Chapter 169: Deal Concluded! [FIXED!]

Priya climbed into her car and sat for a moment before starting the engine, letting the last hour actually sink in. That had gone well. Better than well, honestly.

She pulled out of the lot and immediately hit the button for her hands-free call, dialing one of her longtime furniture contacts as she merged onto the main road.

"Hey, it’s Priya," she said, phone propped on loudspeaker, eyes fixed on the road. "I’ve got a big one for you. Office buildout, four floors, high-end client. Need pricing on options fast."

The voice on the other end perked up immediately, and Priya spent the next few minutes rattling off details — square footage, the general aesthetic Liam had described, Darren’s suggestion about the lounge placement near the windows. She kept her tone confident, practiced, every bit the seasoned professional Liam assumed she was.

Truth was, this was her first time actually landing something like this.

Interior design had always been the thing she loved, the part of real estate that actually excited her, but she’d never had the formal credentials to compete with the established firms clients usually gravitated toward. She’d built her pitch on confidence and research instead, hoping nobody looked too closely at the gaps in her resume. Somehow, it had worked on Liam.

Don’t mess this up.

She merged lanes, mentally running numbers as she talked. This was the part that actually worried her — the quote. Underprice it and she’d be eating the difference herself just to maintain quality. Overprice it, and Liam might start shopping around, realize there were bigger firms with better portfolios he could go to instead.

She needed the sweet spot. Good materials, competitive pricing, something that looked effortless even though it absolutely wasn’t.

"Send me your catalog for the commercial line," she said into the phone, switching lanes carefully. "And be honest with me on bulk pricing, because I need this tight."

She hung up a few minutes later and immediately dialed a second contact, then a third, cross-referencing quotes in her head as she drove, already mentally drafting the proposal she’d promised Liam by tomorrow.

This has to be perfect.

Because if it wasn’t, this wouldn’t just cost her one client. It could cost her the entire career she was quietly trying to build for herself.

-

The rumbling started low, unmistakable, cutting straight through the quiet hum of the car.

"Bro," Liam said, glancing sideways. "Was that you?"

"That was me," Darren admitted, pressing a hand to his stomach. "My body’s basically starting its own uprising in there."

Keiza laughed from the back seat. "It’s been doing that on and off since we left the building. I’ve been ignoring it out of politeness."

"See, she gets it. She’s protecting my dignity."

"Barely," Keiza said.

Liam kept driving, heading toward a diner he’d passed a few times before — nothing flashy, checkered floors, a neon sign missing one letter. He parked without much thought, keeping in the back of his mind that his cash reserves, while still substantial, weren’t quite what they’d been a few days ago before the designer purchase. No reason to overspend on a casual meal when a solid diner would do just fine.

He also knew, without needing to think too hard about it, that Darren would cover his own tab, and Keiza’s too. That was just how things worked between them — Darren wasn’t the type to let another man foot the bill for his girl, and Keiza, refreshingly, wasn’t the type to expect otherwise.

They slid into a booth near the window, and a young waiter approached shortly after — couldn’t have been older than nineteen, but carried himself with a surprising amount of composure, taking their orders attentively.

"Y’all want drinks with that, or just food for now?" he asked, pen already moving.

"Food’s good for now, thanks man," Darren said, and the kid nodded before heading off.

"Kid’s got more manners than half the lawyers I used to work with," Liam said once he was gone.

"Low bar," Darren shot back.

Their food arrived a while later, and conversation drifted easily — the building, Priya’s furniture connections, Darren’s insistence that his lounge layout suggestion was objectively correct.

Then Liam, without thinking, opened his mouth. "Speaking of impressive, you should’ve seen this dude disarm—"

Darren’s head snapped up, glare sharp enough to cut through the table.

Too late.

"Disarm who?" Keiza asked immediately, setting her fork down.

"Uh—nobody. Forget I said anything."

"Liam."

"It’s nothing, really—"

"Disarm. Who."

Darren shot him a look that could’ve melted steel, and Liam suddenly remembered, with painful clarity, exactly why he wasn’t supposed to bring that up.

"You know what," Liam said quickly, grabbing his drink, "these fries are incredible. Life-changing, honestly."

"Don’t you dare change the subject—"

"So good," Liam continued, avoiding both their eyes entirely, while Darren buried his face in his hands, silently praying for the conversation to end.

The deflection worked, mostly because Keiza decided fries genuinely weren’t worth fighting over mid-meal. She shot Darren one more look — a promise that this conversation wasn’t over, just postponed — before letting her shoulders relax and turning her attention back to her plate.

Liam exhaled quietly, grateful for the reprieve. He liked Keiza, genuinely, but he wasn’t eager to be caught in the crossfire of whatever lecture Darren was about to receive later tonight.

They settled back into easier conversation, the three of them trading light jabs and stories, when Liam’s phone buzzed against the table.

He glanced down, expecting a notification from Priya or maybe Mateo. Instead, Rachel’s name lit up the screen.

He blinked, genuinely caught off guard.

Huh. Forgot she existed for a second there.

That realization alone said something. If his system had flagged any real shift in her emotional state — distress, a spike in attachment, anything worth his attention — it would have surfaced by now. The silence on that front told him everything he needed to know: whatever she wanted right now probably wasn’t urgent, and probably wasn’t complicated either.

Booty call. Has to be.

He let the call ring out, sliding the phone face-down onto the table without a second thought.

"You good?" Darren asked, noticing the brief distraction.

"Yeah, just someone I’ll call back later." Liam picked his fork back up, refocusing fully on the table in front of him. It felt disrespectful, honestly, to split his attention between his phone and the people who’d actually shown up for him today. Darren wouldn’t have cared either way — the man barely noticed when Liam checked his phone mid-conversation most days — but Liam held himself to it regardless. Presence mattered, especially with people who actually deserved it.

"Rachel could wait," Liam murmured under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

That’s when it happened.

[Ding!]

[Emotional Investment Alert!]

[Target: Rachel Kim (Low-Value MILF)]

[Status: Deteriorating Emotional Connection]

[Emotional Meter: 100%→49!]

Liam glanced at the notification flickering faintly in the corner of his vision, the same flat, clinical tone the system always used to deliver news like this. He waited for the familiar twinge of concern to hit.

It didn’t.

Rachel wasn’t his priority anymore, not really. She’d been a solid starting point months ago, sure, but between Mrs. Harriet’s tier and everything else building around him now, spending real energy chasing a fading connection with Rachel just didn’t make sense. No bonus multiplier attached to her, no urgency behind the investment. Just a low-tier relationship quietly cooling in the background while better opportunities demanded his focus.

He also noticed the system didn’t attach any rebate bonus to her like it did both Sophia and Mrs. Harriet.

"You sure you’re good?" Darren asked again, catching the brief stillness on Liam’s face.

"Yeah." Liam shook it off, offering a small, genuine smile. "Just thinking about something. Not important."

"Aight." Darren shrugged, already moving on, stealing a fry off Liam’s plate without asking.

"Hey—"

"Tax," Darren said simply, popping it into his mouth.

Keiza laughed, shaking her head at both of them, and the conversation rolled forward easily, Rachel’s unanswered call fading further into the background with every passing minute.

-

Rachel stared at the screen as the call rang out, no answer, straight to nothing. She set the phone down slowly, jaw tightening, a knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach that she couldn’t quite talk herself out of.

"He always picks up. Always."

Even during his busiest weeks, even when he was clearly slammed with work, Liam had never once let a call from her go unanswered without at least a text explaining why. This silence felt different. Deliberate.

Her mind raced immediately toward the worst possible explanation, looping back to the one thing she’d been dreading since that hallway encounter.

"Darren told him."

There was no other reason it made sense. Darren had seen her disheveled, reeking of alcohol, clearly not coming from her own bed, and men talked, especially men as close as Darren and Liam had become.

Of course he’d mentioned it. Of course Liam was distancing himself now, letting the silence speak for him instead of confronting her directly.

She pressed her palms against her eyes, breathing shakily.

"It wasn’t even anything. Nothing happened. Why does it matter—"

But it did matter, because perception was reality in relationships like this, and if Liam believed the worst without even asking her first, there’d be no explaining her way out of it now.

She picked the phone back up, thumb hovering uselessly over his name, unsure whether calling again would help or make everything worse.