Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon novel Chapter 389

“Sorry, but the terms of our membership cards are entirely at our discretion. We’re simply reclaiming Mr. Lloyd’s card—nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What? You have to give me a reason!”

Suzan was already fuming from not being able to buy anything, and now she felt her chest about to burst with anger.

“A reason? Do you really want one?” The clerk glanced at Suzan, then shifted her gaze toward Mitchell.

Suzan nodded, jaw clenched. “Of course I do.”

The clerk smirked. “Let’s put it this way—Mrs. McKenzie doesn’t care for people who can’t make up their minds. Especially the type who flits from one lover to the next, leaving a trail of broken hearts.”

She paused, the corner of her mouth curling as she looked Suzan up and down. “Does that explanation satisfy you two?”

She didn’t spell it out, but her meaning was clear enough. Whether it was Mitchell or anyone else nearby, everyone could read between the lines.

Murmurs rippled through the onlookers—rumors swirling that Mitchell had cheated, and Suzan was the other woman.

A strange sensation crawled over Suzan, as if someone was watching her from the shadows. She spun around, quick and sharp, and caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes peering through a crack in the partition wall.

In two strides, Suzan crossed the room, charging straight for the divider.

Some of the staff tried halfheartedly to stop her, but given her obvious pregnancy, no one dared lay a hand on her. To everyone’s surprise, she managed to slip past them and dart behind the partition.

“Effie! You little—”

But the words died on her lips. Instead of Effie, there was only a frail, elegant older lady with icy eyes. No one else.

Suzan’s gaze flicked desperately past Mrs. McKenzie, scanning the garden beyond.

Nothing. Was she imagining things?

Mitchell froze at the sound of Effie’s name.

He drew a slow, tense breath. “You promised you wouldn’t mention Effie in front of me again.”

“Let’s just go.”

Suzan left empty-handed and humiliated, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

On the drive home, she couldn’t help venting to Mitchell: “It has to be that witch Effie—she must’ve told them something. How else would they know all that?”

She kept rambling, but Mitchell seemed lost in thought, barely listening.

His mind wandered back to his last visit, when he’d breezed in to buy a bottle of Zenith Aroma. It had all gone so smoothly—he’d thought it was because they respected his status. Now, he wasn’t so sure.