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“Veronica, what’s going on?” Laura’s voice wavered, her senses picking up an odd tension in the air she couldn’t quite place. Instinctively, she reached out, grasping Veronica’s arm to steady her as she pressed for answers.
Veronica and Laura had been close friends once–until now.
Veronica hesitated, biting her lip before choosing her words carefully. “Laura, actually, Yvette-”
“Veronica, room three needs cleaning.” A sharp voice cut through the moment like a knife.
Everyone in the room rose simultaneously, their voices rising in unison. “Come on, Veronica. Time to work.”
Laura’s face tightened, the shift so sudden it felt like a blow. She stood abruptly, eyes flashing with confusion and indignation. “Amber, what’s the meaning of this? Why’d you stop Veronica from speaking? And who the hell do you think you are?”
Amber, the woman who’d interrupted, stood tall, her beauty sharper than the polished call girls from the Public Relations Department. She’d spent two years as a waitress at Vetro Club, her confidence as natural as her scowl.
Amber turned toward Laura, her eyes cold with contempt. “Idiot, mind your own business.”
She thought, Laura’s always acting like some pure angel–untainted, like a lotus blooming out of mud. Her face practically screams ‘don’t bother me.‘ If she’s so high and mighty, she should stick to a small–town diner playing hostess, not dragging herself into Vetro Club.
“Did you just insult me?” Laura’s voice cracked, fury rising in the wake of humiliation.
Amber arched a brow, amused. “I’ll insult anyone who talks back.”
Veronica hurried over and tugged Amber aside, trying to defuse the tension.
But Laura misread the gesture, her eyes narrowing as betrayal washed over her. “Veronica, I never thought you’d turn on me like this.”
“Laura-” Veronica began, but Amber cut her off again, a sneer curling her lips. “Ignore her.”
Amber turned back to Laura, voice dripping with menace. “Watch your back, Laura.”
Despite the warning, Laura remained stubbornly blind to the danger. Just this morning, in the bathroom, she was still complaining about how Georgia had tricked her, calling that woman nothing but a cheap slut.
If she was digging her own grave, no one could stop her.
Georgia, meanwhile, had spent two days in the hospital before deciding to return to work. She owed Preston the money she’d borrowed, and survival was never optional.
Charlotte’s eyes widened when she saw her. “Georgia? You should be resting.”
“I need to work,” Georgia replied, her voice steady despite her exhaustion. “Is there anything you can offer me?”
Charlotte studied her so humble, so stubborn–and sighed. “Let me see what I can do.”
After a short wait, Charlotte returned with news. “Come with me.”
They stepped into the elevator, Charlotte briefing her quietly. “Don’t worry. Mason may be the president of Wilder Group and the Alpha of the Sapphire Tide Pack, but he’s discreet. He’s never made life difficult for our staff. Just blend in.”
Georgia froze for a heartbeat. The Wilder Group and Sapphire Tide Pack were well–known powerhouses in Gabbs–second only to the feared Dark Spike Pack.
Back when she was the Alpha’s daughter of the Silver Stream Pack, she’d attended pack gatherings, rubbing shoulders with Alphas and their heirs.
The thought of facing those worlds again made her stomach twist.
But hearing Mason had just returned to Gabbs offered a strange flicker of relief.
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<Chapter 30
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Charlotte led her to the door of room two. Inside, Mason had gathered a crowd, laughter and low conversation buzzing under the dim lighting.
Charlotte’s eyes darkened with something between hope and sorrow as Georgia slipped quietly inside, bowing her head, blending in unnoticed. She moved cautiously, pouring wine for the guests, hands trembling beneath her sleeves.
The weight of their presence pressed on her–her whole body shook beneath the surface, though no one saw.
Why are they here? she wondered in panic, desperate to vanish.
She shifted closer to what felt like safety–right beside Mason.
“You’re trembling,” a gentle voice murmured, barely louder than a breath, but it struck her like thunder.
Breath caught, Georgia stammered, “Maybe the air conditioner’s too cold. I’ll get you some wine.”
She bent toward Mason with the glass, pouring carefully. He didn’t reach for it.
“So many people here, how did you know I’m Mr. Wilder?” His question was soft, but his gaze was piercing through gold- rimmed glasses.
Her mind spun. How did I know? I didn’t.
“Do you know anyone else here?” Mason asked, voice still calm but laced with steel.
“I… guessed.” She swallowed hard, nerves tangling. The thought of being exposed made her heart pound.
Time dragged painfully, Mason’s amused, sharp gaze a silent torment.
“Why isn’t Mason drinking?” a familiar voice broke through.
Though three years had passed, Georgia recognized it instantly.
What could she do?
Facing childhood friends and old pursuers, she crouched at the feet of a stranger, her hand grasping Mason’s trouser leg reflexively.
The impatience faded from his eyes as he leaned down, lifting his glass in a smooth motion. After drinking, he smiled lightly. “I’m fine.”
Without hesitation, he pulled Georgia upright, pressing her gently to his chest. She was disoriented, her vision blurred.
His voice softened, “Enjoy yourself. Tonight’s on me.”
With that, Mason carried her out of room two, disappearing into the shadows.
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