After returning, Barrington had someone look into it.
But with shareholders taking turns attacking him all afternoon, he hadn’t had time to go after Vionnet yet.
But at the end of the day, time was on his side–she showed up in front of him herself.
Vionnet was trembling all over. When she looked up at the man she tried to claim back, tears spilled uncontrollably from her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Barry. I was wrong… But it’s only because I love you so much.”
She sobbed. “Please, just give me one more chance. Xanthe is gone now. Let me take care of you from now on, okay?”
Wiping her tears, she steadied her voice and looked at him solemnly. “We can get married, have children, and build a life together. I promise–once we’re married, I’ll be the wife you want me to be.”
But Barrington’s lips curled into a faint smirk. His voice was laced with scorn.
“My wife? You think you deserve to be my wife?
“Vionnet, I’m only letting you off this time for the sake of our past. But that child you’re carrying? Get rid of it. From this day forward, don’t show your face in Springfield or in Chicago again. You hear me?
“If I ever see you again, I won’t show mercy–old grudges and new ones, I’ll settle them all.” The icy gleam in his eyes was like a blade. Vionnet couldn’t bring herself to see that; she collapsed to the floor, her voice horse with disbelief.
“You’re heartless. You’re heartless, Barrington!” she wailed.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he motioned for his assistant to come in and drag her away.
The next morning, Barrington was woken by a call.
“P–President Connolly. Something’s happened. Ma’am Vionnet escaped while I was escorting her out of the city,” his assistant reported.
He rubbed his forehead, frowning. “Then let her go. She’s not worth the trouble. Check Xanthe’s schedule instead.”
There was a long pause on the other end before the assistant finally said, “President Connolly, the entire Chicago already knows–the Wentworths and Michelsons are forming an alliance through marriage. No matter how hard you try, it won’t change anything, sir. And the board is getting increasingly unhappy about you staying here. Maybe it’s time to- “Everyone in Chicago knows? I don’t care,” Barrington cut him off coldly. “Back then, the whole of Springfield also knew Xanthe loved me.”
“You’re just an assistant. Don’t overstep,” he warned.
The assistant didn’t dare say another word and quietly ended the call.
The night before the wedding of the city, Trevor brought Xanthe to an auction, planning to
1/2 16.2%
give her a prenup gift.
The venue sparkled under dazzling lights, bright as day.
People came and went, all pausing to greet them respectfully when they saw them.
“President Michelson.”
“President Wentworth.”
Trevor led her to a private rooftop suite, but just as they were about to head up, Barrington appeared, blocking their path.
“What a coincidence. We met again, Xanthe. Don’t you think this is fate?”
Xanthe’s eyes darkened. In just a few days, no matter where she went, Barrington managed to show up.
The first time could’ve been coincidence–but after this many times, it was clearly deliberate.
“Are you some kind of parasite, Mr. Connolly? Following me around every day–don’t you think that’s pathetic? You stalking me and chasing after me like this is honestly just embarrassing.”
Barrington stiffened. The words hit a nerve–they sounded familiar.
Back then, when she used to chase him relentlessly, he had said almost the same thing.
“Xanthe, I like Vionnet. You chasing after me every day just makes me look down on you
more.”
Now, the tables had turned. She was throwing those words right back at him.
But Barrington didn’t show the slightest hint of embarrassment. Instead, he smiled.
“Back then, you chased after me. Now it’s my turn,” he said. “I believe that one day, I’ll win you back. I’ll wait.”
Xanthe frowned deeply. “You’re insane.”
Trevor, seizing the opportunity to assert his claim, pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist, his voice mocking.
“Dude, who would’ve thought you’d sink so low–chasing after someone else’s fiancée? Real impressive.” He smirked. “But Xanthe and I have something real–no third wheel like you is going to come between us.”
With a cold, disdainful snort, he tightened his hold on Xanthe and led her upstairs.
Barrington tried to follow, but a staff member blocked his way.
“Excuse me, sir. Access to the rooftop suites requires proof of assets.”
Barrington’s face darkened. “You think I can’t afford it?”
The staff remained polite but firm.
“Our VIP guests all have assets in the trillions, sir. We just need to verify that you meet the requirement.”
