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Chapter_12
Roselyn’s taunts hung in the air, the malicious satisfaction in her eyes unmistakable. But the atmosphere around their table had shifted again—gone was the casual, almost indifferent air from before. Whitney could feel the weight of the man’s stare, and it made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure what game he was playing, but the tension in the room thickened with every second.
“Using a black card to buy me dinner?” the man repeated, his voice dropping low, almost predatory, and his eyes narrowing as he fixed Roselyn with a cold, calculating gaze.
Roselyn’s confidence faltered, but she quickly masked it with another sly grin. “What’s the problem? I figured you’d be flattered. I’m sure Whitney can’t afford a meal here anyway—so I thought I’d show her how it’s done.”
Whitney’s stomach churned, but she kept her face neutral, refusing to show weakness. The sting of Roselyn’s words about her past with Simon cut deeper than she expected. She had always played the part of the obedient girlfriend, pretending everything was fine even when Simon’s neglect had left her starving for affection—and for more than just food. But now, standing in front of the masked man, it felt like all the resentment she had been burying inside was finally bubbling to the surface.
“Enough of this,” the man growled, his eyes flashing as his hand suddenly shot out, gripping Roselyn’s wrist with a terrifying force.
Roselyn flinched, her hand jerking away from his chin as if she’d been burned. But the man didn’t let go. He pulled her closer, his grip tightening, and for the first time, Roselyn seemed genuinely startled.
“You think you can buy me with a black card?” the man continued, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.”
Whitney could see Roselyn’s bravado crumbling. She tried to pull away, but the man’s hold on her wrist was unyielding. “I—I was just trying to be friendly, a little fun,” she stammered, her confident demeanor completely shattered.
The man’s mask seemed to intensify his presence—his sharp features and cold eyes made him seem even more dangerous. “You were trying to humiliate someone,” he corrected. “That’s not ‘friendly,’ that’s pathetic.”
Whitney’s gaze flicked from Roselyn to the man, wondering just how much power he held. She had no idea who he truly was or why he seemed so different from the man he’d first appeared to be. But there was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made her feel like she was in the presence of someone who controlled the room—if not the entire world.
Roselyn tugged at her arm once more, but the man held her firmly in place. “You should leave, Roselyn. And take your black card with you. It’s worthless here.”
The sudden shift in power left Roselyn stunned. She glanced at Whitney, her eyes narrowing in barely veiled rage, but she said nothing more. With a final sneer, she stormed off, muttering under her breath, “You’ll regret this, Whitney.”
As the tension in the air faded with her departure, the man released a slow breath and turned back to Whitney, his expression unreadable.
Whitney didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more unsettled by his intervention. She had never been good at reading people, but there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was watching her every move, every reaction.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Whitney said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was hesitant, unsure of where this encounter was heading.
His lips twitched into a slight smile, though his eyes remained guarded. “I didn’t do it for you.” The words were blunt, but they carried an edge of amusement. “I did it because she needed to know her place.”
Whitney swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. His words hung in the air like a challenge she couldn’t quite decipher.
“And you,” he continued, his voice softening slightly. “Are you always this silent when someone insults you?”
Whitney hesitated. She had spent so many years swallowing insults, keeping her head down, doing what was expected of her. But something about the way he was looking at her—challenging her—made her want to answer honestly.
“I don’t like confrontation,” she admitted quietly. “But I’m not as silent as I used to be.”
The man raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’ll have to see for myself, then.”
Whitney’s heart raced as she met his gaze. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for whatever game he was playing, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was finally in control of something. Even if that something was just herself.
The rest of the meal passed in an odd silence, the unease between them palpable, but neither of them seemed willing to break it. The food was untouched, left cold in the face of all that had happened. Whitney’s thoughts whirled, trying to make sense of it all.
But she knew one thing for certain: her life was about to change, whether she was ready or not. And the man across from her, with his chilling mask and cryptic presence, seemed to be the one who would lead her into whatever came next.
