Chapter 208
Vanessa
"Bingo." Emma's grin widened. "Have you been following the news? Wesley Lawson just got his trust fund unlocked. Five hundred million dollars. Plus the additional assets Lance gave him—properties, stocks, that extra five percent stake in Lawson Capital. We're talking close to six hundred million total."
The numbers hit me like ice water, shocking me into a clarity I hadn't felt in days. Six hundred million. Wesley. The same Wesley I'd spent three years treating like a convenient ATM with a pulse.
"Fuck," I whispered. "You're talking about that Wesley? My Wesley?"
Linda laughed, the sound sharp and mean. "Your Wesley? Honey, you dumped him, remember? Or wait—didn't he dump you?"
The memory surfaced, hazy and unpleasant. Wesley's voice on the phone—colder than I'd ever heard it—telling me he was done. That he was "moving on." I'd been so furious, so convinced it was just another one of his pathetic attempts to get my attention, that I'd barely registered the finality in his tone.
"He was having a tantrum," I said dismissively, waving my hand. "He always came crawling back. He worshipped me."
"Worshipped," Emma corrected, her emphasis on the past tense deliberate. "But that was before he had more money than God. Now he's the one with options."
I grabbed my glass and drained it, welcoming the burn. My mind was racing now, calculating. Wesley had been so easy to manipulate before—desperate for approval, pathetically grateful for any scrap of attention I threw his way. Surely that hadn't changed. Money didn't erase three years of conditioning.
"He's probably sitting in some penthouse right now," I said slowly, "wondering how to spend all that cash. Wondering if he should call me."
Linda snorted. "Oh, he's definitely thinking about you. The question is whether he's thinking 'I miss her' or 'good riddance.'"
"Please." I straightened in my seat, feeling my confidence return like a familiar coat. "I know Wesley. He's weak. He needs someone to tell him what to do, what to think. And now that he's finally worth something, now that he's not just Lance's disappointing nephew..." I trailed off, a smile tugging at my lips. "He'll come back. He'll beg to come back."
Emma and Linda exchanged another look, but this time it was tinged with something like anticipation. They wanted to see this. Wanted to watch me either reclaim my throne or fall even further.
Fine. Let them watch.
I picked up my phone, my fingers steady now despite the vodka singing through my veins. Wesley's contact was still there, buried under months of ignored calls and deleted messages. I pulled it up, staring at his name.
"What are you doing?" Linda asked, leaning forward.
"What I should have done days ago." I hit the call button before I could second-guess myself.
Emma's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "Wait! Put it on speaker. We want to hear this."
I rolled my eyes but complied, setting the phone down on the table between us. The three of us leaned in like witches over a cauldron as the line rang once, twice—
"Hello?"
Wesley's voice came through the speaker, and something in my chest twisted uncomfortably. He sounded... different. Colder. More distant. Not the eager, slightly desperate tone I was used to.
I plastered on my most charming smile, even though he couldn't see it. "Wesley! I heard you came into some money. Congratulations."
Silence stretched for three long seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat, almost bored. "You saw the news. Yeah, I've got money now. So what?"
My smile faltered. "So what? Wesley, I'm saying we can—we can fix things now. You're not... I mean, you're successful now. You've proven yourself. We can get back together."
Linda gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. Emma was grinning like a shark.
"Get back together." Wesley repeated the words slowly, like he was testing them in his mouth. Then he laughed—a short, harsh sound that made my spine stiffen. "Did I not make myself clear last time? I'm done, Vanessa. Done. Finished. Over. Do you need me to say it in fucking French?"
Heat flooded my face. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His voice sharpened, impatient now. "I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing. Find someone else to manipulate."
"Manipulate?" I was on my feet without realizing it, my voice climbing. "Wesley, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not remember who I am? I'm Vanessa Holland! I made you! Without me, you were just Lance's pathetic shadow!"
"Were," he shot back, his voice rising to match mine. "Past tense. And newsflash, sweetheart—you're not Vanessa Holland anymore. You're Vanessa Nobody, the girl who got kicked out of her own family for being too stupid to keep her mouth shut."
The words hit like a slap. Emma and Linda's expressions shifted from entertained to uncomfortable.
"How dare you—"
"How dare I?" Wesley's laugh was ugly now, vicious. "How dare you call me up after months of silence, after dumping me like trash, and expect me to just... what? Fall at your feet because you finally decided I'm worth your time? Fuck that. Fuck you."
My hands were shaking. "Wesley, listen to me—"
"No, you listen." His voice dropped, becoming something cold and terrible. "For three years, I worshipped you. I would have done anything for you. And you treated me like a fucking ATM with a convenient last name. You used me, humiliated me, and tossed me aside the second you thought you found something better. Well, guess what? I finally woke up. And now you're the one who needs me, and I've got to say—it feels fucking amazing to tell you no."
"Wesley—" My voice cracked. I hated how desperate I sounded. "Wesley, please, just—"
"Oh, and Vanessa?" He paused, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I heard you got kicked out of the Holland family. Lost your trust fund, your connections, everything. How does it feel to be worthless? To finally understand what it's like to have nothing?"
Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back furiously. "You son of a bitch—"
"I'm blocking your number now," he continued conversationally. "Don't call again. Don't text. Don't send carrier pigeons. We're done. We've been done. And honestly? I should have ended this years ago. Thanks for finally giving me a reason to grow a spine."
"Wesley! Wesley, don't you dare—"
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The silence in our little corner booth was deafening, broken only by the distant thrum of bass from the dance floor.
Slowly, I looked up at Linda and Emma.
The pity was gone from their faces now. In its place was something worse—contempt.
"Well," Emma said lightly, reaching for her purse. "That went about as well as I expected."
"What?" I couldn't seem to make my brain work properly. "What are you—"
"Oh, come on, Vanessa." Linda stood, smoothing down her dress. "Did you really think we came here tonight because we're your friends? We came to see if you still had any value. Any connections we could use. But you don't, do you? You're completely worthless now."
Emma stood as well, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. "Wesley was your last shot at relevance, and you fucked it up spectacularly. Honestly, I'm almost impressed. It takes talent to burn bridges that thoroughly."
"You—" I couldn't get the words out. My throat had closed up, my chest tight with something that felt horribly like panic. "You can't just—"
"Can't what? Leave?" Emma's laugh was bright and cruel. "Watch us, sweetie. And by the way—you're paying for the drinks tonight. All of them. Consider it payment for the entertainment."
Linda was already walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. Emma followed, pausing only to look back over her shoulder.
"Good luck, Vanessa," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm sure you'll land on your feet. Eventually."