Chapter 57
Chapter 57
Nathan didn’t say much more, just pushed the case containing the tanzanite deeper into the car.
The tanzanite–he wasn’t giving it to Vivian.
That’s why he’d bid on the pigeon blood ruby pendant.
By giving Vivian the pendant, he only needed a lame excuse to keep the tanzanite.
But even now, Nathan couldn’t figure out why he needed an excuse at all.
He’d never needed reasons for anything before.
Meanwhile, Amelia had gotten off the helicopter and was now in a Maybach heading back to the hospital.
The car glided smoothly as she curled up in the back seat.
“How you feeling? Okay?” Louie asked worriedly.
Amelia just shook her head slightly to show she was fine, staring out at the streets.
One charity gala had completely drained her mentally. The psychological exhaustion was worse than her physical weakness.
Night had fallen hard.
Strong winds whipped cotton fluff from the street trees, spiraling it up like mini tornadoes.
When was the last time she’d been this mentally wrecked?
Probably four years ago in Seattle.
On that ocean liner, during that double no–limit war, amid all the booze and schmoozing, someone had gripped her hand tight, raising paddle after
paddle.
While others wavered, he’d orchestrated a bidding war between two other players.
Watching them fight until they were red–faced under his invisible manipulation, easily torching half a city’s worth of wealth, he’d held her hand and whispered:
“Amelia, in business, letting emotions take over is death–just like them right now.”
That year they’d worked together, coordinating multiple parties to trigger that double no–limit battle, bleeding their target’s funds early so they could more easily grab their real prize.
Finally, clutching their winnings as they boarded the speedboat that came to extract them, watching the massive liner descend into chaos, she’d stood right beside him.
The wind on deck that night had been brutal, but he’d shielded her from most of it.
He’d said he wouldn’t throw the word “love” around easily, but she was part of his future plans.
Back then, she’d thought those were the most beautiful words ever.
She’d also believed that real love meant two equals working hand in hand, so he’d tried just as hard.
But then…
Vour WiFO’s Cono
23.18
Chapter 57
Amelia closed her eyes.
Then Vivian showed up.
Next to her, Louie told the driver to be careful, then scrolled through his phone.
The more he read, the more pissed he got.
Amelia picked up on his mood and turned: “What’s wrong?”
Louie didn’t want to say.
But Amelia just stared at him.
Finally, he realized that even if he didn’t tell her, with all the online spin happening, she’d find out soon enough anyway.
So he handed her his phone.
Amelia took it and scrolled through the bullshit.
Beside her, Louie’s face was twisted with rage: “What the hell is this garbage online!”
“Shouldn’t they be praising you for having the balls to challenge Nathan’s no–limit bid and actually holding your own psychologically? Why is it all Vivian worship?”
“And there are rumors you’re a donation fraud?”
“That’s fucking insane! That tanzanite was yours–you definitely put in way more than Vivian. If anyone’s freeloading, it’s her!”
The more he talked, the more fired up Louie got.
“We never even invited Vivian to begin with–she crashed the party!”
“I just checked–she didn’t donate shit afterward either. Just rode Nathan’s coattails.”
After reading everything, Amelia handed the phone back.
“She’s with Nathan, so those donations naturally count as hers,” Amelia said flatly.
“But…”
Louie wanted to say something but shut his mouth.
But you two aren’t even divorced yet–they’re spending your and Nathan’s joint assets, Louie thought.
But he was afraid of hurting her.
Amelia already knew what he meant.
She smiled at him: “Nathan and I have prenups. There’s a lot I can’t touch.”
Seeing Louie frown, she added: “All the big corporations work like this. Cavendish Group too.”
“As for these online rumors, Louie, I’m not ready for people to know who I really am.”
Only then did Louie nod.
He got it completely.
He just thought she deserved way better.
Seeing Louie understood, Amelia went back to watching the window.
23.39
Wake Your Wife’s Gone
Chapter 57
Louie glanced up at her profile.
If he were strong enough to boot his brothers and take over Cavendish Group to have real influence with Grandpa, would today’s mess not have required her to fix it?
Fists clenched, he finally looked away.
The night was dead quiet as the car cut through cotton fluff whirlwinds, heading toward the hospital.
Meanwhile, in a stretched Bentley, the three Wessex siblings sat together.
Charlotte Wessex looked at the online marketing blitz with pure disgust.
Lester was even more vocal: “Are these people totally missing the point? Is Vivian’s PR bullshit really worth this much attention? They should be focusing on Elena’s actual skills!”
Charlotte glanced at her clueless brother: “Of course you can see through this, but most people can’t handle the complexity, and they just want drama anyway. They don’t give a shit about auctions.”
Lester sulked–he knew that, obviously.
But he just couldn’t stand Vivian.
“All day long, what can she do besides spin?” Lester said. “If she’s sick, get treatment. If it can’t be treated, find better places. Being with Nathan means she’s got unlimited money and resources.”
“Even if it really can’t be fixed, what’s the point of all this daily theatrics? Isn’t she supposed to be some saint? Kind to everyone except Amelia… Ow! Sis!”
Before Lester could finish, Charlotte punched him in the head.
“You hit me again!”
Charlotte rolled her eyes: “You never shut up. My ears are getting fucking calluses.”
“Charlotte!” Lester was even more pissed.
Among the three Wessex siblings, people usually called the guys Arthur and Lester, but in all of New York, only one person could be called Miss Wessex–Charlotte.
“That’s exactly why I hit you,” Charlotte said, exasperated. “I know you hate Vivian. Honestly, I do too. But you need to see the bigger picture.”
Charlotte looked at their eldest brother Arthur sitting quietly: “Vivian’s personal spin game is strong. Behind her, there’s definitely a killer PR team.”
Lester still looked lost, like a confused golden retriever.
Charlotte sighed and broke it down: “Look–every word sounds gracious, everything treats Amelia nicely, never directly attacks Elena, but somehow all the internet morons got completely played into trashing Amelia and Elena
“Sure, part of it’s her talking skills, but it needs a whole PR machine working with her.”
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