The Billionaire's Rental Wife Is A Hot Shot-Chapter 58: Petty Human

Vincent and the staff watched curiously as tension simmered between the two women. Evelyn sat composed, but her eyes glinted with a quiet determination. Annabelle, on the other hand, tried to maintain a gracious smile, but the nervous glint in her eyes betrayed her discomfort.

"Why do you always have to pick on her?" Vincent’s voice cut through the silence, his disapproving scowl directed at Evelyn. His role as Annabelle’s self-appointed protector had never wavered. To him, Annabelle was the innocent victim, and Evelyn—his once-fiancée—was the source of all his troubles.

Evelyn didn’t bother to acknowledge him. She slowly placed her glass down on the table and stood, a hint of nonchalance in her movements. "Fine. I’m leaving then," she said, reaching for her purse. "Since the paparazzi you’ve undoubtedly hired have already snapped my photo here, I don’t see any reason to stay."

She shot a pointed glance at Annabelle, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. Annabelle’s face paled, panic flickering in her eyes.

"I-I’ll drink it!" Annabelle stammered, her voice shaky. Before Evelyn could step away, she bit her lip and pleaded, "Please don’t leave, Evy."

Vincent turned towards her, his brow furrowing in concern. "Anna, you don’t have to—"

"It’s just a drink, Vin," Annabelle interrupted softly, placing a gentle hand over his on the table. She forced a small smile as if trying to ease the growing tension. "Let’s not make a fuss over it."

Vincent exhaled sharply, glaring at Evelyn with barely concealed disdain. Ever since she had married Zevian, her attitude had only grown more imperious, and he couldn’t wait for the day when her husband would finally see through her facade and cast her aside.

The staff quickly exchanged the glasses, their nerves palpable as they tried to avoid any further mishaps. One of them, clearly rattled, excused herself and hurried out to message Sophia, fearing she’d lose her job over this.

Evelyn watched Annabelle lift the glass to her lips, her eyes narrowing. The tension between them didn’t dissipate as Annabelle took a cautious sip, but little did Evelyn know, she had just walked into another one of Annabelle’s cleverly disguised traps.

Annabelle hid her satisfaction behind a serene smile, her eyes shifting briefly towards the water jug on the table. She took another sip of her drink and then casually leaned towards Vincent, her voice brightening with feigned cheerfulness. "The food smells amazing," she said, her tone light and pleasant.

Vincent’s scowl softened at the sound of her voice, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Evelyn felt a scoff rising in her throat as she observed them—Vincent, utterly besotted by this manipulative con artist. It was pathetic how easily he fell for Annabelle’s charms, and even more ridiculous how oblivious he was to her true nature.

Dinner proceeded in a forced quiet, the clinking of utensils and the soft murmur of conversation the only sounds that filled the room. The air was thick with an awkward tension, a stark contrast to the elegant setting of the private dining room. The table was laden with finely prepared dishes, each one exuding tantalizing aromas, but Evelyn barely noticed. She was too caught up in watching Vincent play the fool, catering to Annabelle’s every whim as if she were some delicate flower in need of constant protection.

At last, Annabelle’s soft voice broke through the strained silence. "Evy," she began, her tone almost sweet. "Vin has something to speak with you." She glanced at Vincent, pressing her hand gently against his arm as if to encourage him. "I’ll excuse myself for a bit and give you two some privacy."

Evelyn wiped her mouth with a napkin, already bracing herself for whatever pitiful plea Vincent was about to make. It was amusing, really, how he had spent the entire evening glaring at her as if she were some villain, and now he was about to lower himself to begging.

Annabelle left the room with a polite nod, leaving Evelyn and Vincent alone in the dim light of the private room. Evelyn couldn’t help but notice the way Vincent fidgeted nervously in his seat, his hand clenching and unclenching around his glass as if trying to steady himself. The once-confident man looked almost anxious, gulping down an entire glass of water as if it would help him gather his courage.

"I won’t beat around the bush," Vincent started, his voice gruff as he set the empty glass down on the table. His fingers tightened around it for a moment before he forced himself to let go. "I don’t know what you told Mr. Reign about us, but whatever it was, he’s taking it out on our company."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing him to continue.

"Our stocks are plummeting, the board is furious, and Grandpa Edmund... he’s really anxious," Vincent added with a weary sigh, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Evelyn leaned back in her chair, her expression almost bored. "Why would Grandpa Edmund be anxious? I heard he’s planning to leave for a Buddhist retreat soon, ready to settle there permanently. Did he change his mind?"

Vincent froze, his eyes narrowing as he realized that the usual tactic of invoking his grandfather’s name wasn’t going to work on Evelyn this time. He knew that Edmund had planned to retreat from their affairs ever since Evelyn’s marriage, and if Zevian had spoken to him directly, there was no winning Evelyn over by appealing to family ties anymore.

Vincent gritted his teeth, trying to control his frustration. He couldn’t lose his composure now, not when everything was on the line. "If this continues, we’ll go bankrupt," he said through clenched teeth. "Please, Evelyn... help us."

Evelyn’s lips twitched into a small, cold smile. "Why should I?"

Vincent’s temper flared at her dismissive tone. "You should consider it for the years we were engaged. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?"

"Engaged?" Evelyn’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, you mean the business arrangement our families forced on us? Please, Vincent, you never acted like my fiancé anyway. If you’re going to use our engagement as a reason, at least try a better argument."

Vincent’s jaw clenched tightly, his face flushing with anger. "I may not have loved you, Evelyn, but I treated you with respect. I stood by you, even when the truth came out about you not being the real daughter of the Blakes. I stopped my family from breaking off the engagement, didn’t I? I took your side!"

Evelyn felt her patience wearing thin. The arrogance of this man, thinking that his half-hearted gestures of kindness somehow entitled him to her help now. "Let me remind you of a few things, Vincent," she said icily. "First, it was your grandfather who forced you to stay engaged to me, not you. Second, you never took my side, especially not when I needed it most. You stood on the sidelines and watched as everyone accused me of things I never did."

Vincent’s fists clenched under the table. "You were the one targeting Annabelle for petty reasons. I had to take the side of the innocent!"

Evelyn scoffed, utterly unimpressed. How could someone be so blind? So utterly fooled by a con artist who had spun a web of lies so expertly that Vincent couldn’t even see the truth in front of him? "If you’re so sure of Annabelle’s innocence," Evelyn said coolly, rising from her seat and reaching for her purse, "then why don’t you ask her and her father to help you out of this mess? I would rather watch you and your entire company fall apart than involve myself any further in your pathetic little games."

Vincent’s face contorted with anger, and his hand slammed down on the table with a loud bang. The room fell deathly silent, the sound reverberating through the tense atmosphere.

Evelyn turned to leave, but before stepping out, she glanced over her shoulder with one final parting shot. "And Vincent," she added coldly, "tell your mother that karma’s a bitch... just like her."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in her wake. Behind her, she could hear Vincent’s chair scrape against the floor as he stood, but she didn’t look back. She had no intention of wasting another moment on him.

Annabelle, who had been lurking in the corridor, quickly slipped back inside and rushed to Vincent’s side, offering him another glass of water. But Evelyn paid them no mind. She was done with both of them.

As she made her way towards the elevator, she couldn’t help but feel the heat rising in her body. She paused for a moment, pressing her fingers against her temples as a dull throbbing began to build behind her eyes. Everything around her felt slightly off, the air heavier, her vision a little blurry.

She stepped into the elevator and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. But something wasn’t right. A creeping suspicion began to gnaw at the edges of her thoughts, and her heart rate quickened. She pressed the button for the lobby and closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus.

Evelyn pressed the elevator button, her mind still reeling from the argument with Vincent. She needed to clear her head. As the doors slid open, she stepped inside, but an odd sensation began to creep over her. Her skin prickled with heat, her vision slightly blurring. She brushed it off, thinking it was just the stress. But when the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, everything felt wrong.

Before she could step out, she swayed on her feet. A woman suddenly appeared beside her, gripping her arm gently. "Careful," the woman said softly, her voice soothing as she steadied Evelyn. "Are you alright?"

Evelyn blinked, trying to focus on the woman’s face, but everything was beginning to haze. She felt the woman’s fingers subtly press a button on the elevator, and instead of exiting, the doors slid shut again.

"Who are you?" Evelyn managed to ask, her voice weak. She was burning up, her thoughts muddled. Her limbs felt too heavy to move. Panic gnawed at her chest.

The woman smiled kindly, keeping Evelyn upright. "Mr. Reign sent me. He’s booked a room for you here," she said, as if it were perfectly natural. "He’s waiting for you."

Evelyn, lost in the fog of the strange heat spreading through her body, nodded weakly. Zevian... she thought. Of course, he’d come for her. He must have sensed something was wrong!

The elevator doors opened again, and the woman led her down a dimly lit hallway. Evelyn’s legs felt unsteady, her mind swimming as she was guided into a private room. The warmth in her body was now overwhelming, and she could barely comprehend where she was.

As the woman helped her onto the bed, Evelyn sank into the soft mattress, her thoughts spinning. She barely registered the woman slipping away, leaving her alone. But outside the door, Annabelle leaned against the wall, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. She typed quickly on her phone, sending a message to the hotel staff.

’Send Vincent to Evelyn’s room now.’