>Venzrich
"Who the hell leaked the schedule of my flight arrival?" I snapped at my secretary, my voice sharp enough to cut through the cramped silence of the car.
Noel, who was still struggling with his seatbelt, jolted at the sound. He finally managed to click it in place and sat rigidly, like he expected the seat to swallow him whole if he dared move again.
I tugged at my tie, loosening it enough to breathe. The air felt thick—humid, almost—and I crossed my legs, leaning back as irritation prickled under my skin. Outside, muffled shrieks and excited cries rose above the steady thumping against the car doors.
The fans—at least that's what they proudly called themselves—were relentless, like a swarm that had gotten a taste of sugar and refused to leave.
"I'm sorry, Young Master!" Noel blurted, voice trembling just slightly. His gaze darted to the window, then back to me through the side mirror. "It seems your fiancé unknowingly leaked your flight schedule to the media."
