Chapter 172
Chapter 172:
Every instinct screamed at him to walk out there — to pull Crawford’s jacket from her shoulders and take her away. But his feet refused to move. If he stepped onto that terrace, he would look unhinged, and worse, he had no right to claim her anymore. The crushing, absolute powerlessness made something hollow and desperate open up inside him.
Back at the dinner table, Alycia sat alone. Nearby conversations had tapered to murmurs, and glances drifted toward her conspicuously empty side of the table.
Her chest tightened with toxic jealousy and humiliation. She reached for her heavy silver steak knife, her knuckles blanching from the force of her grip. Rather than make a public scene that would shatter the socialite image she had spent years constructing, she lowered her gaze to her plate. Under the cover of the dim lighting, she pressed the serrated blade into her dessert and carved the delicate pastry into an unrecognizable mangle of cream and crumbs — over and over, methodical and blank-eyed — her gaze locked on the empty space where June had been sitting, while a dark, precise plan fully crystallized in her mind.
Alycia dropped the silver knife onto the ruined dessert. She stood, her face smoothing in an instant into a mask of chilling, calculated composure — though her eyes still burned with ugly rage — and stormed toward the ladies’ restroom to fix her makeup.
As she moved down the quiet, marble-lined hallway, she spotted Abbie. June’s assistant was carrying a small silver clutch, on her way back to the ballroom to return June’s phone.
Alycia’s eyes sharpened with malicious intent. She lunged forward, seizing Abbie’s arm with her acrylic nails and yanking the smaller woman into a dark, empty alcove near the restroom doors.
𝖣isсo𝘃𝖾𝗋 𝘩і𝖽dе𝗇 g𝘦𝗆𝘀 о𝗻 ѕ.𝘤𝘰𝗺
Abbie gasped, eyes wide with terror. She tried to pull free, but Alycia shoved her hard against the wall and leaned in until her face was only inches away, one manicured finger aimed directly at Abbie’s chest.
“Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little rat,” Alycia hissed. “Stay away from June Erickson p>
Abbie’s body began to shake. “Let me go p>
“You think working for a rich woman erases your past?” Alycia whispered, her eyes wild and fixed. “I know exactly who you are. I know about your alcoholic father. I know what happened in that locker room in high school. I want a full report on every private meeting she has with Crawford Love — where they go, what they discuss. And I want you to find a way to get me the latest data models for her new drug. Do that, or everyone will be reading about ‘Trash Can Girl’ and her drunken father on Page Six by morning p>
The threat landed like a physical blow. Tears filled Abbie’s eyes and she shook her head frantically, the trauma of her past rendering her completely still.
Alycia smoothed her dress with a slow, satisfied smile and walked away, leaving Abbie sliding down the wall, struggling to breathe.
Back inside the grand ballroom, the overhead lights shifted and the live orchestra eased into a slow, sweeping waltz. It was time for the first dance.