Chapter 45 She changed
Chase's POV:
The way Veronica was behaving looked like a completely different person. A total stranger I didn't know before.
She was never this type. Never the one to talk back to me, never the one to challenge authority or stand her ground.
Certainly never the one who would look her father's disapproval in the face and say she didn't care anymore.
The Veronica I knew—the Veronica I'd spent over a year molding and controlling—would have crumbled at my threats.
She would have begged, pleaded, promised anything to avoid disappointing her father.
This version of her? Cold... promising to destroy me with a smile on her face? This was someone else entirely.
She changed!
I watched her walk away with that tattooed bastard's hand on her back, and something twisted in my gut.
Anger, yes. Wounded pride, absolutely. But also something else I didn't want to examine too closely... something that felt uncomfortably like loss.
What the hell did those billionaire brothers even do to her?
They'd transformed my timid, people-pleasing Veronica—into this fire-breathing woman who'd just threatened me at my own engagement party.
I couldn't stand it anymore.
The realization hit me like cold water: my plan had failed... I'd orchestrated this entire engagement specifically to force Veronica back into my orbit, to make her so desperate and cornered that she'd have no choice but to come crawling back.
The startup sabotage, the media manipulation, the engagement announcement—all of it was supposed to break her down until she surrendered.
Instead, she'd declared war.
And now that my plan of blackmailing Veronica had failed so utterly, this engagement no longer served me, did it?
Laura was sweet enough, naive enough, but she was just a means to an end. A pawn in a larger game. Without Veronica playing along, without her jealousy and desperation feeding my ego, what was the point?
I should stop this right away.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Laura came running toward me through the crowd, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
She was wearing an expensive designer gown—Valentino or Versace, I can't remember which—dripping with jewelry that probably cost more than most people's houses.
Her face was flushed with excitement, eyes bright with anticipation.
"Hey, darling!" she gushed, reaching for my hand. "You look incredible. The photographer and media are on their way—they should be here in about fifteen minutes. We're going to rock this! This is going to be the engagement announcement of the year!"
She was just too annoying to even look at.
Everything about her suddenly irritated me—her breathless enthusiasm, the naive excitement, the way she looked at me like I was some kind of prize she'd won.
She believed every lie I'd fed her. Every carefully constructed story about heartbreak and finding true love. All the manipulation I did to make her feel special, chosen, necessary.
She was just too needy and desperate...
"It's over," I said flatly, cutting through her rambling.
She blinked, her smile faltering. "What?"
"I'm calling this off."
"Calling what off?" Her hand tightening on mine. "Do you mean the caterers? Because I can call them right now if there's an issue. Or is it the photographer? The lighting? Just tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it—"
God, there it was again.
That eager-to-please, problem-solving tone that reminded me uncomfortably of how Veronica used to sound. Like a puppy desperate for approval, willing to do anything to make me happy.
It made my skin crawl.
"Not that," I interrupted, pulling my hand away from hers. "The engagement. I'm calling off the engagement."
She went completely blank, all the color draining from her cheeks. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again like she was trying to form words but couldn't quite manage it.
For a moment, I thought she was going to collapse right there on the floor.
I braced myself for the drama.
The tears, the shouting, the scene that would draw everyone's attention and make this even messier than it already was.
Laura had a history of emotional breakdowns—and I really didn't have the patience to deal with a sobbing, hysterical, needy woman right now.
But instead, she just stood there, stunned and silent.
Then, quietly, barely beyond a whisper, she asked, "It's the girl, isn't it? Veronica. She's the reason?"
I didn't reply. It was none of her business why I was ending this, and explaining myself would only prolong an already uncomfortable conversation.
Better to just let her draw her own conclusions and move on. If this was texting, I would have already blocked her by now.
Laura stared at me for another long moment, her eyes searching my face for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe even a sign that this was all some kind of joke.
When she found nothing, her expression hardened slightly.
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
No tears. No shouting. No scene. Just a quiet exit.
I watched her disappear into the crowd, her shoulders straight despite the devastation I knew she must be feeling.
Part of me—a very small part—wondered if I'd just made a mistake. Laura came from money, from connections, from a family that could have been useful to my business interests. Walking away from that alliance had consequences.
But then I caught sight of Veronica across the room, her emerald dress catching the light, Max still hovering near her like a goddamn bodyguard, and I knew I'd made the right call. As Veronica was even more rich than Laura... her father was dumb enough to believe me. She was the perfect choice for me.
This wasn't over between us. Not by a long shot.
I was about to make my way toward them, to remind Veronica that she couldn't just waltz into my party and threaten me without consequences, when I heard it.
The sharp, clear sound of glass being tapped with metal.
Ting, ting, ting.
The conversations around the room began to fade as people turned toward the source of the sound. My eyes followed theirs, and my stomach dropped.
Veronica stood on the small stage at the front of the ballroom, a microphone in one hand and a champagne glass in the other. The stage lighting caught her perfectly, making her dress shimmer, making her look like some kind of avenging angel.
"Excuse me, everyone," she said, her voice amplified through the speakers, carrying to every corner of the room. "I'd like to make a toast."
Oh, fuck.
"Listen, everyone," she continued, turning her attention directly to where I stood frozen in the middle of the crowd. "I'm going to make a toast to my ex-fiancé, my childhood friend, Chase Pemberton."
Every eye in the room turned toward me. I felt the weight of hundreds of gazes, curious and expectant, waiting to see what would happen next.
Veronica smiled, and it was the most dangerous smile I'd ever seen on her face.