The umbrella overhead periodically let out a "THUMP—CRACK," but not another vegetable leaf or piece of fruit rind landed on them.
Egg whites streamed down the black umbrella, its surface instantly blooming with splatters.
Ashley Bowen looked up at the umbrella, listening to the rhythmic sounds. For some reason, in that moment, she felt a sense of happiness.
The kind that comes from being sheltered by someone.
The curses and shouts from the crowd became insignificant. Ashley Bowen held tightly to Yuri Sinclair's hand.
Adam Sinclair's car was ahead, but it wasn't as fast as the cars taking shortcuts.
When they arrived, the scene could only be described as a disaster.
Claire Sutton covered her mouth, speechless. The entrance to the grand and stately royal hotel was littered with vegetable leaves and eggshells.
"The public's resentment is no small thing," Claire Sutton sneered. The thought of Ashley Bowen being reviled by all filled her with glee.
