Chapter 30

One question from Waylon and the entire hall turned their attention back to Alexia.

An unexpected spotlight held her motionless.Waylon's gesture had caught her completely off guard.

Still, she managed to reply, "Alright."①

With a flash of excitement, Elton chimed in, "Let's make it interesting-a drinking contest. The winner takes the license."

Matteo nodded, his tone smooth. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I'm in."

Korbin glanced at Roger. "What about you? Are you in?"

That invitation sent a ripple of anxiety through the crowd.

Everyone knew Roger stood little chance; this was a challenge meant to break him. From every angle, the rules tilted against him, setting the stage for a public defeat.

Even Marilee's confidence wavered. "Roger, please.Don't do this."

Anyone could see he was being singled out and set up.

A cold sweat broke across Roger's brow as he weighed his choices.

If he stepped up, his body might fail him before the end,guaranteeing a loss.

Refusing to compete would be a public admission of weakness, and with the gambling license at stake,the future of Gibson Group hung in the balance. The shrinking real estate market left them desperate for new capital.

Disgust flickered across Waylon's face as he watched Roger falter. "If it's too much for you, step aside."

Determination hardened Roger's face. "I'm in, too!"

Elton clapped his hands, approval in his voice."That's more like it."

Moments later, a cart piled with vodka arrived,carrying twenty glasses.

Elton explained, "Each man gets ten shots. Whoever finishes first takes the prize. But don't risk your life over this.Health comes first."

Anxious murmurs rippled through the crowd as they pictured the consequences.

Preparing himself, Matteo twisted open a bottle of milk, settling his nerves and shooting a cold glare at Roger's pale, tense face. Hatred simmered in his chest.

Would Roger finally break under the pressure?

Old wounds between the Braxton and Gibson families still lingered, the sting of betrayal never quite fading from memory.

No contest, no matter how public, could compare to the humiliation Matteo's parents suffered-begging the Gibson family for mercy and finding none.

Tension simmered throughout the hall, every eye drawn to the impending showdown.

Glasses clinked and the contest was on-both men gulping down shot after shot with reckless abandon.①

Every swallow scorched Roger's throat, the burning liquid leaving his body howling in protest, but there was no room for weakness.

Losing was not an option, not while Waylon watched.

Every move Waylon made tonight made it clear-this was all for Alexia, and Roger's pride refused to yield.

He'd long sensed Waylon's interest in Alexia ran deeper than friendship. That certainty had nagged him since their teenage years. Still, what difference did it make? For the past two years, Alexia had been his wife, firmly in his grasp.

No amount of rivalry changed the fact-he was her husband, at least for now. Their divorce wasn't final,not yet.

Pure stubbornness kept Roger going, even as the hall spun and his vision blurred. Somewhere in that haze,he caught a glimpse of Alexia.

Bathed in golden light, she looked almost untouchable.

A gentle smile played on Waylon's lips as he turned to Alexia. "What does Roger mean to you now?"

Nothing in his face betrayed a hint of sarcasm; the question was sincere.

Conversation died around them, all attention fixed on Alexia's reply. Her words were steady. "He means nothing to me."

A sharp, audible crack broke the silence. That single word shattered the last of Roger's resolve. Rigid and pale, he watched helplessly as the glass slipped from his grasp and exploded on the floor. Marilee darted to his side, catching him as he faltered. "Roger!"

All eyes snapped toward the sudden scene.

Waves of pain racked Roger's body, leaving him gasping and clutching his stomach.

Watching him unravel, Marilee's heart twisted with resentment and helplessness. Her eyes shot toward Alexia-just in time to see Waylon offer Alexia his hand."Come with me."

Alexia's fingers slipped easily into Waylon's,choosing him without a second thought.

As they turned away together, the chaos slipped into the background, no longer important.

The results were decided.

All eyes followed Roger-crushed, humiliated, and left standing alone-while sympathy mingled with quiet scorn among the guests.

Guiding Alexia to the center of the hall, Waylon led her out onto the dance floor, ready to open the night with the first waltz.

Music floated through the air. Alexia rested her hand on Waylon's shoulder, while he gently took her other hand.

Her voice, soft but full of meaning, reached his ear."About earlier...thank you."

"Don't mention it. I've had enough of him for years."Waylon changed the subject with a teasing smile."I see you're a natural on the dance floor. Secret lessons?"

Together they glided to the rhythm, sometimes drawn close, sometimes spinning apart. Alexia lifted her chin, pride shining in her eyes. "Naturally. My teacher was top-notch."

"Let me guess-a man?"

"A woman, actually." Alexia's smile softened with memory. "We met in high school, back in Bymill. She showed me nothing but kindness. Sadly, she passed away three years ago." That last word dimmed her brightness.

Regret flickered across Waylon's features. "I didn't mean to remind you of something sad. I'm sorry."

A look of surprise crossed Alexia's face. "You don't have to apologize for that. Waylon, you never apologized before."

"That was a different time," he answered quiely."People aren't meant to stay the same forever."

A quiet pause fell between them. After a moment,Alexia asked, "Have you been alright these past seven years?"