I Married the President

’What kind of twisted logic was that?’

Claire Sinclair felt it was impossible to reason with someone like her, so she gave a calm smile. "Professor Taylor, aren’t you afraid I just recorded everything you said?"

Cecily Taylor looked completely unfazed. "So what if you have a recording? What can you do to me? I have a top-tier PR team. As long as I flatly deny everything, no one will believe you. When that happens, the one who’ll be utterly disgraced isn’t me—it’s you."

"So, you’re just here to give me a heads-up that you’re planning to get back at me?"

"That’s right. You have two more months, so you’d better watch your back. The world is a dangerous place; your righteousness alone won’t be enough to save you. Hmph... just you wait and see."

With that, Cecily Taylor turned and left.

Claire Sinclair rolled her eyes, turned off the recording app on her phone, and washed her hands before returning to the private dining room.

The waiter had just finished serving the food. Seeing her return, the others began to eat.

Claire Sinclair was starving, so she didn’t give it much thought and picked up her chopsticks to dig in.

Not being one for schmoozing, she kept her head down and focused on eating and drinking.

When the meal finally ended, Claire Sinclair said her goodbyes to the rest of the production team and got ready to head back to her hotel.

The moment she stood up, a wave of dizziness hit her, and a strange heat washed through her body.

Claire Sinclair shook her head, trying to clear it, but that only made the dizziness worse. She could barely keep her balance and had to grip the table for support.

Cecily Taylor approached with a look of feigned concern. "Professor Sinclair, you don’t look well. Is something wrong?"

"I’m fine," Claire Sinclair answered through gritted teeth, a dreadful suspicion starting to form in her mind.

’Something is definitely wrong!’

’No, everyone ate the same food... It must have been my glass!’

’But that’s strange. My glass was empty when I got back from the restroom. The drink was poured from the same large bottle as everyone else’s, and they drank it too. So why am I the only one having a reaction?’

’Could it be... the glass itself?’

Claire Sinclair desperately wanted to sort it out, but her head was spinning so violently that she could barely think straight.

Cecily Taylor reached out to steady her, her expression a mask of panic. "I’ll take you back to your hotel!"

"You don’t..." Claire Sinclair tried to say more, but she suddenly passed out.

Cecily Taylor immediately shot a look at her assistant, who came over to help her lead Claire Sinclair away.

Seeing this, Mimi Fisher and Master simply told Cecily Taylor to take good care of Claire Sinclair. After all, it was a group of women, so they felt at ease leaving Claire in their hands.

As Cecily Taylor and her assistant were helping Claire out of the restaurant and toward a car, a tall, imposing figure blocked their path.

Landon Winston glanced at the unconscious Claire Sinclair, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where are you taking her?" he asked, his face devoid of expression.

For some reason, the man’s righteous air made Cecily Taylor feel a pang of guilt. However, her composure was exceptional. She put on a convincing act of concern. "Professor Sinclair had too much to drink. I’m just taking her back to her hotel."

Landon Winston strode forward. "Leave her with me," he said in a low voice.

Cecily Taylor was not pleased. "And who are you?"

Landon Winston’s expression didn’t change. "Quincy Manor. Bodyguard."

"What..." Cecily Taylor was completely stunned.

’Claire Sinclair has a bodyguard from Quincy Manor with her?’

’Impossible. He must be bluffing!’

Mustering some courage from who-knows-where, Cecily Taylor retorted, "How do I know you’re not an impostor? Do you have any proof that you’re a bodyguard from Quincy Manor?"