Chapter 43 Pawn
Veronica's POV:
The moment I walked into the Regency Royale Hotel, heads turned.
The party lounge was drenched in gold and crystal—champagne flutes clinking, low music and laughter. It was one of those spaces built to intimidate... to remind you who belonged and who didn’t.
I spotted Chase immediately. He sat at the center table. When he looked up and saw me, his lips curved, smirking at me.
I took the seat across from him without asking.
“I knew you’d come back to my lap, darling,” he said smoothly, eyes sweeping over me. “You look stunning, by the way.”
If he had said that three months ago, I would’ve melted.
God, how I had yearned for even a single compliment from him. The last year of our relationship had been emotionally exhausting. He'd been extremely bossy, controlling, rude in ways that cut deep and left scars. He'd criticized everything—my clothes, my opinions, my ambitions, my friends. He'd made me feel small and insignificant and lucky that someone like him even bothered someone like me.
I had endured it all quietly, convincing myself that if I tried harder, loved better... I would win his heart back.
That version of me was dead.
Now, sitting across from him in this overpriced lounge, my heart burned with only one thing: Vengeance.
"Let Laura go," I said, my voice cold and sharp as a blade.
Chase raised an eyebrow, amused. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I leaned forward, my hands flat on the table. "Let Laura go. End this farce of an engagement. Stop using an innocent girl just to blackmail me."
He actually laughed, making my blood boil.
"Oh, Veronica. Always so dramatic. Laura is a grown woman who made her own choice. I'm not using anyone."
"Bullshit... you orchestrated this entire thing specifically to hurt me. You planted those stories about my startup. You turned the media against me. And now you're parading poor Laura around like some kind of pawn, knowing exactly what it would do to me and my father."
Chase took a slow sip of his whiskey, completely unbothered. "You give me too much credit, darling."
"Stop calling me that," I snapped.
"Why?" His smile widened. "You used to love it when I called you darling. You used to melt every time I so much as looked at you."
"That was before I realized what you really are."
"And what's that?"
"A manipulative, sadistic bastard who gets off on controlling people."
He laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it. "Strong words from someone who came crawling to my table."
"Oh shut up..."
"Semantics." He waved a dismissive hand. "You're here, which means I'm winning."
I slammed my palm on the table hard enough that several people turned to look. "Let Laura go. She doesn't deserve to be caught up in whatever sick game you're playing."
"And why exactly do you care this much about nobody like Laura?" He said it so casually... like Laura was nothing more than an inconvenient piece on a chessboard.
"She's not a nobody," I shot back. "She's a person. A human being with feelings and a history you know nothing about."
"Oh, I know plenty," Chase said with a smirk. "But please, enlighten me. Why should I care about her feelings?"
"I'm serious, Chase." My voice rose, drawing more attention. "You don't know her. She has a history of depression and anxiety. Real, clinical conditions that she's struggled with for years. If you keep manipulating her like this, if you break her heart the way you're planning to, you could seriously hurt her. You could end up killing her."
Chase studied me for a long moment, then leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "If you're this concerned about poor, fragile Laura," he said slowly, "then perhaps you should come back to me. End this ridiculous rebellion. Marry me the way your father wants, the way we planned. Then I'll let Laura go. Simple."
"You've lost that privilege already," I said through gritted teeth.
"Have I?"
"And I'm one step away from pressing charges against you for defamation, harassment, and fraud. I only came here to ask nicely before I let my lawyers handle it."
Chase threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Veronica. Sweet, naive Veronica. Do you really think any court will hold me accountable? My family has lawyers who eat lawyers for breakfast. We have judges on speed dial. We donate to every politician who matters." He leaned in closer. "You have nothing. No proof, no power, no leverage. You should worry less about threatening me and more about your father, who's probably drafting the paperwork to disown you as we speak."
My hands clenched into fists under the table, nails digging into my palms.
"You're a monster," I whispered.
"Maybe," he agreed easily. "But I'm a monster who's winning."
I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm done here."
"Wait," Chase said, stopping me mid-turn. "Before you go storming off... let me give you some information. Tonight, there's a reception at the Bellamy estate—you know, Laura's family home? I'll be there with Laura, hosting a little party for my inner circle. Engagement celebration, meeting the family, all that tedious social obligation nonsense."
He paused, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
"You should come," he continued. "Crash the party. Make a scene. Try to convince Laura one more time that I'm the villain. Or..." he smiled, "you could accept reality. Come to the party, publicly apologize for your behavior, and beg me to take you back. Your choice."
"I'll never—"
"You will," he interrupted confidently. "Because here's what you're not understanding, darling. You have no real choice. Your startup is dead. Your reputation is ruined. Your father is about to disown you. You're drowning, Veronica, and I'm the only lifeline being offered."
He stood up, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease, and stepped closer to me.
"So you can keep fighting," he said softly, "keep pretending you have options, keep clinging to your pride. But eventually—tonight, tomorrow, next week—you'll come crawling back to me..."
He brushed past me, his shoulder deliberately bumping mine.
"See you tonight," he called over his shoulder. "Or don't. Either way, I've already won."
I stood there, frozen, trembling with rage and humiliation.