Chapter 262
Chapter 262:
It was a matte black Maybach with reinforced panels and bulletproof glass. The kind of vehicle that didn’t just transport people; it protected heads of state. Or mafia kings.
The car stopped. The driver stepped out. Felix Carter—Alistair’s head of security—wore his signature dark suit despite the mud. He carried a small white paper bag with a green cross on it.
He walked up to the fence where Grace stood.
“Delivery for Ms. Sterling,” Felix said, his voice carrying the authority of a man who usually gave orders, not deliveries. “Her requested medication p>
The trainees stared. Exhaustion on their faces shifted into shock.
“Is that… an armored car?” Tiffany whispered.
“Who the hell is she?” Miles muttered. “That’s military-grade security p>
Grace took the bag, looking slightly unsettled by Felix’s imposing presence. She handed it to me. “Here. Your… vitamins p>
It was actually my migraine medication, which I’d forgotten to pack. I’d texted Julian’s assistant on the burner phone last night, but evidently Julian had passed the message to Alistair.
I took the bag. “Thank you p>
I turned back to the group. They stared at the Maybach, then at me. The envy was palpable—thick enough to choke on.
But mixed with the envy was something else. They’d just watched the girl with the private security detail outrun them all.
I saw Whitney clench her fists, digging her nails into the dirt.
Julian had set the stage perfectly. He gave me the luxury to make them hate me, and the challenge to make them fear me.
By breakfast, the atmosphere in the cafeteria was toxic. The trainees limped in, sore and grumpy, lining up for standard oatmeal and boiled eggs. I walked in. Grace waved me over.
“Ms. Sterling,” she called, her voice unnecessarily loud. “Over here p>
She pointed to a separate small table set apart from the others. On it was a spread that belonged in a five-star hotel: avocado toast with poached eggs, smoked salmon, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a pot of steaming, aromatic coffee.
“Special nutrition plan,” Grace announced to the room. “Per Mr. Vance’s orders p>
The cafeteria went dead silent. The clatter of spoons stopped.
Rо𝗆𝗮𝘯се no𝗏𝗲𝘭𝘴 𝗼𝘯 𝗯е.с𝗈𝘮
I looked at the food. Then I looked at Grace. She wore that fake, tight smile. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was painting a target on my back in neon paint.
If I refused, I insulted Julian. If I ate, I declared war on every starving trainee in the room.
I sat down.
“Unbelievable.” Whitney slammed her tray onto a nearby table. “Why does she get special treatment? Because she slept with the boss p>
“Careful, Whitney,” Grace said, but she didn’t sound stern. She sounded amused. “Ms. Sterling is… an investment p>
I picked up a fork and sliced into the poached egg. The yolk ran out, rich and golden.
I ate slowly, deliberately. I felt their eyes boring into me. I decided to own the villain role. If they wanted to hate me, I would give them a show.
Whitney stood. She grabbed a pitcher of juice from her table.
She walked over to me.
“Oops,” she said, as she “tripped p>
The pitcher tilted. Cold, sticky apple juice cascaded down.
But I moved. I grabbed the edge of the table and shoved it hard. It screeched against the floor, slamming into Whitney’s hip just as she poured.
The juice missed my head, but soaked my left shoulder and arm.
Whitney stumbled back from the impact. “You crazy bitch p>