Chapter 406: Clara Whitmore Glared at the Retreating Figure

Clara Whitmore glared at the retreating figure, grinding her teeth in frustration.

Connor Hayes strode forward without looking back, as if he had eyes on the back of his head. He even casually waved his hand.

Clara stomped her foot in anger.

Deep in the alley, Grant Holloway had been standing motionless for a full hour.

The red roses in his arms tumbled to the ground.

In the next second, he bolted toward the alley entrance.

"Connor Hayes—"

The man about to enter his car paused mid-motion.

A fist came at him with a sharp whistle of wind.

Connor sidestepped, but the blow still grazed his cheekbone.

When Grant swung again, Connor seized his collar and nearly threw him to the pavement.

The two quickly separated.

Connor touched his stinging cheekbone. "Grant Holloway, have you lost your mind?"

"You're exactly who I want to hit!"

Suddenly, Connor laughed. He glanced in the direction Grant had come from and understood.

"Saw everything, did you?" His grin widened mockingly.

Grant's eyes burned red, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"Can't handle it? There'll be plenty more scenes like this." Connor taunted, "Planning to throw punches every time?"

"Too bad beating me won't change a damn thing."

Grant's chest heaved violently, his gaze sharp as a blade.

Then, abruptly, he stilled. "Did Clara Whitmore agree to be with you?"

Connor's smile froze.

Grant smirked coldly. "Guess not. Couldn't win her back then—what makes you think you can now?"

"At least I had her once." Connor shot back. "You? Too scared to even touch her."

"Someone else's castoffs must really tempt you. Can't afford anything new? Or do you just enjoy digging through trash?"

Connor yanked him by the collar. "Say that again."

"Did I lie?"

"Say whatever you want about me." Connor's voice turned icy. "But don't you dare insult her—the woman who loved you for six years!"

Grant let himself be grabbed, a cold smile curling his lips. "Admit it. You're jealous I had her for those six years."

"Jealous?" Connor scoffed. "Jealous of a failure who couldn't keep her?"

"I just pity her for ever loving garbage like you!"

The punch landed on Grant's nose before the words finished.

"That one's for Clara Whitmore."

The second blow struck his cheekbone.

"And this one's payback."

"Connor Hayes!" Grant roared, launching himself forward.

In the dim alley, two men in tailored suits became a tangled mess of fists.

Mason Reed arrived and gasped. "I knew this would happen!"

Julian Cross watched in horror. "They're trying to kill each other!"

They rushed to intervene.

Mason locked his arms around Grant. "Grant, calm down! Fighting won't solve anything!"

Connor sneered. "Don't need solutions. Just taking out the trash."

"Who the hell are you calling trash?!"

"Whoever fits the description!"

As the brawl threatened to reignite, Julian suddenly shouted, "Clara Whitmore's here!"

Both men froze instantly.