Chapter 210
Felix
Because I'd just realized something: I did have a choice. And it involved the desperate, vengeful woman currently making a scene at the bar.
I stood, smoothing down my jacket and arranging my features into the charming, effortless smile that had served me so well over the years. The smile that said I'm here to help while hiding the calculation underneath. One last time, I told myself. One last shot at making Lance feel even a fraction of what he'd put me through.
I crossed the room in long, confident strides. The manager looked up as I approached, his expression shifting from contempt to recognition to something approaching relief.
"Mr. Lawson!" he said, a bit too loudly. "I had no idea you were here this evening!"
Vanessa's head snapped up at the name. For a split second, our eyes met, and I saw it all—the shame, the humiliation, the desperate wish that I hadn't witnessed her like this. She straightened her spine, trying to salvage some dignity, but it was too late. I'd already seen her at rock bottom.
Perfect.
"I'm fairly certain there's been some kind of misunderstanding here," I said smoothly, giving the manager my most disarming smile. "Surely you recognize Miss Holland? Daughter of one of the most prominent families in New York?" I let a note of disapproval creep into my voice. "Unless you're deliberately choosing to hassle a young woman simply because she's dining alone and you think no one will call you on it?"
The manager's smile faltered. "Mr. Lawson, I'm not sure if you've heard the recent news, but Miss Holland is no longer—"
"No longer what, exactly?" I cut him off, allowing an edge to sharpen my tone. "No longer entitled to basic human decency? No longer worth treating with the bare minimum of respect?" I paused, letting the words land. "The woman's had a falling out with her family. That hardly transforms her into some kind of—what was the phrase you used?—useless woman who can't even keep herself afloat."
I watched Vanessa flinch at those words, her face going pale. The phrase had clearly struck a nerve—probably because it was exactly what she'd been screaming at herself in the mirror every morning, exactly what she feared the entire city was whispering behind her back. I filed that reaction away for later use.
The manager's face drained of color. "Mr. Lawson, I certainly didn't mean to imply—"
"Miss Holland is experiencing a temporary setback," I continued, my voice taking on the kind of authority I'd learned from watching Lance dominate rooms full of men twice his age. "She'll land back on her feet soon enough. And when she does, I imagine she'll have a crystal-clear memory of exactly how certain establishments chose to treat her in her moment of difficulty." I smiled, but there was nothing warm in it. "So let's not say anything we might regret later, shall we? Put her tab on my account."
"Of course, Mr. Lawson. Right away, sir." He practically stumbled over his own feet backing away from us.
Once he'd scurried off, I turned my full attention to Vanessa. She was staring at the ground, shoulders hunched inward, trying to make herself disappear into the floorboards. When she finally managed to speak, her voice came out small and strangled.
"Thank you for that," she mumbled, still not meeting my eyes. "I just—I forgot to bring my wallet tonight. I have money, obviously. This whole thing was just a stupid mistake."
The lie was so transparent it was almost painful to witness. But what really caught my attention wasn't the lie itself—it was how utterly different she sounded. Gone was the imperious drawl, the casual arrogance of someone who'd never once questioned their right to take up space in the world. This Vanessa was diminished, beaten down, desperately trying to avoid my gaze like a dog that had been kicked too many times.
I knew that look. I'd been seeing it in my own mirror lately.
But there was something else lurking beneath all that shame and humiliation. A flicker of something dark and volatile in her eyes when she thought I wasn't paying attention. A spark of the old Vanessa—the one who'd been ruthless enough to claw her way to the apex of New York's vicious social pyramid, who'd schemed and manipulated and crushed anyone foolish enough to stand in her path.
That was what I needed. That spark of beautiful, desperate madness. I just had to fan it into flame.
She turned to leave, clearly wanting nothing more than to flee this mortifying encounter as fast as her legs could carry her. I reached out and caught her wrist—gently, but firmly enough to freeze her in place.
"Vanessa," I said softly. "You're really just going to walk away? That's it?"
She stopped, her back still turned to me. "Felix... was there something else you needed?"