Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 347

Walter Wilson could hear it clear as day—the hint of protection, and the warning woven into Jordan Smith’s words.

But was he scared? Not a chance.

Walter let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. Because if I remember correctly, when the whole thing blew up, The Smith Group was quick to wash its hands of Sandra Taylor. Fired her on the spot to ‘set an example,’ wasn’t it?

And now you’re calling her part of your staff? Mr. Smith—you’re the CEO. You sure you’re not contradicting yourself here?

Or maybe… The Smith Group’s just been playing both sides all along? Don’t tell me you were actually okay with the theft?”

Jordan Smith’s face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes. The air around him seemed to chill. “Walter Wilson, watch your mouth. Accusations like that can come with consequences.”

Walter just grinned, all swagger and no fear. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to be polite. When it comes to corporate theft, I don’t think any company can just brush it off.

And for the record, I’m not slandering anyone—I’m just calling it like I see it. Or is it that you can’t handle the truth, Mr. Smith?”

The crowd around them started to murmur, picking up on the tension.

“Honestly, Walter’s got a point.”

“Yeah, Smith’s story doesn’t add up. He looks like he’s really fond of his little side piece.”

“I’d call it disgusting. He brings his mistress over and parades her around in front of Ms. Davis—clearly trying to get under her skin!”

“Do they think we’re fools? That whole scandal was a mess. In the end, they pinned it all on one person so the real culprit could walk away.”

“And seriously, how would a junior employee have the guts to pull off corporate theft on her own?”

“Exactly. People like that shouldn’t even be at a gala like this. Someone ought to show her the door.”

The whispers grew louder, filling the room.

Sandra Taylor stood frozen, teeth clenched so hard she thought she might crack a molar.

Her carefully laid plans for the evening—ruined, all thanks to Walter Wilson.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Mr. Thompson, the event host, arrived.

He looked around at the crowd, confused. “Is something going on here?”

“Mr. Thompson!” Several guests greeted him, quickly filling him in.

He listened, piecing things together with a glance at Jordan Smith. Out of courtesy, he didn’t ask anyone to leave outright.

Instead, he offered a diplomatic smile. “It’s a wonderful evening. No need to let trivial matters ruin it for everyone. I apologize for being tied up earlier—how about I make it up to you all with a toast?

Mr. Wilson, Ms. Davis, if you don’t mind, could I borrow you for a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss privately.”

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