The Ex-Wife They Begged To Keep - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Victor stormed out, slamming the door behind him. His chest burned with rage. He knew what his father was like. Albert's word was law.
But still, Victor just couldn't accept this. 'Why? Why does Dad always get to dictate my life? What gives him the right?' he wondered.
Two days later, Eliza sashayed to Victor's office in stiletto heels, her hips swaying seductively, and knocked on the door.
"Come in," Victor said.
The door opened gently, revealing Eliza in a deliberately chosen white dress that made her delicate skin glow.
"Ellie? What brings you here?" Victor's face instantly lit up with a smile when he saw Eliza. He rose from his seat and walked over to greet her.
"What's this? Am I not welcome?" Eliza shot him a playful look before settling onto the sofa.
"Why would you say that?" Victor sat down beside her, looking at her affectionately. "I'm just glad you're here."
"Vic, let's grab dinner after work tonight. There's somewhere special I'd like to take you," she suggested.
At Eliza's words, Victor was suddenly reminded of his father's insistence that he attend a matchmaking party with Regina—a thought that made a wave of irritation well up inside him.
"Ellie, I'm tied up tonight. Rain check?" he said.
Eliza's smile froze momentarily as a pang of disappointment flashed through her.
She had dressed to the nines, her heart brimming with excitement as she came to invite him out. She'd envisioned a romantic dinner where they could deepen their connection, only to be met with his flat-out rejection.
But Eliza quickly masked her disappointment, replacing it with a gentle smile. "Alright then, since you're busy, I'll get going."
That evening, the party hall was ablaze with light.
Victor stood listlessly in the corner, idly swirling his champagne and taking the occasional half-hearted sip.
With a stern expression, Albert strode over, gave his shoulder a hard pat, and yanked him out of the corner. "Follow me."
Victor followed his father with visible reluctance, his irritation simmering into full-blown resentment.
Albert led Victor to a distinguished, silver-haired gentleman whose vigorous demeanor belied his age, his face breaking into a practiced diplomatic smile.
Albert greeted warmly, "Mr. Aniston, it's been ages. You're looking as vigorous as ever."
"Albert, you're looking as sharp as ever. Come, let me introduce you. This is my granddaughter, Regina Aniston," said Edward Aniston.
Albert gently nudged Victor forward with an encouraging hand on his back. "This is my son, Victor," he introduced.
"Good evening, Mr. Aniston," Victor said politely as he approached the chairman of Aniston Group.
Edward's gaze slowly swept over Victor. With a slight nod, he stroked his graying beard, then nodded again in approval. Clearly, he was pleased with Victor.
He patted the hand of the young woman beside him and said, "Regina, come and say hello to Mr. Powell."
A young woman in a lilac evening gown glided forward, exuding grace and poise.
"Good evening, Mr. Powell," Regina greeted calmly. "I'm Regina Aniston, freshly returned from abroad."
"Regina's been studying abroad all these years. Now that she's finally back, I thought I'd bring her out to get some exposure and meet new people," Edward said warmly.
Albert nodded approvingly at Regina. She was the picture of poise and grace, her impeccable manners a testament to her privileged upbringing.
Albert then turned sharply to Victor, his tone brooking no argument. "What are you waiting for? Come greet Regina properly."
Victor straightened up a little, just enough to keep up appearances for the sake of the occasion. He gave Regina a perfunctory nod, mustering a barely-there smile. Offhandedly, he said, "Hey."
Victor casually averted his gaze, then, with deliberate nonchalance, brought the champagne flute to his lips and took a small, indifferent sip.
Regina's lashes lifted slightly as her gaze drifted over Victor with calculated subtlety. Her smile faded just a little, and with graceful poise, she said softly, "Mr. Powell, you certainly live up to your reputation."
Victor nodded half-heartedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Regina paid no mind to Victor's attitude. After all, to her, this party was merely a prelude to a business alliance.
She'd already heard all about Victor's past, and she knew perfectly well how much he resented this arranged marriage.
Midway through the party, Regina seized an opportunity and drew Victor aside for a private conversation.
She said calmly, "Mr. Powell, let's be frank. Neither of us has a choice in this marriage. After we're married, how about we each live our own lives and stay out of each other's business? What do you say?"
Victor stared at the woman before him—her composure was unnervingly absolute. His disgust for her only grew deeper.
"Ms. Aniston, you're overestimating yourself. Even if I had to enter a marriage of convenience, I'd never choose someone like you," Victor sneered.
"Mr. Powell, why bother with this lovesick performance? You divorced your ex-wife for Ms. Stone, didn't you? She dumped you before, and now she's back. Face it. She's just after your money. Do you really believe she loves you?" Regina mocked.
"My business is none of your concern. Stay out of it," Victor warned.
Regina coolly studied Victor before her. 'This lovesick act—who's he trying to fool?' she wondered. 'Victor, acting like he couldn't care less about this arranged marriage, yet he doesn't even dare defy his dad's demands.'
Regina shot Victor a look of cool disdain, then turned and glided away gracefully.
After the party, Victor finally made it home, only to find Eliza already waiting for him.
Eliza said softly, "Vic, you're back? You must be tired. I made you some soup to help with the hangover."
Victor tossed his keys onto the entryway console, then wearily undid the second button of his dress shirt.
The faint but unmistakable scent of alcohol clung to him. Clearly, he'd had one too many at the party.
"Let me take that," Eliza said softly, gently relieving Victor of his coat before bringing over a bowl of soup. "Vic, drink some soup. It'll help with the hangover," she said gently. "Vic, drink some soup. It'll help with the hangover," she said gently.
Victor took the bowl, lowered his head to take a sip, but his brow remained furrowed. Then, he set the bowl down gently on the table and raised a hand to rub his temples.
Eliza noticed something was off with him and inquired tentatively. "Something bothering you? That party must have been exhausting, wasn't it?"
Victor slumped onto the sofa and muttered, "It's nothing. Just had a few drinks—got a bit of a headache, that's all."
"Let me get you a warm towel to freshen up." Eliza rose and hurried to the bathroom. She grabbed a clean towel and ran it under warm water.
Returning to the living room, Eliza bent down beside Victor and gently draped the warm towel over his forehead.
With gentle motions, she pressed and slowly wiped his forehead, her hand tracing the contours of his face as it glided down to his cheek.
Eliza's gaze lingered on Victor's slightly open collar, as the towel in her hand drifted downward with deliberate slowness.
The warm cloth brushed gently over his Adam's apple, then glided down the curve of his neck to the hollow of his collarbone.
Victor involuntarily tilted his head slightly away as his Adam's apple bobbed.
The towel traced his collarbone, then lingered suggestively over his chest.
Victor intercepted Eliza's hand mid-air, halting its descent. He met her gaze briefly before deliberately averting his eyes. "Ellie, you should get some rest. Don't worry about me."
"Alright, don't overthink it. Go to bed early," Eliza smiled.
Victor watched her retreating figure, pinched the bridge of his nose, then let his head fall back against the sofa with a sigh.
The cold glow of neon lights filtered through the window, casting a pale glow across Victor's face. He let out a bitter chuckle and raked a frustrated hand through his hair, a suffocating weight pressing in his chest.