Chapter 215

Ethan Carter had no patience for the romantic entanglements of the younger generation. He got straight to the point. "Just treat her right. No more drama. After the wine tasting, introduce your girlfriend to Mom and Dad."

With an apologetic smile to the group, Ethan excused himself to attend to his social obligations.

Violet Carter couldn’t make a scene with Mason Hunter in public, so she reluctantly let him lead her to their table.

An uneasy silence settled over the group—not because they were particularly reserved, but because they were all too eager to witness the brewing storm. Nearby, the three Blackwood siblings lingered by the bar, ears perked for any juicy details.

Mason guided Violet into her seat, and for a moment, neither spoke, as if giving the whirlwind of emotions a chance to settle.

But Violet was already restless. Being near Mason in his current state made her skin crawl.

"Let go of me," she muttered, pulling her wrist free. "I’m still working."

Mason’s temper flared instantly. "Are you deliberately trying to provoke me? There’s a limit to how much attitude I’ll tolerate."

Hopeless.

Nathan Blackwood and his siblings shared the same thought.

Richard and Margaret, too far to hear the conversation but sensing the tension, exchanged glances. What? Who’s hopeless?

Violet turned sharply to Mason, locking eyes with him. "I signed a contract with your sister-in-law for two hundred thousand. I have to prep for today’s event and do the makeup. I don’t have time to sit here drinking and chatting."

Mason wasn’t foolish enough to ask if it was a scam again.

"Did you know who I was before this?" Mason asked, genuinely perplexed. The situation was too tangled—he needed clarity.

"I did," Violet replied with a cold smirk. "Your beloved sister-in-law hired me to work on the day of your class reunion. I saw you there, Mr. Hunter."

Mason missed the sarcasm lacing her words. Instead, he was stunned. "Then why didn’t you confront me? Why ask me for money instead?"

Violet let out a bitter laugh. "I didn’t want to owe you anything before we settled things between us. But I had no choice. I thought even if you were lying to me, you still cared enough to help when I was desperate. But you didn’t."

Mason paled. The memory of rejecting her—the look on her face—choked him. He hadn’t meant for it to happen. There had been nothing when he checked.

"It was a misunderstanding," he said quickly. "I’ll give you the money now. You don’t have to work anymore."

But Violet was already standing. "Too late."

The words hung between them, sharp as a blade.

And with that, she walked away.

The air between them grew thick with tension as Violet Carter finally spoke the words she'd been holding back. "It's too late. I've already received my payment, and I've saved enough money. I don't need your help anymore, Mason. I don't need you."

Mason Hunter froze, his expression darkening. "What the hell are you saying?"

"You asked why I didn't confront you sooner?" Violet's voice was steady, though her fingers trembled slightly. "I was waiting for you to come clean. That was the last chance I was giving you."

Last chance? The confession he'd planned for her birthday—now it meant nothing.

"What do you mean, last chance?" Mason's voice cracked, his composure unraveling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I wanted to do this privately," Violet continued, her gaze unwavering. "But since the man I thought I was dating never really existed, it's like I was never in love at all. So, Mr. Hunter, stop pretending you're my boyfriend. You never were."

The words hit Mason like a physical blow. His chest tightened, a storm of disbelief and anger brewing beneath the surface.

"What do you mean I don’t exist? I’m right here! Shouldn’t you be—"

"You can't seriously believe that after two years of lying to me—pretending to be broke when you're filthy rich—I'd just celebrate the truth?" Violet's laugh was sharp, bitter. "Did you think I'd throw myself into your arms and thank you?"

Mason's face paled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. His voice dropped to a near whisper, rough with emotion. "I just wanted you to have a better life."

"Mr. Hunter, I do want love. But not the kind you're offering—not built on lies." She straightened, her resolve hardening. "And I will have a better life. Just not with you. So consider this goodbye. Don’t contact me again."

With that, she reached into her bag and pulled out a delicate silver bracelet—one Mason had given her months ago. She set it down on the table between them with deliberate finality. "I don’t deserve this. It’s yours."

The moment the bracelet touched the surface, Beatrice Holloway—Deborah—gasped, recognition flashing in her eyes. "Is that—?"

Lucas Thornton, standing beside her, quickly gripped her arm, silencing her. He knew exactly what that bracelet was—a prize, something Deborah had designed for a high-profile auction.

Lucas shot Mason a disbelieving look. You treated her like a trophy, and now you're acting heartbroken?

Just as Violet turned to leave, a commotion erupted from the staircase. A panicked voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd.

"Someone stole Claire’s necklace! Where’s the makeup artist? She hasn’t left, has she?"