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Chapter_25
Abigail let out a derisive laugh, her gaze locking onto Ellis with piercing intensity. “Ellis, do you really think I have nothing better to do than squabble with Getty over a commercial?” A chill ran down Ellis’ spine as he realized this wasn’t just a simple disagreement—it was a matter of pride.
The atmosphere in the room shifted, and the change in how the others perceived Getty was palpable. The weight of their judgment hit Getty, and her fury erupted. She stood up, pointing a trembling finger at Abigail. “Are you out of your mind? Is Quinn your mother or something? Why are you defending her like this? What do you gain by targeting me?”
Abigail’s response was sharp and biting. “Because I choose to! If her own husband won’t stand by her, who will? You think everyone’s like you, chasing after any man, shamelessly flirting with another woman’s husband and flaunting it in front of his wife? Quinn deserves respect.”
“You—” Getty’s rage intensified, and she charged at Abigail as if to strike her.
Before the situation could escalate further, several people rushed in, restraining both women and preventing an outright confrontation.
At that moment, someone in the room announced, “Alexander is here!”
The room fell silent, the tension thickening as all eyes turned toward the entrance. Alexander stood there, hands in his pockets, his sharp suit and indifferent expression signaling his aloofness toward the drama unfolding before him. He surveyed the room, his gaze briefly flicking over Getty and Abigail before finally landing on Quinn, who lowered her eyes, nervous under his scrutiny.
Getty, seeing an opportunity, limped toward Alexander, putting on a pleading expression. “Alexander, you finally made it. Abigail’s been picking on me!” she whined, seeking sympathy.
Abigail, disgusted by Getty’s theatrics, rolled her eyes. “Spare me the act, Getty. It’s embarrassing.”
Ellis, regaining his composure, stepped forward, trying to maintain a sense of professionalism. “Alexander, what brings you here? Please, come in.”
Alexander waved off the formalities with a dismissive gesture. “So, no decision yet?”
Ellis hesitated before explaining, “No, Abigail refuses to budge, and—”
Before he could finish, Alexander cut him off with a cold glance. “You all did well with the project. I’m in for two hundred million. If the Vanderbilts are interested, have Oliver contact me.”
His words were directed at Ellis, but they were clearly meant for Abigail, whose expression faltered.
Ellis, visibly confused, asked, “What do you mean by that, Alexander?”
Alexander’s face remained impassive as he answered Abigail directly. “Exactly what I said. You’re out of your league trying to negotiate with me.”
Abigail, caught between anger and incredulity, retorted, “Alexander, your wife is right here. If you don’t care about her feelings, just get a divorce.”
Alexander’s expression darkened, and his voice turned icy. “Who are you to her?” The chill in his words made the room tense.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Abigail shot back, her voice rising. “At least I don’t stand by and let her be humiliated in front of others like some disposable object!”
Alexander’s response was cold and calculated. “Is meddling in other people’s family affairs how the Vanderbilts are raised? If you really wanted to protect her, you wouldn’t have brought her here. Do you think your antics here change anything?”
Abigail was left speechless, her anger turning to a hollow realization. She knew Alexander’s disregard for Quinn was profound, and her attempts to defend her only seemed to amplify her helplessness. Instead of helping Quinn, she had turned her into a spectacle.
As Alexander’s words hung in the air, Abigail felt a sharp pang of guilt. Perhaps she had overestimated Quinn’s importance to him. With a bitter sigh, she conceded, “Indeed, I had overestimated her importance to you. That’s my mistake.”
Just then, Oliver burst into the room, breathless, as though he had sprinted the entire way. He strode directly to Abigail, trying to pull her away from the escalating situation. “Abigail, enough with the drama. Let’s go back,” he urged, grasping her hand.
Abigail resisted, simmering with frustration. Her emotions, tightly bottled up, had no outlet. She glanced at Quinn, her gaze hard. “Quinn, come here,” Alexander suddenly commanded.
Abigail’s eyes flashed with a warning, and she quickly shot Quinn a glare. “Don’t go over there.”
Quinn, caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty, hesitated, her gaze flickering between Alexander’s cold demeanor and Abigail’s pleading stare. She took a tentative step forward.
But before she could go any further, Abigail yanked her back, her voice sharp. “Everything’s out in the open now. Why go to him? Let Alexander decide today. He should either file for divorce or break it off with that woman. Everyone’s watching—it’s time to show some backbone, isn’t it?”
