The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 168

169 Turning the Tables

Hazel’s POV (1

The white residue clinging to my straw caught my attention immediately. I lowered the glass without taking a sip, my mind racing through possibilities. Whatever Gloria had slipped into my drink during my bathroom trip, I doubted it would just give me an upset stomach.

“Something wrong with your juice?” Gloria asked, her voice laced with false concern.

I glanced up, studying her face. Her eyes darted nervously between my face and the glass, her fingers drumming against the table. Amateur. If you’re going to drug someone, at least have the decency to be subtle about it.

“It’s fine,” I replied with a casual shrug. “Just not as thirsty as I thought.”

I deliberately pushed the glass aside and picked up my fork instead, pretending to consider the risotto. Gloria’s shoulders tensed, her impatience barely concealed behind her smile.

“The juice is fresh-squeezed,” she insisted. “The best in the city.”

So eager to see me drink it. I wondered what exactly she had planned. Would I pass out in public? Start behaving erratically? Perhaps she had someone waiting outside with a camera, ready to capture me in a compromised state. The Everetts wouldn’t want me dead-that would be too messy. They wanted me disgraced.

“You know what,” I said, reaching for my phone, “I just remembered something.”

“What are you doing?” Gloria asked sharply.

I typed quickly, sending a text to Alistair: *Your sister is harassing me at Café Milano. Handle it or my lawyer will.*

“Just sending a quick message,” I replied with a sweet smile.

Gloria’s phone rang less than thirty seconds later. She glanced at the screen, her face paling.

“I need to take this,” she muttered, standing abruptly.

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As soon as she stepped away from the table, I moved. With swift precision, I switched our glasses, placing her untouched water where my juice had been and vice versa. Then I carefully poured three-quarters of the drugged juice into the nearby potted plant, making sure to leave enough in the glass to maintain the appearance.

Gloria returned, her face flushed with anger. “You texted Alistair? How dare you!”

“How dare I?” I laughed incredulously. “You’re the one who insisted on this meeting.”

She dropped back into her seat, glaring at me. “He threatened to cut off my allowance if I don’t leave immediately.”

“Then perhaps you should go,” I suggested mildly.

“Not until we finish our conversation,” she snapped, grabbing what she thought was her water glass.

I watched her fingers curl around the glass containing the last of my drugged juice. “What else did you want to discuss?”

She set the glass down without drinking. “The terms of your divorce. Alistair is being far too generous.”

“That’s between me and my lawyers,” I replied, deliberately taking a small sip from the water glass in front of me-her original glass.

“You’re not entitled to half the company,” Gloria hissed. “You’ve only been married for

six months.”

“I co-founded Evening Gala with my own designs,” I reminded her. “My claim has nothing to do with the marriage.”

“Without Everett funding, you would be nothing,” she sneered.

I leaned back, feeling remarkably calm despite her hostility. “Is that what Alistair told you? Interesting, considering he begged me to partner with him after seeing my senior collection at fashion school.”

Gloria’s fingers tightened around the juice glass again. “You’re twisting things.”

“No, I’m simply stating facts,” I replied. “Facts that would hold up in court, along with the original investor agreements listing me as the creative director and majority stakeholder”

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Her expression flickered with uncertainty. “That’s not possible.”

“Check the records,” I suggested. “Your brother may have been handling the finances, but I wasn’t stupid enough to give up control of my own designs.”

Gloria lifted the glass to her lips, pausing just before drinking. “You’re bluffing.”

I shrugged again, maintaining eye contact. “I guess we’ll find out in court.”

She took a small sip of the juice, then set it down with a grimace. “This tastes strange.”

“Really?” I asked innocently. “Mine was delicious.”

I reached for the water pitcher and topped off her glass with more orange juice, diluting whatever she’d put in it while maintaining the color. “Here, maybe this will help.”

Gloria hesitated, then took another sip. Her face relaxed slightly. “Better.”

“Now, about those harassment claims you mentioned,” I continued smoothly. “What exactly does the Everett family hope to gain by spreading lies about me?”

“They’re not lies,” she insisted, taking another drink of the juice. “We have evidence.”

“A video of two people talking in a car?” I scoffed. “That’s hardly scandalous.”

“There’s more,” she said, but her words were beginning to slur slightly. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear her vision.

“Are you feeling alright, Gloria?” I asked, my voice dripping with false concern.

She rubbed her temple. “I’m fine. Just… just a headache.”

“Maybe you should get some fresh air,” I suggested, watching as she struggled to

maintain her focus.

“No, I need to…” She frowned, losing her train of thought. “What was I saying?”

I gathered my purse and stood. “You were just telling me how you planned to leave and never bother me again.”

Gloria tried to stand as well but swayed unsteadily. “Something’s wrong” she

mumbled, her eyes unfocused.

“What could possibly be wrong?” I asked, leaning closer to her. “Did you eat something

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