Lena had raised her purse over her head, ready to block Nathan’s hit.
Her heart was still pounding from the sudden lunge. She waited for the hit.
But nothing came.
Instead, the restaurant went weirdly quiet… then the quiet turned into murmurs.
Lena slowly lowered her bag.
Then she noticed Nathan’s wrist was locked in someone’s grip—so tight Nathan’s hand was twisted slightly to the side. Nathan looked like he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even move properly.
Lena’s eyes narrowed.
Whoever was holding Nathan like that wasn’t a random person. Because even if Nathan had been disowned, most people didn’t know. The public still believed he was a “Sinclair prince.”
Stopping him like this was basically saying: I’m not scared of the Sinclair family.
Lena followed the length of the arm
