“It must be exhausting—living a life someone else scripted for you. Chasing approval you never asked for. But Gideon? He’s not chasing. Not anymore.”
She smiled again.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.
It was hollowed out. Gutted.
Evelyn’s voice went cold as steel. “Doors close quickly in this world, Miss Rivers. You’d do well to remember that.”
Arden’s exhale was smooth. Confident.
“And yet, here I am. Still standing.”
She turned without waiting for dismissal.
Left them both sitting there, two women who’d always controlled the board, realizing, too late, they’d just lost a queen they never saw coming.
And that?
That kind of power couldn’t be bought.
Only earned.
The conversation ended,but the tension didn’t.
It followed Arden out of the club like smoke clinging to her skin, unshakable, invisible, and impossible to ignore.
The night air cut cool across her cheeks. Manhattan buzzed around them: horns in the distance, music bleeding from open windows, the occasional burst of laughter from late-night wanderers. The city didn’t care what had happened. It kept moving.
But Arden didn’t.
Not really.
She stayed close, her heels tapping out a quiet challenge with every step. She crossed her arms, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched like she was holding something in. Every clipped step tried to shake off the frost Evelyn Blackwell had left behind.
It didn’t work.
She exhaled through her nose, then finally broke the silence.
“Do you always let her treat people like pawns?”
The words snapped harder than she meant them to. She knew that.
But bitterness had teeth, and hers were showing.
Gideon stopped walking.
Abrupt. Still.
The streetlamp caught the angles of his face, carving lines into his expression that hadn’t been there a minute ago.
He stood there, silent, like words would only get in the way.
Didn’t rush to defend her. Didn’t rush to defend himself.
He stared at her. Jaw tight. Eyes unreadable. A storm barely held back.
Then his hand dragged through his hair, frustration flashing across his features.
