Billionaire's Regret: Losing Me And Our Son - Chapter 257: Chapter 257

I was shocked to see Skylar here. At the same time, York recognized her, too. "Isn't that Skylar?" he said.
"Drag her out!" the man barked. Instantly, the two henchmen at his side stood up, moving to seize Skylar by the arms.
"Let me go! What are you doing?" Skylar cried out in alarm.
Her entire body writhed in resistance, her face a mask of sheer terror.
The man sneered at her. It wasn't hard to imagine the terrible fate that awaited Skylar if they dragged her away.
The restaurant was packed with diners, yet not a single soul dared to help her.
Suddenly, a wave of unease washed over me.
York noticed. He raised an eyebrow and whispered, "Wanna help her out?"
I looked up and met his gaze. After a brief hesitation, I said coolly, "Don't you find these people disgusting? They ruined the ambience."
I just couldn't stand by and watch Skylar be humiliated like this. But I knew I couldn't stop it alone.
But York was different—he was just as formidable as Quinn.
"Disgusting indeed," York chuckled.
With that, he rose, strode over, and stepped between Skylar and the henchmen without hesitation.
"Who the hell are you? Get lost!" one of them barked, clearly unaware of who he was dealing with.
Skylar recognized York in that instant. She mustered all her strength to break free, rushed to his side, and dropped to her knees. "Mr. Smith, please save me!"
York didn't even spare them a glance. Instead, he smiled at the trembling waitress and said, "Go get Lucas to handle this."
"Huh?" The waitress took a second to react. "You mean Mr. Sterling?"
She was sharp. After hearing Skylar address him as "Mr. Smith," she knew that York must be someone important. Nodding, she replied, "Right away, Mr. Smith!" Then she hurried off.
On the other side, York completely ignored the two henchmen, making them fume with rage. Just as they were about to charge forward and start a fight, their boss stopped them.
"Mr. Smith, mind if we get to know each other?" The man narrowed his eyes, sizing up York with a guarded expression.
Clearly a seasoned player, he wasn't as reckless as his men and wanted to sound out York's background before making a move.
"You? Not a chance," York sneered. "Take your men and leave now, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened."
He swept the room with a hard glare, caught between two fears—risking a clash with someone dangerous, or swallowing his pride in front of a dozen watching eyes.
One of his men walked up and muttered, "Boss, never heard of any Smiths in the underworld! This punk's just a kid trying to bluff his way through!"
I was sitting at the nearest table and overheard every word.
Knowing York had the power to handle it, I wasn't the least bit worried. I just watched the drama unfold.
Those words seemed to embolden the man. His brows drew tighter together as he flashed a meaningful glance at his two henchmen.
Just then, I noticed the two men stealthily reaching inside their jackets, going for their weapons.
I bit back a cry. Even with all his skills, York would have a hard time taking on a bunch of armed thugs bare-handed.
"They've got weapons! York, watch out!" I shouted in alarm.
My warning startled the rest of the diners. Some let out panicked screams and bolted for the exit.
Knowing their plan had failed, the two henchmen exchanged a glance. With a roar, they brandished their daggers and lunged at York.
My breath caught as I worried for York, a cold sweat breaking out on my palms.
Almost instantly, York spun around and grabbed a bottle from the table.
The bottle smashed into their boss's head with a crack. He howled in pain as blood gushed from his forehead. His lips trembled. Before he could utter a single word, the jagged neck of the broken bottle was already pressed against his throat.
The two henchmen stood petrified, not daring to move a muscle.
"Still curious about me?" York sneered, pressing the broken bottle harder against the man's throat.
"Who the hell are you?" the man gasped, his eyes wide with terror and his voice trembling.
A clear voice called out, "Mr. Smith, what an honor! If only you'd given me a heads-up, I would've cleared the place for you!"
The next moment, a blond man—Lucas—showed up with a relaxed grin, flanked by a team of black-clad bodyguards.
With a casual wave, Lucas's bodyguards stepped forward and swiftly escorted the man and his lackeys away.
In just sixty seconds, the chaos was gone. The soothing music resumed in the restaurant.
"Thanks for handling the mess, Mr. Sterling," York said coolly.
"Just some small fry, no trouble at all," Lucas said with a slight smile. His gaze swept over Skylar before finally settling on me. "Ms. Hinton, nice to meet you. I'm Lucas, the owner of this music-themed restaurant."
"Hello," I said with a smile as I shook his hand.
Noticing that Lucas probably had more to discuss with York, I took Skylar and excused ourselves first.
Outside the restaurant, Skylar was still shaken.
"Are you alright?" I asked with concern.
She shuddered, her face deathly pale. After a moment, Skylar blinked and found her voice. "I'm... I'm okay now... Thanks for saving me."
"It was York who saved you, not me."
Skylar blurted out, "Don't take me for a fool! I know Mr. Smith would never have stepped in if you hadn't spoken up."
I hadn't known her long, but ever since she came back to the Hinton family, we'd been sworn enemies—lifelong and irreconcilable.
There were countless nights when my hatred for her kept me wide awake.
Even now, I still couldn't let go of my bitterness toward the Hinton family.
I only saved her to fulfill the last promise I made to Jenna.
After a brief pause, not wanting to dwell on this further, I changed the subject. "What brings you to selling drinks here?"
She bit her lip, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. "My dad's gone. We've spent every last penny. I just want to give him a proper burial, and maybe he'll be with Jenna again."
Elijah had passed away, and with no money for his burial, Skylar was forced to take on several odd jobs just to scrape together enough to lay him to rest. Working as a bartender was just one of them.
To think the once-proud Skylar had fallen so low—even I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for her.
"Anyway, thank you. I know you don't want to hear about the Hinton family, so I won't bother you anymore." Seeing my expressionless face, Skylar forced a smile and turned to leave.