Chapter 162
Chapter 162
"Work stuff?"
Victoria walked over and stopped beside him, half a step apart.
"There's been a new development with that contact."
Edward slipped his phone into his pocket. "That construction materials company proactively proposed a joint venture. I had a middleman relay the response. Legitimate trade partners don't propose a joint venture before the first meeting even happens. Which means—they're desperate."
"Desperate to bail Aiden out?"
"Exactly."
Edward turned to face her. "A joint venture means cross-linked capital and equity. Once an agreement is signed, they can use Aiden to move Creative Haven's assets offshore. The fact that they're dangling this bait so eagerly tells me Aiden can't hold on domestically anymore. They're afraid he'll collapse too fast—before they can move everything out."
Victoria leaned against the railing, thinking it over. "So what's your plan?"
"Let them sweat for a couple of days. If they think we're hesitating, they'll sweeten the deal on their own. The more they offer, the more cracks they expose."
Victoria nodded and didn't press further.
The night breeze slipped between them, stirring the loose strands of hair at her temple.
She tucked them behind her ear—and caught Edward watching her.
His gaze was calm, but in the darkness, it felt impossibly focused.
Her pulse skipped. She looked away.
"By the way."
She said, "That chain of evidence... if the case gets overturned, when could my dad get out?"
"If everything goes smoothly, within two months."
Edward said, "I've already got my lawyers preparing the appeal. The moment the evidence is in place, it all gets filed."
Victoria's fingers tightened around the railing.
She was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Edward, you've done so much for me... I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't have to."
Victoria turned to look at him. His expression was as unreadable as ever.
She remembered once saying, "Nobody's kindness comes without a motive."
But now, standing in front of Edward, she found she couldn't say those words anymore.
She turned her gaze back to the scattered lit car windows below. That wall inside her chest—the one that had been hammered at again and again—finally cracked open.
She didn't tear the crack wider. She just let it sit there, open, and let the wind slowly smooth out whatever was inside.
"Let's go in. It's windy out here."
She turned first and pushed open the glass door.
Edward followed her into the living room.
---
Over the next few days, Victoria threw herself into designing the new collection.
After the contract was signed, the other party quickly sent over the first batch of samples and fabric swatches.
She spent every day holed up in her studio—revising sketches, adjusting color palettes, tweaking measurements—so busy she barely had time to check her phone.
Veda called to tease her about "winning at both love and career." Victoria shut her down with a flat "Oh, please."
But after hanging up, she stared at the neat row of fabric color cards on her desk for a long moment before lowering her head and going back to her sketches.
Winning at both love and career?
If only that were true.
She sighed, pushed the thought away, and ignored the faint warmth creeping up the tips of her ears.
---
Wednesday afternoon, she went to the fabric district and picked out three new textured swatches to bring back.
Passing a narrow alley, she instinctively turned in, wanting to take a shortcut to the subway station.
The alley wasn't deep. Old apartment buildings flanked both sides, half-dead ivy crawling up the walls.
A chill prickled the back of her neck.
Not the wind.
She slowed her pace slightly. Didn't turn around. But her ears sharpened.
Footsteps behind her.
Soft, on the concrete floor of the alley, at a rhythm that didn't match hers.
Whoever it was, they were deliberately controlling their stride, maintaining a fixed distance.
Halfway through the alley, she caught a glimpse of a closed metal door to her side. The dull surface of its handle reflected a blurred silhouette behind her.
Victoria's fingers tightened around the fabric sample bag. Her mind raced.
At this point in time, there was only one person she could think of who'd be following her.
She didn't stop. She kept walking until she was nearly at the end of the alley—then whipped around.
The person behind her clearly hadn't expected it. Their steps faltered. Beneath the brim of a cap, half a face was visible in the dim light—unnaturally pale.
Bianca.
She wore a black hoodie. Something was clutched in her hand, hidden inside her sleeve, knuckles white with tension.
The two women locked eyes across seven or eight paces of the narrow alley. Bianca's expression shifted from shock to something twisted and vicious.
She took a step forward. The object in her sleeve slid halfway out.
A narrow-bladed paring knife.
Victoria's brow furrowed. Alarm jolted through her.
She eased back half a step, every nerve on alert.
Bianca's mental state was clearly unraveling.
Was she actually going to do something this reckless?
"Why do you get to have everything?"
Bianca's voice was low, barely controlled, trembling at the edges. "Your hand healed, you got your reputation back, Edward's still protecting you... Why? Your hand should've stayed ruined. Why did you have to get back up?"
Victoria didn't retreat.
If she showed fear now—
That would be the real end of her.
Her gaze locked on Bianca's knife hand. "Put the knife down now, and I'll pretend I never saw you."
"Don't give me that!"
Bianca lunged another step forward, the blade rising toward Victoria. "You think I'd believe you? Do you have any idea what you did to me last time? Aiden won't even look at me. Nobody in the industry will work with me. My social media is nothing but people tearing me apart... All because of you!"
Her knife hand shook violently, but her steps kept coming faster.
She meant it.
Victoria shifted sideways, her back nearly pressing against the alley wall.
Her eyes swept the surroundings.
The alley entrance—too far. She'd never make it.
A rusted pipe nearby—too thin to bear any weight.
A few broken bricks scattered on the ground—too far to reach.
Bianca closed in. The blade thrust toward her right shoulder.
Victoria twisted sideways. The knife edge grazed her jacket, slicing through the fabric.
In the split second after Bianca's momentum carried her forward, Victoria seized her knife wrist. The two of them grappled, slamming against the wall.
Bianca's back hit the bricks. She grunted but didn't let go—if anything, she pushed harder.
Victoria gritted her teeth and held firm, but her right leg—stitches removed but still not fully healed—couldn't give her full strength. Bianca shoved her back two stumbling steps.
Bianca's eyes had gone completely wild. The same words spilled from her mouth over and over: "You ruined me... you ruined me..."
She wrenched the knife free from Victoria's grip with a violent burst of force—and slashed down toward Victoria's right hand.