Chapter 4

"What fifteen minutes?" A disdainful snort came from inside the booth. "Is this scholarship case actually delusional? Standing there putting on an act?"

I didn't even bother sparing them a glance.

Almost the exact second my words fell, Morrison's phone began vibrating violently in his pocket.

He fumbled for it with trembling hands, and after one glance at the message from headquarters flashing on the screen, he sucked in a sharp breath. His already sweat-drenched face went deathly pale in an instant.

Then, under the stunned gazes of everyone present, he bowed deeply toward me, his voice trembling uncontrollably:

"Miss—Jesus Christ—I just heard from corporate. The board just replied—Mr. Cyrus Covington happens to be attending a business dinner downstairs. He'll be up to the top floor within fifteen minutes to apologize to you personally."

"Additionally, the board wishes to convey... Mr. Covington is willing to surrender all his properties in the Hamptons and his company stock options, asking only that you show mercy and forgive his daughter's reckless foolishness."

The booth fell into one second of dead silence, then erupted in a burst of mocking laughter.

"Oh my God, has this financial aid student worked herself into brain damage? She actually thinks Blair's dad is coming up here to apologize to her? And hand over Hampton mansions?"

"Cordelia, have some shame. What do you think this is, some teen revenge fantasy? Mr. Covington could crush someone like you who survives on scholarships easier than firing an intern!"

"I'm recording this. This is going viral on the alumni network tomorrow—absolute gold!"

Basking in the frat boys' validation, Blair's arrogance reached its zenith:

"Cordelia, you've truly lost it. I suggest you do what I said—lick that champagne flute clean like a good girl. Otherwise when my father actually comes upstairs, you won't even get the dignity of withdrawing from this school quietly."

I pulled out a high-backed chair and sat down, legs crossed with leisure.

"What if your father does come up?"

"He's just a department executive who couldn't even make it to the main table at the Winthrop Foundation's annual gala—stuck mingling with peripheral representatives. And he has the nerve to touch me?"

My words clearly hit a nerve.

The rich kids who'd been mocking me moments ago instantly changed expressions, exchanging uneasy glances.

Seeing me casually expose her father's true standing, Blair pointed at me, shrieking in fury:

"What would someone who lives off clearance racks possibly know!"

"My father just secured a core-level project with the Winthrop Foundation—the titan that controls global capital behind the scenes! We have real access now. Crushing a nobody like you with no connections is like erasing a typo!"

I propped my chin on one hand, watching her with amused interest.

"Do you even know what this 'titan that controls global capital' is actually called?"

"Blair. And Derek." My cold gaze swept toward my scumbag ex standing nearby. "Two whole years—did either of you ever once bother to find out who I actually am?"

Blair let out a sharp, derisive laugh, as if she'd heard the world's funniest joke.

Derek adjusted his tailored suit beside her, rolling his eyes with open disgust:

"You? Still performing? Cordelia, have you forgotten that I dumped you precisely because you couldn't even afford a plane ticket for spring break in Cancun—standing next to me made me look cheap?"

"Looking back now, best decision I ever made. You're not just poor—you have terminal delusions."

Blair chimed in with mock realization: "Oh, I get it now! You're just jealous that I can give Derek real upper-class connections. You're so consumed with jealousy that you barged in here today to play crazy, right?"

Jealous?

They really were giving themselves way too much credit.

I furrowed my brow slightly, looking at them like the pathetic clowns they were:

"You two are so myopic. With people like you, you're not even worthy of—"

"Enough!"

Blair cut me off with a roar, her eyes full of venomous contempt:

"Cordelia, I truly didn't realize you'd still be spouting nonsense at a time like this. I'm done playing games with you! Get on your knees and lick my shoes right now, then grovel and beg for forgiveness and get out! We'll pretend we never knew trash like you in college!"

I tilted my head slightly, brushing off my skirt with a light smile:

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm still waiting right here for your father's apology. And that Hampton estate."

At this point, even the supposedly refined frat boys couldn't contain themselves.

"Blair, stop wasting breath on this lunatic. Since she won't take the out you're giving her—even daring to mock your father—we need to teach her a lesson. Show her the Ivy League circle isn't somewhere she can run wild!"

"Yeah Blair, just say the word! We'll pin her to the carpet right now and see if she keeps running that mouth!"

These "elites" who wore suits and ties daily weren't about to miss this golden opportunity to prove their loyalty to the Covington family. They cracked their knuckles, ready to drop their masks of civility and get physical.

Blair squeezed her wine glass tightly, nodding slowly, dangling her bait from on high:

"Whoever pins her down and makes her kneel—I'll invite you to my family's private yacht in Monaco for a party this summer!"

Under such temptation, several hulking frat boys immediately yanked off their ties, closing in on me like rabid dogs catching the scent of blood.

Morrison looked absolutely terrified, rushing forward to block them: "Have you lost your minds! All of you—back off!"

I remained seated, perfectly composed, glancing down at my watch. Amid their vulgar display, fourteen minutes had quietly slipped away.

I held up one finger toward the advancing pack:

"Fine. I'll remember your faces. But let me give you fair warning—you have exactly sixty seconds left."

Blair froze for a beat, then burst into wild laughter.

"What? Still expecting that in one minute, my father will come up here and side with you—some washed-up nobody—instead of his own daughter?"

"What are you idiots waiting for? Do it! Pin her to the floor!"

Blair waved her hand sharply. The boys' eyes gleamed with malice as they shoved Morrison aside, reaching for me.

At that critical moment—

CRASH!

The heavy double doors of the top-floor banquet hall were violently kicked open from outside.

A man's voice, thick with terror, exploded in everyone's ears like thunder:

"Stop! Everyone step back—NOW!"