Chapter 157 Remove The Obstacle
The club was already alive when Celia arrived.
Music pulsed loudly through the air, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor and up into her body, lights flashing wildly across crowded bodies moving in rhythm. Laughter echoed, voices overlapped, glasses clinked it was chaotic, overwhelming, intoxicating.
This was exactly what she needed. She thought, nodding in approval. This was what she needed to calm her head so she could think properly on how to get her man.
Without sparing the room a glance, she walked straight to the bar.
"Whiskey," she said immediately. "Neat."
She knew this wasn't good for her or her condition, but the state she was mentally was going to drive her crazy if she didn't take a drink.
She'd just drink a half glass. That's all. She told herself as she looked at the bartender.
The bartender nodded and poured her a glass.
Celia picked it up and downed it in one swift motion.
The burn hit her throat hard, sharp and unforgiving, but she didn’t flinch.
"Another."
She told herself she'd stop but she continued to request after each glass.
Each drink blurred the edges of her thoughts just enough to make the anger feel… distant.
She leaned against the counter, her fingers loosely wrapped around the glass, her mind drifting again despite herself.
Thinking about everything again, her jaw tightened.
"I won’t lose," she muttered under her breath.
While she was busy drinking, someone was busy watching her.
She didn’t notice him at first. But he had noticed her the moment she walked in.
The man sat just a seat away from her, his posture relaxed, his expression calm, his gaze steady as he observed her quietly, like someone studying a puzzle he already knew how to solve. He had seen her picture with Derek, had watched the interview, and he could tell immediately… that it was the reason she was there.
He continued watching her as she downed glass after glass of whiskey, noting every reaction, every shift in her expression.
She was angry, drinking alone and was emotionally unstable right now.
This was the perfect bait for his plan. Her situation just made it easier to approach her.
Celia finally felt it, that gaze.
She turned sharply, her eyes landing on him immediately.
"What?" she snapped, irritation clear in her tone. "If you’re looking for a woman, look somewhere else," she said, her voice raised slightly so he could hear her.
Her eyes scanned him quickly, and dismissively. "You’re old enough to be my father. I don't fuck old men," she said but the old man didn’t react.
Not even slightly.
He simply took a slow, measured sip of his drink before setting it down calmly.
"I’m not here for that," he said and Celia scoffed.
"Then why are you staring?" She asked with an eye roll.
The man met her gaze evenly, unbothered.
Then he sighed and said, "Because I saw the news," he replied. "And I felt sorry for you."
That made her pause.
Just for a second.
"What?" she asked, her voice softer now, though still guarded.
"I watched the press conference," he continued. "The way he spoke about you… the way he dismissed you like you were nothing."
He shook his head slightly. She'd thought of asking him how he knew she was the person but then quickly remembered she'd stupidly put her face out when she paid someone to take a picture of her hugging Derek and putting it on the net.
"That wasn’t right."
Something shifted in Celia’s expression.
The alcohol had already weakened her defenses.
Now his words slipped in easily, finding their way into cracks she didn’t realize were there.
"You don’t know anything," she said, but there was no real force behind it anymore.
The man leaned slightly closer.
"Then tell me," he said calmly. “I’m all ears. I'm here to listen to you.”
And just like that, she did. The words spilled out faster than she expected, messy, emotional, tangled with bitterness, resentment, and half-truths she had convinced herself were real.
"He’s lying," she said, shaking her head. "I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who came back into my life, the one who couldn’t stay away, but suddenly I’m the problem?"
The man didn't say anything. He just listened, nodded and encouraged where he should.
Exactly the way he always did.
"I see," he murmured. "So you’re the one being pushed aside."
"Yes," she said immediately, clinging tightly to that version of the story.
The man studied her for a moment.
"You still want him," he said, looking at her.
It wasn’t a question. Celia hesitated and then nodded.
"Yes."
The man smiled faintly. "Good."
She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret.
"Because if you didn’t… there would be no point in this conversation."
Celia’s confusion deepened as she looked at him. "What are you talking about?"
"You want him," the man repeated calmly. "And he’s choosing someone else."
Her jaw tightened again. "That's because he's a fool. If not, he wouldn't be choosing her now."
"I see. So why don't you just take him back?" He asked and she glanced at him.
The simplicity of how he said it made her blink and then she laughed. "It’s not that easy," she said, her voice quieter now. She had tried before… and look where it got her...abandoned, humiliated, and alone.
The man smiled again, slow and knowing.
"It is."
She stared at him, her frown deepening. "How?"
He held her gaze, his voice steady, deliberate, almost persuasive. "It's easy. All you have to do is remove the obstacle."
Celia’s brows furrowed. "…what?" She asked in shock.
"The wife," he said plainly.
Everything went quiet.
For a moment, even the music seemed distant.
"That’s insane," she said, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her own voice.
The man shrugged lightly.
"As long as she’s there, he will always go back to her," he said. "No matter what you do."
He leaned back slightly, watching her carefully.
"But if she’s gone…"
A pause.
"He won’t have a choice." He concluded.
Celia’s breathing slowed.
Her thoughts began to shift as she began to think about it in his perspective.
"You really think that would work?" she asked quietly.
The man's smile deepened.
"I know it will."
Celia looked down at her drink, her reflection staring back at her, distorted, unsteady, unfamiliar.
Slowly… her fingers tightened around the glass. She had to think about her condition. The very reason she was scared of drinking too much.
She thought about it for just a moment and when she looked up again the hesitation was gone, replaced by something colder.
Something far more dangerous.
"How do we do it?" she asked.
And across from her, Michael smiled. Because he knew she was exactly where he wanted her to be.