He Played Poor for 99 Rounds, I Won on the Last One Chapter 02

He Played Poor for 99 Rounds, I Won on the Last One Chapter 02

The staff stopped holding back.

Hands reached for me, already treating me like someone who didn’t belong. I twisted free, my voice cutting through the noise.

“Let go. Don’t touch me.”

My gaze swept across them, steady and cold.

“I’m here on behalf of Victor Viremont. I’m his daughter.”

For a split second, there was silence.

Then laughter erupted.

Vanessa covered her mouth, smiling like she’d just heard the best joke of the night.

“The Viremont heiress?” she said sweetly, her tone dripping with mockery. “She graduated from Westbridge University and practically took over Viremont Holdings within two years of returning.”

Her eyes slid over me again, slow and dismissive.

“The only thing you have in common with her is the last name. And you think you can impersonate her while babysitting for someone else? That’s honestly embarrassing.”

She tilted her head, as if granting me mercy.

“But since we’re technically alumni, I suppose when Dorian and I have children, we could hire you. You seem… qualified.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“That assumes you can actually have one,” I shot back, my voice flat. “And tell me—what exactly is your career? Managing a man’s attention span?”

Her smile froze.

For a second, something ugly flickered across her face.

She had been desperate to secure her place beside Dorian, desperate enough to try for his child more than once.

Too many failed pregnancies had left her scrambling for solutions, clinging to treatments that never worked.

And I had just said it out loud.

Vanessa’s composure cracked.

“Are you deaf?” she snapped at the staff, her voice rising. “Get her out. Now.”

That was all it took.

They surged forward again, grabbing my arm, pulling hard this time. No more hesitation.

Elliot startled in my arms, his small body tensing before he burst into tears.

My chest tightened.

I wrenched myself free with force, shielding him instinctively.

“I said I’ll leave,” I snapped. “Don’t touch my son.”

The word hung in the air.

Son.

Dorian’s expression changed instantly.

“What did you just say?” he demanded, disbelief flashing across his face. “That’s your son?”

I met his gaze without flinching.

“Yes. He is.”

“You got married?” His voice dropped, sharp with something raw and unsteady. “No. That’s not possible. You wouldn’t just move on from me.”

I frowned, genuinely baffled.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I said. “We broke up years ago.”

But he wasn’t listening.

His eyes had already dropped to my wrist.

I followed his gaze.

In the scuffle, my sleeve had been pushed up, exposing the bracelet beneath.

Recognition lit his face instantly—followed by a smug, almost triumphant smile.

“Still wearing it,” he said softly, like he’d just proven something important. “I knew it. You never got over me.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“That butterfly bracelet? I gave that to you.”

His smile deepened.

“Stop pretending. If you tell me the truth now—if you admit you still want me—I might consider giving you another chance.”

For a second, I just stared at him.

Then I laughed.

The one he gave me was just some cheap silver, it rusted out of existence years ago. This was custom-made by my husband—because he actually knows what I love.

“Take a good look,” I said, lifting my wrist slightly. “Which part of this looks like something you could afford?”

“This was made for me by my husband.”

“Has nothing to do with you.”

The diamonds caught the light, sharp and brilliant—impossible to ignore.

Vanessa moved faster.

She reached out and yanked it off my wrist before anyone could react.

The motion was sudden, aggressive.

“Celia,” she said, her smile twisting into something cruel, “how exactly did you get something like this?”

She held it up, examining it with exaggerated suspicion.

“Everyone here is wealthy. If something this expensive goes missing, it won’t go unnoticed.”

“You didn’t steal it from someone, did you?”

“If you’re struggling, you could’ve just said so. After the banquet, there’ll be catered leftovers. You can take some home.”

“Stealing, though? That kind of behavior rubs off. Kids raised like that don’t turn out well.”

“Sooner or later, someone’s going to teach him a lesson.”

Something inside me snapped.

“Watch your mouth,” I said, my voice rising, sharp enough to cut. “You don’t get to talk about my child like that.”

For a moment, she looked ready to fire back.

Then her eyes flicked to Elliot again.

Really looked this time.

And something in her expression changed.

Recognition.

Shock.

Her grip tightened on the bracelet as she stared at him.

“…That child,” she said slowly, her voice trembling with sudden realization. “That’s Alaric Thorne’s son.”

Her head snapped back toward me, eyes wide.

“Celia—what is he doing with you?”

“Did you kidnap him?”