The real Ian was this man before her—calm, rational, infallibly calculating, a man who saw everything as a bargaining chip.
And she, who had fancied herself a master hunter, had ended up being the foolish, laughable prey.
"Ian—" Vanessa bit her lip, her eyes filled with pain and helplessness. "You were lying to me from the very beginning?"
He gazed down at her, his eyes devoid of all feeling. There was no pride, no guilt, only a profound, bottomless calm.
"It was a mutually agreed-upon transaction. Where's the lie in that?" he said flatly. "You got the resources, fame, and wealth you wanted, and I ensured my mother's health. We each got what we wanted. A clean transaction."
"A clean transaction—" Vanessa's voice suddenly rose, thick with tears and resentment. "You know I love you! I've loved you for ten whole years, given you the best years of a woman's life! Everything I did was to be worthy of you. But what about you? Ian, what do you see me as?"
Her tears, a mixture of indignation and humiliation, rolled down her cheeks. "In all these ten years, did you never, not even for a second, have any feelings for me?"
Just then, around the corner of the lounge's hallway, a slender figure stopped short.
Eleanor had been on her way to discuss a plan with Dr. Smith but had stumbled upon this scene. To get to Smith's office, she had to pass through the hallway next to the public lounge. Eleanor froze, her hand clutching her files tightening slightly.
She was about to leave when she heard Ian's calm voice behind her. "Vanessa, I've told you before not to waste your time and energy on me. Our deal is spelled out clearly in the contract."
As Vanessa turned her head away in pain, her peripheral vision caught the corner of a white lab coat peeking out from the hallway.
Vanessa shifted her gaze from Eleanor back to Ian. Finally, she saw a flicker of pain on his cold face, saw him completely lose his composure.
But her satisfaction lasted only a moment before she was gripped by a different kind of pain. All of Ian's emotional turmoil was because of Eleanor. Only Eleanor could make him suffer the pains of love.
Good, Eleanor. Keep going. Keep hating him, loathing him. Make him disappear from your world.
After Eleanor's figure vanished at the elevators, Ian pulled his gaze back. When he looked at Vanessa again, his eyes had returned to their usual coldness, but beneath it simmered a suppressed rage.
"Vanessa," his voice was dangerously low, carrying a terrifying weight. "If you don't want Yeaton Holdings to go bankrupt ahead of schedule, you'd better learn when to stop."

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