Chapter 286: A Chance To Salvage The Situation

Chapter 286: Chapter 286: A Chance To Salvage The Situation

The sound of soft jazz playing over the Meridian Crown’s audio system felt entirely out of place against the suffocating, ice-cold terror that had gripped VIP Booth Four.

For a full ten seconds, no one dared to breathe.

Liv’s face cycled through shades of chalky white and blotchy, burning crimson. Her lower lip trembled as her brain frantically tried to process the catastrophic reality crashing down around her. The girl she had patronized outside the campus gates, mocked for walking to lunch, and ridiculed for allegedly wearing fake high fashion was the sister of the undisputed titan who now held total economic dominion over Veyra.

"A-Aliya..." Liv stammered, her voice cracking into a high-pitched, pathetic squeak as she forced a grotesque, trembling smile. "I... we were just joking! You know how high school reunions are, right? Everyone likes to tease and blow things out of proportion! We didn’t mean any of it..."

Fancy let out a cold, sharp laugh that cut through the silence like a scalpel.

"Tease?" Fancy echoed, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward. "Right. Swearing up and down that we were wearing knockoffs, telling everyone we’d embarrass the group, and mocking us for walking while you flexed your precious little BMW crossover... that’s quite the hilarious joke, Liv."

Liv flinched as if she had been physically slapped, shrinking back into the leather seating.

Alan’s hands were shaking so violently he had to place his wine glass back onto the obsidian table to keep it from shattering. Panic—cold, unadulterated panic—flooded his chest. His family’s import business depended entirely on sub-tier logistics contracts tied to Golden Investments subsidiaries. If Jake Rivers caught wind that his younger sister had been humiliated and insulted at a table booked under Alan’s name, the Mcfree family enterprise would be liquidated and wiped off the Veyra stock exchange before the sun rose on Monday.

The realization snapped whatever fragile composure Alan had left. He whipped his head around, glaring murderously at Liv.

"Shut your damn mouth, Liv!" Alan snarled, his voice pitched in blind fury. "This is entirely your fault! You’re the one who kept pushing the narrative, running your mouth about her clothes and her background!"

Liv gasped, her eyes widening in betrayal. "My fault?! You’re the one who sat there acting like a high-society king, taking credit for reservations you didn’t even make! You agreed with every single word!"

"Both of you shut up," Natasha hissed in a terrified whisper, her hands clamped over her mouth as tears of pure mortification welled in her eyes. "Do you want to get us all blacklisted from every corporate circle in the city?!"

Breaking the tense, panicked quiet, Phoebe started forward, her voice trembling slightly as she wrung her hands in deep remorse. "Aliya... Fancy..." Phoebe began, looking down at the polished floor. "I... I just want to apologize. For all of it. We completely misunderstood everything, and I am so sorry for how we acted tonight."

Aliya merely gave a light, indifferent wave of her hand. "Save it, Phoebe," Aliya said mildly. "It’s past."

Seeing the frantic finger-pointing and sudden groveling erupting among the group, Brandon shook his head in quiet disgust, turning his attention away from them as if looking at garbage. He casually picked up a glass of water, leaning comfortably toward Aliya. "So, Aliya, how’s your semester been going outside of dealing with... well, this?"

Aliya offered a warm, genuine smile to Brandon, completely bypassing the panicking wrecks beside her. "It’s been great, Brandon. Much better now that the weather’s clearing up."

Sensing an immediate lifeline, Sky, Natasha, and the other male classmates desperately pivoted, scrambling to suck up to Brandon with sickening speed.

"B-Brandon, old buddy!" one of the male classmates stammered, forcing a wide, sweat-soaked grin as he slid closer. "You... you must have known all along, right? Man, you always were so close with everyone back in school! You’re such a great guy..."

Brandon turned his head slowly, looking at the classmate with a cold, unblinking stare. "We haven’t spoken since graduation, mate. Don’t ’old buddy’ me now just because you’re too cowardly to look Aliya in the eye."

The classmate swallowed hard, shrinking back into his seat in total humiliation.

Before anyone else could speak, the sharp, shrill ringtone of Alan’s phone pierced the heavy air of the booth.

Alan jumped slightly, frantically pulling his phone from his pocket. The screen flashed with an international caller ID. He stared at it for a fraction of a second, and a sudden, desperate wave of hope washed over his pale, sweat-soaked face. It was Luke Barnett—the very friend he and Phoebe had flown back to Veyra with from abroad.

Luke! Alan’s mind raced with desperate calculation. Luke’s family background and international connections command serious weight. If I bring him into the fold, maybe—just maybe—I can salvage this nightmare and shift the power dynamic back in my favor!

Alan swiped to answer, forcing a bright, trembling eagerness into his voice. "Luke! My man, where are you?!"

"Alan, mate," Luke’s smooth, cultured voice came through the speaker, carrying a hint of exhaustion. "Terrible news. That flight rescheduling threw off our entire schedule, and my luggage got delayed at customs. But I just landed in the city and had the driver drop me off. I’m standing right outside the Meridian Crown entrance now."

Alan’s eyes lit up like a man staring at a lighthouse in the middle of a hurricane. "Brilliant! Listen, don’t go through the front desk hassle. Just tell the head valet manager that you’re joining Alan Mcfree’s reunion party in Booth Four, and they’ll escort you straight up!"

"Will do, see you in two minutes," Luke replied before hanging up.

Alan lowered the phone, his chest puffing out with a desperate surge of renewed confidence. He cleared his throat, looking around the table at his stunned classmates.

"Ah... sorry about that, everyone," Alan announced, offering a tight, anxious smile as he tried to regain a shred of dignity. "That was a good friend of mine from our university abroad, Luke Barnett. His travel plans got completely derailed tonight, and since he doesn’t really know anyone else here in Aurelia yet, I couldn’t just leave him hanging. I invited him to join our table."

The rest of the group exchanged quick, quiet glances. Given the sheer, suffocating terror they were currently drowning in regarding Aliya, none of them dared to object. One of the male students nearby chimed in nervously, offering a weak smile. "Ah, well... it’s not a big deal, right? Alan’s friend is our friend, after all..." Most of them secretly welcomed the distraction, hoping a fresh face might help diffuse the atomic-level awkwardness choking the booth.

Less than three minutes later, the private elevator chimed softly.

Luke Barnett walked out into the pavilion. Dressed in an impeccably tailored Italian three-piece suit with a silk pocket square, Luke carried himself with the effortless, global-class poise of someone born into immense international wealth.

"Luke! Over here, my friend!" Alan called out, standing up quickly and rushing a few steps forward to greet him with a warm, theatrical handshake. "Glad you made it! Come, sit right here next to me."

Luke offered a polite, charming smile as he stepped into the booth. He nodded gracefully toward Phoebe. "Good evening, Phoebe. Great to see you again." Then, his dark eyes swept across the rest of the table, landing briefly on Liv and Natasha. "And hello to everyone else. Apologies for crashing the reunion at the last minute."

Liv’s eyes instantly locked onto Luke, her expression shifting in a matter of milliseconds. Strikingly handsome, impeccably dressed, and radiating the unmistakable aura of foreign old money, Luke was everything Liv wished Alan pretended to be. Without missing a beat, Liv’s posture straightened, a sultry, inviting smile curving her lips as she immediately leaned forward, her eyes fluttering seductively. "Welcome to our table, Luke! We’ve been having such a wonderful evening, and it’s so thrilling to have you join us."

Aliya watched the sudden, brazen display of social climbing with a quiet, lingering look of absolute disappointment, shaking her head internally at how effortlessly Liv would wag her tail for anyone holding a higher status.

Alan, entirely oblivious to Liv’s sudden flirtatious pivot, cleared his throat to regain the spotlight. He gestured grandly toward Aliya and Fancy, eager to establish his role as the master of ceremonies.

"Ah, Luke, let me introduce you," Alan said, puffing his chest out with a slight, returning hint of his former arrogance. He pointed a finger toward Aliya. "This is Aliya Rivers. She’s... well, she’s the younger sister of Jake Rivers. You know, the man heading Golden Investments. Her brother is practically a market monarch around here, probably worth around forty billion USD..."

Alan paused, drawing in a breath to transition smoothly into introducing Luke’s immensely powerful family background to completely overshadow Aliya’s presence.

He never got the chance.

The moment the name Jake Rivers left Alan’s lips, Luke’s polite, calm expression evaporated. His eyes widened into dinner plates, his jaw dropped, and he completely ignored Alan, spinning sharply on his heel to face Aliya directly.

"Wait... Jake Rivers’ sister?!" Luke blurted out, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated disbelief and sudden, frantic excitement as he practically dove toward Aliya’s side of the table.

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