Chapter 116
Serena
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch into something resembling a smile. "You're late," I said, sliding into the backseat. "If you'd shown up ten minutes ago, I might have taken all my frustration out on you."
Vincent's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror, and the smile that touched the corners didn't quite reach them. "Is that so? Well, maybe I spotted you twenty minutes ago and decided self-preservation was worth more than punctuality." His tone was light, but there was an edge to it that made me pause.
My smile vanished. "Wait—you've been watching me? How long have you been—"
"Here." He cut me off smoothly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an envelope. He passed it back to me before I could finish the thought, the gesture so casual it took me a second to register what I was holding.
I opened it, and my breath caught.
A check. Ten million dollars. Signed by Lance Lawson in his sharp, precise handwriting.
My heart slammed against my ribs. "What the fuck is this?"
"That check should solve most of your frustration," Vincent said, his tone maddeningly calm for someone who'd just handed me ten million dollars. "As for the rest of your problems—I took the liberty of doing some digging. Felix and the owner of Sterling Trust are college roommates. That's why your loan disappeared. He's also been making calls in financial circles, the quiet kind that don't leave trails. Anyone who helps you becomes his enemy."
"That bastard," I hissed, staring at the check. My hands were shaking. "So Lance thought—what? That I'd just take his money and call it a day?"
"He wants you to accept it," Vincent said. "He doesn't see another way for you to get the funding you need."
I clenched my jaw. "But this gives Felix exactly what he wants. Proof that Lance is using company resources to support me. Evidence of favoritism, or worse—"
"It's his personal funds," Vincent interrupted gently. "Not tied to the company or his shares. Completely separate."
I stared at the check, my pulse racing. For a moment—just a moment—I let myself imagine it. Taking the money. Paying off the debts. Stabilizing the company. Proving to everyone that I could do this.
But then I thought of last night. Felix lurking in the shadows with his camera. That flash cutting through the darkness.
"Has there been any gossip today?" I asked suddenly. "At the office? In the boardroom? About Lance and me?"
Vincent frowned. "What kind of gossip?"
"The kind where Lance is accused of stealing his nephew's girlfriend. Or bankrolling some random woman he's sleeping with."
"Nothing," Vincent said, genuinely surprised. "It's been quiet. Same as always."
That was worse. So much worse.
"Fuck," I muttered, my grip tightening on the check. "Felix has photos of us. He's been watching us for weeks, maybe longer. And he hasn't used them yet."
Vincent's expression darkened in the rearview mirror. "That's Felix's specialty—he doesn't pull the trigger until he's holding enough ammunition to guarantee the kill. Right now, he's still loading the gun."
The check felt like it was burning in my hands. I shoved it back at Vincent, my decision crystallizing in an instant. "I'm not giving him the opening. If I take this, it's the perfect ammunition. Lance using his personal fortune to bail out a failing company run by a woman he's been photographed kissing? Felix would have a field day."
"But your company is on life support," Vincent said, his voice cutting through my resolve. "And Lance doesn't give a damn what people think. He never has."
"Neither do I," I shot back, already opening the car door. "But there's a difference between not caring what people think and handing Felix a loaded weapon. I don't mind the gossip—I mind giving him proof that I needed saving." I stepped out onto the sidewalk, meeting Vincent's eyes in the mirror. "Tell Lance thank you, but I'm solving this my way."
Vincent looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded slowly. "He's not going to like this."
"He'll get over it," I said, and slammed the door.