The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 199

Vivian

The maître d' practically bowed as he led us to our private dining room, his deference to Aveline so complete it bordered on theatrical. I watched her move through the restaurant with that effortless grace that had always made me feel like I was performing a poor imitation of sophistication. Her posture was perfect, her smile warm but controlled, every gesture calculated to project exactly the right amount of approachability mixed with untouchable elegance.

*"There will be plenty more opportunities for you to show me how cruel you can be."*

Her words from the car echoed in my mind as I settled into the plush velvet chair across from her. I couldn't help but smile slightly. Was she really that naive, or had she somehow seen through everything I was planning? The uncertainty was almost more unsettling than outright suspicion would have been.

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket. I knew without looking that it was Dwayne. He'd been sending increasingly urgent messages ever since his father had orchestrated his return to New York. Apparently, Devan felt confident enough in their position to stop worrying about Orion's alleged underworld connections. The men were preparing for their final battle, but honestly, their corporate warfare felt distant and irrelevant compared to what was happening right here, right now, between Aveline and me.

I pressed my hand against my pocket, feeling the phone vibrate again as Aveline gestured for me to sit wherever I felt comfortable. There was something almost careless about the way she dismissed any potential threat I might pose. My heart began racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety I couldn't quite identify.

The courses arrived one by one—each more elaborate than the last. Seared foie gras with black truffle reduction, lobster thermidor with champagne foam, wagyu beef with gold leaf garnish. The kind of meal that cost more than most people made in a month. But despite the visual spectacle, I had absolutely no appetite.

Aveline poured herself a glass of wine, then gestured toward my empty glass. "You don't need to worry about me trying to make conversation," she said with genuine amusement. "I assume you're not particularly interested in small talk with me anyway. But you really should try to enjoy this—this is, hands down, the best restaurant I've ever been to."

There was something in her eyes when she said "enjoy"—a warmth that I found irritating and confusing in equal measure.

"We'll each focus on our own food, pour our own drinks," she continued casually. "No need to pretend this is a bonding experience."

*Well,* I thought bitterly, *this might be the last meal we ever share.* But even as the thought formed, I felt a strange pang of regret. She'd brought me to this beautiful place, treated me with more genuine respect in the past few hours than she had in years, and I was still planning to—

*Stop it. She's still the same person who had everything handed to her while you fought for scraps.*

Aveline looked up from her plate, studying my expression with curious concern. "You're not planning to poison me, are you?"

I didn't even flinch. "That's exactly the kind of suspicion you should maintain. I'd stick to dishes I haven't touched, if I were you."

She laughed softly. "Too bad your boyfriend isn't in New York anymore. Otherwise I might actually search you for suspicious substances."

My hand involuntarily moved toward my pocket where the small vial of sedative was hidden. My heart skipped several beats, but I kept my expression neutral.

*Dwayne is closer than you think, my dear Aveline. When will you finally wake up?*

As the server approached with the final course—some elaborate chocolate soufflé creation—I saw my opportunity. With deliberate clumsiness, I knocked into his arm just as he was setting down the dessert. The plate crashed to the floor, sending chocolate sauce and cream splattering across Aveline's white blouse.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" the server exclaimed, immediately calling for cleanup assistance. "Please, madam, let me help you clean that up properly."

Aveline waved off his apologies graciously. "Accidents happen. I'll just step out for a moment."

As soon as she disappeared with the frantic server, I pulled out my phone. The screen was flooded with messages from Dwayne:

*"Vivian, time's running out. Don't forget our agreement."*

*"Are you at the restaurant yet? Which one? Contact me the moment she's unconscious. No games. Remember, we're in this together now."*

*"Once this is over, Orion won't be in any condition to focus on his precious bidding competition. He'll lose everything we've worked for. Everything will belong to us."*

I stared at the messages, expecting to feel the familiar surge of vindictive excitement. Instead, I found myself increasingly disgusted.

*Why? Why do I always have to resort to this kind of manipulation to get what I want? Why can't I just earn things honestly?*

But even as these thoughts plagued me, my hands seemed to move independently, guided by years of resentment and carefully nurtured hatred. I reached into my pocket, withdrew the small vial, and quickly emptied its contents into Aveline's wine glass.

When she returned, looking only slightly dampened from the cleanup effort, I was calmly pouring myself a fresh glass of wine.

"You know," I said conversationally, "this reminds me of our previous encounters. The first time I drugged your drink, you ended up sleeping with a complete stranger. The second time, I spiked your juice and you nearly got sexually assaulted by Dwayne."

Aveline picked up her wine glass and held it up as if proposing a toast. "The third time?"

"Yes," I said quietly. "The third time. Do you think I'd drug you again?"

Her gaze was unnervingly direct, as if she could see straight through to my soul. But her voice remained calm and steady. "I believe the third time will end differently than the first two."

I couldn't suppress a short laugh. "Really? If you want to switch glasses, now would be your last chance."

Her eyes grew even more intense, but instead of showing fear or suspicion, she seemed almost... eager?

"Sorry," she said with a strange smile, "but I'm absolutely dying to drink this wine."

And with that, she drained the entire glass in one long swallow.

I watched in fascination and growing horror as she finished her wine, then mechanically lifted my own glass to my lips and emptied it as well.

As Aveline began to slump forward, her eyelids growing heavy, the war in my chest intensified. She had trusted me—even knowing what I was capable of, even after I'd essentially warned her, she had chosen to trust me.

My phone buzzed with another message: *"Is she unconscious yet? My contacts saw you enter Le Bernardin. Don't worry, we're on our way."*

The phone slipped from my numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

*What have I done?*