Chapter 186 Just Stand Back and Watch Me

Chapter 186: Chapter 186 Just Stand Back and Watch Me

The restaurant hall remained frozen in absolute silence.

​Veyra’s sharp words seemed to hang heavily in the air like a sting to the face. Even if your father becomes president in the future, that still does not give you the right to cut in line.

​Naya Whitmore stood frozen in front of her, staring back with her mouth slightly open and her dark eyes wide with shock.

​In her entire life of privilege, no one had ever dared to address her in such an unyielding manner. No one had ever openly called out her entitlement, and certainly no commoner had ever refused to back down in a public space.

​Her deep sense of superiority, the foundation she had built her identity on since childhood, had just been completely shattered in front of dozens of strangers.

​"You," Naya stammered, her voice trembling with intense anger. "Do you actually believe you can stand there and talk to me like that?"

​Veyra met her gaze directly without hesitation. "I just did."

​Naya’s delicate face twisted into a mask of rage, her manicured hands curling into tight fists at her sides.

​"You are only standing here acting brave because you happen to be carrying Dorian’s child right now," Naya spat, her tone sharp and spiteful. "Do you think that little pregnancy makes you untouchable? Do you think it shields you from the real world?"

​Veyra kept her composure, keeping her expression calm and unbothered.

​"Once that child is born and out of the way, you will be nothing," Naya pushed on, trying to break her confidence. "You will just be another temporary woman he signed a contract with for convenience. You are nothing more than extra baggage."

​Veyra’s voice remained soft yet firm. "Is that really the story you tell yourself to feel better at night?"

​"It is the absolute reality of high society!" Naya snapped.

​"Then it is clear you do not know Dorian at all.”

​Naya’s jaw tightened painfully at the comment.

​Veyra took a small, confident step forward, her voice remaining steady and clear.

​"You have spent years chasing after him, waiting around for his attention, and trying to plan your entire future around his life," Veyra pointed out evenly. "Yet, despite all your efforts, he never once chose you. He never wanted to build a life with you."

​Naya’s eyes blazed with fury. "He did want me! We were on the verge of setting a date until an outsider like you showed up and ruined everything!"

​"He was never going to marry you, Naya."

​"You don’t know a single thing about our history!"

​"I know him," Veyra paused for a brief second, her gaze piercing right through her rival. "And I know women like you."

​Naya’s chest heaved with frustration. "And what exactly do you think you know about me?"

​"I know you have a famous, powerful father who might become the president," Veyra said, tilting her head slightly. "But outside of your family name, what do you actually have of your own?"

​Naya blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question.

​"What single accomplishment have you achieved by yourself? What business have you built? What value have you created on your own merit?" Veyra asked quietly. "The answer is nothing. Without your father’s backing, you have nothing."

​Naya’s face flushed bright red, quickly turning pale before flushing red once again.

​"I have far more wealth and status than a nobody like you will ever touch!" she spat venomously.

​"Then prove it right here," Veyra challenged, gesturing toward the contested private room. "You want this dining room so badly? You want to win this dispute? Do it using your own merit. Stop hiding behind your father’s political title. Stop relying on your family’s social rank. Stop using money to buy your way out of basic manners."

​Naya let out a bitter, unpleasant laugh that sounded sharp and grating.

​"You want me to drop my advantages and play fair with you?" Naya shook her head in disbelief. "That is not how power works in the real world, you naive girl."

​"Then by admitting that, you have already lost the argument."

​Naya’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "I want to see how you expect to secure this room without any power, connections, or family money. How do you plan on winning this?"

​Veyra offered a slight, cool smile. "Just stand back and watch me."

​Leon stepped in closer behind her, keeping his voice strictly at a whisper so only Veyra could hear.

​"Mrs. Thorne," Leon murmured cautiously. "Should I place an immediate call to Mr. Thorne? He can clear this entire situation up instantly."

​Veyra shook her head without turning around. "No, do not call him."

​"Are you completely sure?" Leon pressed gently. "This situation is escalating, and the Whitmore family carries serious political weight."

​"I am entirely capable of handling this myself," Veyra stated firmly.

​"Mr. Thorne has vast resources and immediate influence," Leon reminded her. "He can resolve this entire conflict with a single phone call to the property owner."

​"I do not need my husband to step in and fight my everyday battles for me," Veyra replied, her tone leaving zero room for argument.

​Leon studied the calm determination in her eyes for a moment. Recognizing her resolve, he inclined his head respectfully.

​"Understood, Mrs. Thorne."

​Veyra turned away from Naya and addressed the anxious hostess directly. "Please fetch the manager or the owner of this establishment immediately."

​The hostess blinked in surprise. "The owner?"

​"Yes," Veyra stated clearly. "This is an administrative dispute over fair service and reservations. I want the owner to step in and resolve it directly."

​The hostess hesitated for a second, glanced nervously at Naya, and then hurried off toward the back offices.

​Naya scoffed loudly, crossing her arms again. "Do you honestly think the owner is going to side with you? I have been a regular customer here for years. He knows my family personally."

​"Then he should know how to run his business properly," Veyra responded without looking at her.

​A few moments later, the owner emerged from the back hallway.

​He was a middle-aged man with a round face, visibly sweating and looking thoroughly stressed. His eyes darted nervously between Veyra’s sharp posture and Naya’s intimidating presence.

​"What seems to be the trouble here, ladies?" he asked, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

​Veyra spoke up first, keeping her tone completely objective. "I arrived at the podium first and requested the private dining room. The waiter dismissed my request without checking and handed the space over to Ms. Whitmore simply because she walked in after me. I am asking for the room to be assigned fairly to the party that arrived first."

​The owner looked over at Naya, then back at Veyra, swallowing hard.

​"Well, ma’am... Ms. Whitmore has been a highly valued VIP guest of ours for a very long time," the owner stammered out, trying to find a safe middle ground.

​"Her customer history does not change the fact that I was standing here first," Veyra countered smoothly.

​The owner hovered in uncomfortable hesitation, terrified of angering a politician’s daughter, yet clearly aware that Veyra was making a valid point in front of a room full of watching patrons.

​Before he could give an official answer, Naya’s sharp voice cut through the air.

​"Perhaps you should ask her how she really knows the management here," Naya sneered, raising her voice so every customer nearby could hear the slander. "Maybe she is offering personal favors behind closed doors to get what she wants. That is usually how women of her low standing get ahead."

​Veyra’s eyes flashed with instant heat.

​"You really believe that is how every woman functions in life," Veyra said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy tone. "You assume every woman uses her body or cheap tricks to get ahead because you cannot comprehend hard work. You assume everyone is as shallow, lazy, and manipulative as you are."

​Naya’s face turned bright red with embarrassment. "How dare you speak to me like—"

​"You have never worked a single hard day in your entire life," Veyra cut her off completely, her voice echoing clearly. "You have never earned a real accomplishment on your own. You have never built anything of value with your own hands. Everything you own was handed to you on a silver platter by your father, and now you are standing here trying to bully your way into taking a dining room from someone who actually respects basic manners."

​Naya’s hands began to shake uncontrollably, her eyes wide with wild rage as the crowd began whispering among themselves.

​"You are going to regret every single word that just came out of your mouth," Naya threatened, her jaw trembling.

​"I highly doubt that," Veyra replied coolly.

​In a sudden burst of uncontrolled fury, Naya raised her right hand high into the air.

​Driven by pure rage and humiliated beyond reason, she swung her hand down, intending to slap Veyra right across the face and wipe the calm, composed look off her features once and for all.

​Veyra didn’t flinch, nor did she step back. She stood her ground and watched the incoming hand with steady eyes.

​Naya’s hand suddenly froze mid-air, a split second before making contact.

​Her frantic eyes darted over to Leon’s tall, imposing form standing right beside Veyra, then swept across the room at the dozens of patrons watching with open phones, and finally settled on the pale face of the restaurant owner.

​She realized she couldn’t hit Veyra directly. Doing so in front of so many witnesses would spark a massive public scandal that could instantly ruin her father’s political campaign for the presidency.

​Restraining her hand away from Veyra, Naya violently redirected her rage to the side.

​SLAP!

​Her open palm struck Leon directly across his cheek with full force.

​The loud, sharp sound of the strike cracked through the silent restaurant like a gunshot.

​Leon’s head snapped to the side from the impact. He didn’t raise his hand to defend himself, nor did he make a sound, though his jaw clamped shut as a red mark immediately began to bloom on his skin.

​Veyra felt her blood instantly run cold, followed by a surge of overwhelming rage.

​Her fists clenched tight at her sides, her whole body tensing up as her eyes blazed with intense anger.

​She had patiently tolerated personal insults aimed at her background. She had ignored the mockery, the arrogant threats, and the loud public humiliation.

​However, putting hands on the people protecting her was a line no one was allowed to cross.

​Realizing she couldn’t risk a public scandal by hitting Veyra directly, Naya Whitmore lashed out in frustration and slapped Leon across the face instead, an action that completely shattered Veyra’s patience and made her furious beyond words.