Chapter 84
Serena
Wesley's words still echoed in my ears.
The hallway had gone silent. Everyone watching, waiting—for me to stammer out excuses, to crumble under their judgment, to play the role of the guilty little slut they'd already decided I was.
And you know what? Fuck this.
The panic that had been clawing at my chest twisted into something sharper, hotter. Anger.
"Get out of my way," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Vanessa laughed—that shrill, triumphant sound I'd come to despise. "Get out of your way? So you can run back to Lance? Back to your sugar daddy?" She waved the photographs like they were proof of murder. "Oh no, honey. We're not done here. Not even close."
Wesley's face had gone from pale to flushed, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. "All this time," he said, his voice shaking. "All this time I thought maybe—maybe you had some dignity left. Some self-respect." He stepped closer, and I could see the hurt beneath the anger, the betrayal bleeding through. "But you already had your next target lined up, didn't you? Someone with real money. Real power. My fucking uncle."
His voice rose. "Did you sleep with him? Is that what this is? Is that how you got everything—the job, the clothes, the confidence?" He was almost shouting now. "Did you fuck him, Serena?"
People were starting to gather. I could see them in my peripheral vision—lawyers in expensive suits, assistants with curious expressions, all of them drawn to the drama unfolding in their pristine hallway.
"My private life," I said through gritted teeth, "is none of your goddamn business."
Wesley's face went from red to purple. "You're not even denying it!" He looked at Vanessa, then back at me, his expression caught between rage and something that looked almost like grief. "Jesus Christ. I actually thought—I thought maybe you were different. That maybe under all that insecurity and people-pleasing, there was someone real." He laughed bitterly. "But you're just another woman who'll do whatever it takes to climb the ladder, aren't you?"
His hand shot out, and I saw the slap coming before it landed.
I caught his wrist mid-swing, my fingers digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks.
"Don't," I hissed. "Don't you dare touch me."
Wesley's eyes widened—surprise, then anger, then something that might have been fear. "You're really going to play the victim here? After what you've done?"
"I'm warning you." I held his wrist steady, our faces inches apart. "You don't have the right to put your hands on me. You lost that privilege the moment you chose her over me."
"Let go—"
But Vanessa had other plans.
She lunged forward, grabbing my bag from where it hung on my shoulder and yanking it away. The strap broke, and suddenly she was ripping through the contents, spilling my phone and wallet and—
The contracts.
"Oh my God," she breathed, pulling out the folder. Her smile was vicious as she opened it, her eyes scanning the pages. "Oh my GOD. Wesley, look at this."
She thrust the papers in front of him, and I watched his expression shift as he read.
"Vance Heritage," Vanessa said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Stock transfer agreement. Debt assumption—twenty million dollars." She looked at me, eyes glittering. "Wow. Your sugar daddy is really invested in keeping you happy, isn't he? Buying you a whole company? That's some premium-level prostitution right there."
I lunged for the contracts, but Wesley grabbed my arms, spinning me around and pinning them behind my back. Not hard enough to hurt—he wasn't stupid enough to leave bruises in a place like this—but enough to keep me immobilized.
"Let me go," I snarled.
"Not until we're done talking." Wesley's breath was hot against my ear as Vanessa continued to flip through the papers. "Jesus, Serena. It's real. All of it. You actually did this. You actually whored yourself out to my uncle so he'd buy you a company."
"That's not—"
"Don't lie to me!" His voice cracked. "Don't stand there and pretend this is something it's not. The photographs, the money, the sudden meteoric rise at Lawson Corp—it all makes sense now."
The crowd had grown. I could hear them now, their whispers carrying in the hallway's acoustics.
"—sleeping with the CEO—"
"—his own nephew's ex-girlfriend—"
"—how desperate do you have to be—"
"—went from the nephew to the uncle, smart girl—"
"—no shame at all—"
"—probably planned it from the beginning—"
My face burned. My chest felt tight. I wanted to scream, to fight, to explain that it wasn't like that, that nothing had happened between Lance and me, that these people didn't know what they were talking about—
"Excuse me!"
The voice cut through the murmuring crowd like a knife—clear, sharp, and absolutely done with everyone's bullshit.