Chapter 100
As she spoke, Lily swiftly pulled something from her clutch and pressed it into my palm.
A brand-new phone—same model, same color, even the same case as the one Lawrence had smashed.
"Only my contact is in here. All communications are encrypted. Even if Lawrence tears this thing apart, he won't find anything." Lily's voice was barely a whisper, words tumbling out rapid-fire. "Remember—don't reach out unless absolutely necessary."
I tightened my grip on the phone. "Got it."
Lily's footsteps as she left were feather-light, like a breeze skimming down a corridor.
I sat alone in the stall for what felt like an eternity, waiting for my frayed nerves to stop screaming. Only then did I tuck the phone against my body, its weight both burden and lifeline.
Cold water splashed against my face, raising goosebumps across my skin.
The woman in the mirror stared back—heavy makeup, eyes harboring a viciousness even foundation couldn't mask.
I drew a deep breath and pushed open the heavy carved wooden door of the restroom.
The hallway lights were dim, shadows pooling in corners. I'd barely taken a few steps when a figure materialized from the darkness.
My back slammed against the cold wall.
Lawrence planted one hand beside my head, caging me in. His overwhelming presence—that aggressive tobacco scent—invaded my senses, and the nausea I'd been fighting surged back up my throat.
He leaned in, long fingers tracing my jawline with deceptive gentleness, his tone playful yet bone-chillingly cold. "Miss Windsor, what treasures were you hunting for in there? You took quite a while."
I forced myself to meet those predatory eyes, managing a weak, mocking smile. "Mr. Lowe, if you're so curious, why not search the place yourself? I had an upset stomach. Do I need to report my bathroom breaks to you now?"
"Upset stomach?" Lawrence moved closer, his nose nearly brushing mine, warm breath ghosting across my face in a way that made my blood run cold. "What remarkable timing. Lily walks out, you walk out right after. Did you two have a nice little chat in there?"
My heart stuttered, but I kept my expression neutral, letting out a cold laugh instead. "Mr. Lowe, do you honestly think Lily—who'd love nothing more than to see me dead—and I could have a pleasant conversation in a bathroom? What would we discuss? How she's cursing my existence, or how I supposedly stole her inheritance?"
Lawrence studied me, his gaze sharp as a scalpel trying to dissect every micro-expression.
"I do think you two might be communicating behind my back." His tone was terrifyingly calm.
The next second, his hand shot up and locked around my throat.
Oxygen cut off instantly. My head snapped back, hands instinctively clutching his sleeve.
Lawrence's grip was iron, nails nearly piercing flesh, his eyes gleaming with manic control.
"Emily, don't play games with me." Each word ground through clenched teeth. "You think I'm keeping you around for your sharp tongue?"
His lips curved into something cruel as he leaned to my ear, voice dropping to a devil's whisper. "I'm keeping you as bait. As long as you're in my hands, that lucky bastard will crawl out of whatever hole he's hiding in eventually."
I stared at his twisted, triumphant face. Despite my lungs burning from lack of air, I managed a broken laugh.
"Lawrence... you've lost your mind." I locked onto his eyes, words coming out fractured but defiant. "You want a dead man... to rise from the grave? That fire burned so clean... and you're still... dreaming..."
Lawrence didn't argue. Just smiled knowingly.
The certainty in his eyes terrified me. Had he sensed something? Or was this just a predator's instinct?
"Darling, what are you doing out here?"
A saccharine voice shattered the death-grip tension in the hallway.
A mixed-race beauty in a plunging crimson gown click-clacked toward us on stilettos.
Anna—the latest trophy girlfriend making waves in New York's social circles, and the bed-warmer who'd lasted longest in Lawrence's rotation.
She spotted his hand around my throat, surprise flickering across her features before jealousy consumed it entirely.
Lawrence released my neck, seamlessly pulling me against his side in a mockery of intimacy—as if he hadn't just been choking the life out of me.
"Getting impatient?" He extended his other arm to Anna.
She immediately latched onto him, practically melding herself to his body. Her heavily lined eyes raked over me like sharpened blades, followed by a derisive snort.
"Well, well. If it isn't the infamous Miss Windsor." Anna's laugh was all condescension. "Lawrence, keeping such a backstabbing social climber around—aren't you worried she'll tarnish your reputation? She was in that bathroom forever. Probably scheming with someone, if you ask me."
Her disgusted gaze traveled over my black velvet gown as if I carried some contagious disease.
I leaned against the wall, gulping air, watching this grotesque tableau.
Lawrence didn't contradict her. Instead, he looked at me with dark amusement, waiting for my response.
I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip and straightened my spine. In this game of power and depravity, I'd run out of escape routes long ago.
"Miss Anna makes an excellent point." I pulled my lips into a smile—beautiful and frozen. "Ruthless methods are what keep you relevant by Mr. Lowe's side, aren't they? After all, Mr. Lowe does appreciate... kindred spirits."
Anna's face went ugly. She turned to Lawrence with a pout. "Lawrence, did you hear—"
But Lawrence only laughed, pinching her cheek while his eyes remained fixed on me with unnerving fascination.
I watched Anna's jealousy twist her features and felt only absurdity.
Beauty was the cheapest admission ticket to Lawrence's world, yet she treated it like a get-out-of-hell-free card.
"Miss Anna certainly understands Mr. Lowe." I tilted my head, voice dripping mockery. "After all, only equally rotten souls can breathe comfortably in the stench. I'm different—just a spectator. Here for the show."