# Chapter 60: A Barroom Meltdown
Hello, dear readers! How are you all doing today? I trust life is treating you wonderfully. I'm absolutely delighted to guide you through another gripping installment of "The Untouchable Ex Wife." Today, we witness a scene so bold, so audacious, that it transforms an ordinary evening at a high-end bar into a theatrical spectacle worthy of the silver screen. So grab your favorite drink, settle into your coziest chair, and let's dive headfirst into this whirlwind of tears, accusations, and delicious chaos!
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The tension in that exclusive VIP area was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. Renee stood before Stefan Hunt—the titan of industry, the undisputed god of Beach City—and glared at him with a fire in her eyes that could rival the sun itself. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight, ready for battle. Even Stefan's bodyguards, those stoic monoliths of discipline who had seen everything and feared nothing, found themselves holding their breath, their hands twitching at their sides, prepared to spring into action at the very first sign of violence.
The standoff stretched on. Five seconds. Ten seconds. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant thrum of music and the murmur of conversations from the oblivious patrons beyond the velvet ropes.
And then... something shifted.
Renee's fierce glare began to soften, her rigid posture crumbling like a sandcastle against an incoming tide. Her lips trembled, and her eyes—those defiant, unyielding eyes—began to glisten with unshed tears.
"If you don't... I-I'll cry!" she stammered, her voice cracking with theatrical desperation.
And then the floodgates opened.
"Boo-hoo..." The wail that escaped her lips was nothing short of operatic. "Please, Stefan Hunt... CEO of H Group and the god of Beach City... Please, give him back to me..."
Tears streamed down her cheeks in rivulets as she sobbed with such ferocious intensity that the very walls of the bar seemed to tremble in sympathy. Heads turned throughout the establishment. Conversations died mid-sentence. Drinks hovered frozen halfway to lips. Everyone in that bar was suddenly captivated by the unfolding drama from the VIP section, their curiosity piqued by the pitiful wailing of a woman who sounded utterly devastated.
Stefan stood there, utterly mystified, his normally razor-sharp mind grinding to a halt. This woman—this impossible, unpredictable woman—never seemed to behave like any normal human being he had ever encountered. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she would do something so completely off-the-wall that it left him reeling. And this? This public meltdown? He was completely, utterly caught off guard!
If the situation weren't so maddening, Stefan might have been impressed. Renee had clearly elevated crying to an art form. Her tears flowed with practiced ease, accompanied by a symphony of sniffles and sobs that seemed to resonate with genuine heartbreak. Her eyes and nose had turned a blotchy red, and tears mingled freely with—dare we say it—a considerable amount of nasal discharge. She looked so utterly pathetic, so thoroughly miserable, that she could have given professional actresses a serious run for their money in any melodrama.
"No... Please..." she continued between shuddering sobs, her voice carrying to every corner of the now-silent bar. "If you're upset with someone, go mess with them... Please don't involve innocents... Boo-hoo..."
She paused to take a ragged breath, wiping futilely at the cascade of tears streaming down her cheeks.
"If you hate me, you can hit me, you can curse me or even kill me if it satisfies you... It doesn't matter how you torment me or punish me... I won't complain at all as long as you're satisfied..."
Then came the pièce de résistance. With a dramatic gasp, she grabbed Stefan's hand—his strong, capable, utterly bewildered hand—and aimed it directly at her own face.
"Here," she choked out, her voice breaking with emotion. "You can hit me! Just do whatever you want, don't hold back... or you'll get stressed!"
Stefan's jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The vein in his temple throbbed with barely contained fury. But before he could even formulate a response, the chaos escalated to an entirely new level.
Leia—emboldened by liquid courage, fueled by righteous indignation, and utterly devoid of any filter whatsoever—threw herself into the fray with the reckless abandon of a woman who had absolutely nothing to lose.
"Oh, you're such a scumbag!" she declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Stefan with theatrical flair. "Where's your conscience?! Just because you have money, you resort to vile crimes like abduction and blackmail?"
She paused for dramatic effect, scanning the growing crowd of onlookers who had gravitated toward the commotion.
"Renee's just a student, but she's already had children with you, and you refuse to acknowledge her because of your post-nut clarity?! Aren't you afraid of karma?!"
A collective gasp rippled through the bar. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Phones were discreetly raised, capturing the scene unfolding before them.
"Are you serious?" someone in the crowd muttered, their voice thick with disbelief.
"He's such a piece of crap..." another voice joined in, dripping with contempt. "Bullying women, really?!"
"Poor girl... She's crying so miserably..." a sympathetic woman added, her hand pressed to her chest. "Who's going to help her?!"
Then, inevitably, the tides of public opinion turned fully against Stefan. Whispers grew into murmurs, and murmurs into indignant declarations.
"To think I used to worship Stefan..." a formerly adoring fan lamented. "But that's a wolf in sheep's clothing for you. Let's call the cops, or there'll definitely be trouble!"
Stefan remained silent, but his silence was far from passive. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening with the effort it took to restrain himself. Every muscle in his body screamed for release—to grab these two lunatic women by their collars, to shake some sense into them, to make them stop this circus. But he knew better. He knew that any physical reaction would only validate their ridiculous accusations. So he stood there, a volcano barely contained, seething with a fury so intense he could practically feel steam rising from his collar.
Meanwhile, Renee continued her Oscar-worthy performance, seemingly undeterred by Stefan's murderous glare.
"Boo-hoo... Please, Mr. Hunt, please spare us... Please give him back to us..." she wailed, her voice cracking with manufactured desperation. "We won't ever upset you anymore... We will hide our faces forever..."
Leia, never one to be outdone, jumped in with renewed vigor. "Yeah, you better give him back or we're calling the cops! Threatening a student to have sexual liaisons with you and even making her pregnant?! Let's see how you'd explain that to the po-po!"
At that moment, something inside Stefan snapped. His composure, his carefully maintained veneer of civilization, cracked down the middle.
"You must want to die, both of you!" he bellowed, his voice thundering through the bar like a clap of thunder.
It was the worst possible reaction.
"Argh! Help! He's threatening to kill us!" Leia screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice piercing through the crowd's murmurs with crystalline clarity. "Everyone, look—the CEO of H Group was exposed for blackmailing and is now threatening us with violence!"
Gasps echoed through the bar. People backed away, creating a cautious ring around the unfolding drama, yet no one dared to leave—the entertainment was far too compelling.
Renee, for her part, had become slightly unnerved by the escalating situation. She wasn't nearly as bold as her vivacious friend. But Leia had no such misgivings whatsoever. She stood there with her hands on her hips, a warrior in high heels, determined to destroy every ounce of dignity Stefan possessed until nothing remained but ashes.
Nearby, seated in a shadowy corner of the bar, Xavier had been nursing his drink in blissful ignorance of the developing spectacle. He was a little drunk, his thoughts pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. But when he heard that unmistakable voice—that defiant, dramatic, utterly unforgettable voice—raised in accusation, sobriety crashed into him like a bucket of ice water.
His eyes snapped into focus, his head whipping toward the commotion.
And there she was.
Leia Osborne.
The woman currently threatening the most powerful man in Beach City with a citizen's arrest.
Xavier blinked, trying to process the scene before him. Was this really happening? Was the woman he knew—the one who had turned his world upside down—really out there, picking a fight with Stefan Hunt, of all people?
Oh, this was going to be interesting.
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
What an absolute rollercoaster of a chapter! The sheer audacity of Renee and Leia's plan is matched only by the comedic brilliance of their execution. Watching Stefan Hunt—the untouchable god of Beach City—completely flummoxed by two determined women armed with nothing but theatrical tears and shameless slander was deeply satisfying. The public humiliation angle is brilliantly executed, and the image of Stefan's bodyguards frozen in bewilderment adds the perfect touch of comedy to the tension. Leia's unhinged courage provides the perfect contrast to Renee's calculated vulnerability, making them an absolutely formidable duo.
**Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.7 out of 5 Stars**
## Next Chapter Prediction
Now that Xavier has spotted Leia in the middle of this chaos, the dynamics are about to shift dramatically! With Xavier's presence adding another layer of complication, Stefan will likely try to manipulate the situation to his advantage—perhaps using Xavier's connection to Leia to expose the scheme. But will Leia's reckless courage actually succeed in pressuring Stefan to release Xavier's friend? Or will this public spectacle backfire spectacularly, putting both women in more danger than they ever anticipated? One thing is certain: with Xavier now sober and fully aware of what's unfolding, the next chapter promises explosive confrontations and possibly unexpected alliances that no one saw coming!
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