Chapter 74
Chapter 74:
“I figured,” Bella shrugged. She pointed a chip at Eliza’s feet. “You don’t have the kept-woman vibe. Your shoes are last season. No offense p>
Eliza looked down at her sensible black flats. They were practical. “Thanks p>
“I’ll handle the rumors,” Bella decided, standing and crumpling the chip bag. “I hate Gavin more than I like gossip. He once tried to fire me for dyeing my hair. Come on — let’s get real food. My treat. That sandwich looks depressing p>
Twenty minutes later, they were seated at The Ivy, a trendy bistro two blocks away, packed with the lunch rush — suits, salads, and performative laughter.
Bella was a fountain of information. She dissected the office politics like a surgeon: who to avoid (Sarah), who was sleeping with whom (the IT guy and the receptionist), and which coffee machine had the best espresso.
Eliza relaxed. For the first time in months, she felt like a normal twenty-year-old having lunch with a friend.
Then the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted. The ambient noise seemed to dip.
A waiter rushed past their table.
“Mr. Hyde! Right this way,” the host announced, his voice thick with deference.
Eliza froze. Her fork clattered onto her plate.
Anson walked in, impeccable in a navy suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. But his eyes were restless, sweeping the room like radar. He was with a client — an older man in grey — though he paid the man almost no attention.
𝘚𝘩a𝗋е у𝗼𝘂𝗋 𝖿𝖺v𝗼𝘳𝗂𝘵e𝘴 f𝘳𝗼𝗆
His gaze moved from table to table. Then it locked onto Eliza.
He stopped dead. The client walked into his back.
Anson didn’t acknowledge him. He walked straight toward Eliza’s table, his stride long and deliberate.
Eliza’s heart began to race. She gripped the edge of the table.
“Eliza,” Anson said, stopping beside her chair. His voice was smooth, but it carried a cutting edge. “I didn’t know you could afford this place p>
Bella raised an eyebrow and looked from Anson to Eliza, connecting the dots. “And I didn’t know you were rude, Mr. Hyde p>
Anson ignored Bella entirely. He leaned down and placed his hand on the back of Eliza’s chair. “We need to talk,” he said. “Alone p>
“I’m having lunch with my colleague, Anson,” Eliza said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Go away p>
Anson’s fingers tightened on the wood of the chair. His knuckles went white. He leaned closer, crowding her space.
“It’s about Victoria,” he said. His eyes were dark, empty of any real warmth. “She’s asking for you. She’s getting worse p>
Eliza stared up at him. The mention of Victoria was a calculated strike, aimed at the part of her that had spent years desperate for a mother figure. But the memory of Victoria’s hysterical phone call and the staged illness was still fresh.
“I visited Victoria last week,” Eliza said, her voice flat. “She was well enough to scream at the maids p>
Anson’s jaw tightened. A muscle feathered beneath his eye. He had been caught in a lie, and he hated it.
“She took a turn. Just now,” he doubled down, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Don’t be heartless, Eliza p>