He Played Poor for 99 Rounds, I Won on the Last One Chapter 03

He Played Poor for 99 Rounds, I Won on the Last One Chapter 03

The moment Alaric Thorne’s name left her mouth, the entire room stilled.

Everyone here knew exactly who he was.

A global venture capitalist whose portfolio had never failed. Every industry he touched turned into profit.

His influence stretched across continents; even the country’s top billionaire couldn’t rival the scale of his reach.

That was why this summit mattered.

People weren’t here for networking. They were here for him.

In my arms, Elliot clung tighter, his small fingers gripping my collar as he buried his face against my neck. His voice was soft, shaky, but determined.

“She’s my mom,” he said, pointing at me. “My mom. You’re the bad one.”

Vanessa scoffed, dismissing him without a second thought.

Children lied. Or so she believed.

She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Elliot now, calculation sharpening her features. If she could tie herself to Alaric Thorne in any way, the return would be immeasurable.

And this opportunity had just fallen into her hands.

“Celia,” she said, her voice turning cold, almost vicious, “hand the child over.”

Her smile stretched thin.

“You think kidnapping him will get you anything? You won’t see a dime. You’ll just end up in prison.”

The shift was immediate.

People moved. Hands reached toward me.

Elliot started crying again, frightened by the sudden chaos. I tightened my hold on him, instinctively turning my body to shield him as I tried to push through.

“He’s my son,” I said, my voice steady despite the tension. “Stay back. We’re leaving.”

But Vanessa stepped directly into my path, blocking me.

Her expression twisted, disbelief bleeding into contempt.

“Your son?” she snapped. “What, are you going to tell me Alaric Thorne is your husband too?”

“Look at yourself. At least make your lies believable.”

She pulled out her phone, already dialing.

“Say one more word and I’m calling 911.”

I didn’t even hesitate.

“Go ahead,” I said evenly. “He is my husband. Call the police. Let’s see who they take away.”

The room went quiet for half a second.

Then the laughter came, louder than before.

“She’s lost it,” someone muttered. “First she’s the Viremont heiress, now she’s Mrs. Thorne? That’s not confidence—that’s delusion.”

“Call it,” another said. “Let’s see how long she keeps this up when law enforcement gets here.”

Vanessa smirked, thumb hovering over the screen, ready to press.

Before she could, Dorian stepped in and caught her wrist, taking the phone from her hand.

“Enough,” he said, something conflicted flickering in his eyes.

“Let it go, Celia. We were together once. I don’t want to take this too far.”

“Leave now,” he added. “Before this turns into something worse.”

“I’ll give you money. Name your price.”

For a second, I almost laughed.

Even now, he thought everything came down to money.

Back then, I had hidden my identity just to live a normal life. When I discovered he had been pretending to be poor, manipulating everything from behind the scenes, I had walked away without hesitation.

His so-called wealth had never meant anything to me.

Compared to what I came from, it never could.

And yet, even now, he was afraid I might want it.

Pathetic.

Vanessa’s expression darkened instantly.

She didn’t like the way he was protecting me.

“Right,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “You should give her something, Dorian. Isn’t that why she left you in the first place?”

Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp and deliberate.

“Chasing money. Running off overseas with some rich foreigner the moment she got the chance.”

A soft laugh.

“And now look at her. Dumped, broke, and still pretending she belongs here. You’re the only one kind enough to even acknowledge her.”

Dorian’s hand tightened around the phone.

The implication was obvious.

Anyone who gave me money now would look like a fool—a man picking up someone else’s mess.

I hadn’t expected that.

I also hadn’t expected the rumors.

Apparently, my time abroad had been rewritten into something absurd.

But rumors had never bothered me.

Not when I knew exactly who I was. Not when I knew exactly who stood beside me.

So I smiled.

“Vanessa,” I said lightly, “you really think no one knows what you were doing back then?”

“Taking money from one man while living with another. Keeping Dorian on the hook while you worked your way through every wealthy heir you could find.”

I tilted my head slightly.

“You’re good at it, I’ll give you that. Stringing men along, making them think they’re the exception.”

“He’s been played for years and still doesn’t see it.”

Vanessa’s composure shattered.

“That’s not true,” she snapped, her voice rising. “You’re lying.”

“I’ve only ever loved Dorian. Don’t try to twist things just because you’re bitter.”

She turned to him, her tone softening instantly.

“Don’t listen to her. You know what kind of person she is.”

Dorian stepped forward, his expression hardening again.

“Celia,” he said coldly, “watch what you say.”

“Vanessa isn’t like you. She loves me for who I am.”

“She took out an eight-million loan for me before she even knew my background.”

I let out a quiet laugh.

“Dorian,” I said, meeting his eyes, “you really are that naïve.”

“She knew exactly who you were. That’s why she got close to you in the first place.”

“Why don’t you go ask around? Look at the list of men she’s dated.”

A faint smile.

“Tell me—how many of them weren’t trust-fund heirs?”

“And you think you’re special?”