Marrying my secret admirer after my husband's fake death novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Edith stared at Beckett, seeing right through the veneer of sympathy in his eyes–a thin mask of false concern that barely concealed his condescension. Nausea twisted in her chest. Thank God she hadn’t eaten much today; otherwise, she might have thrown up right on his polished shoes.

“So, what’s your problem with construction workers?” she shot back, voice sharp. “Who do you think built Northcrest Tower for you, if not those guys pouring concrete and laying steel? You’re old enough to know better than to talk without thinking.”

Beckett looked at her, clearly annoyed. In his mind, Edith must still be bitter about The Vance Family. Why else would she lash out at him like this?

“Edith, that’s not the point right now,” he said, trying to steer the conversation back to his real concern. “How did you end up like this? Back when you were with The Vance Family, did you ever have to take these kinds of jobs? Do you realize how desperate you look? Take me off your block list and I’ll transfer you some money. You shouldn’t be doing this kind of menial work anymore.”

။

He pulled out his phone, acting as though he was about to save her life, and waited for Edith to cave and unblock him.

But Edith wasn’t about to touch his money. That wasn’t charity; it was just a down payment for him to keep pestering her.

“When I was with The Vance Family, I didn’t take art commissions because you people were still stuck in the Victorian era. Your mother, Heather, thought it was shameful for a daughter–in–law to have her own career. Now, I get to do what I love. That’s not desperation–it just means my husband understands that the nineteenth century ended a long time ago.”

She rattled all this off without hesitation. “And another thing, Mr. Vance, can you move aside? I’d rather not touch you. Heaven forbid your very pregnant wife sees us and gets so worked up she risks the family’s precious heir. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience. Also, it’s dinner time. Don’t make me late for my meal.”

“Dinner time? Did your boss buy you one of those boxed lunches? You’re better off skipping it,” Beckett sneered. “I’ll have my assistant take Salome home, and I’ll treat you to a real dinner. How does that sound?”

Edith pinched the bridge of her nose. Was it really this hard to get through to him?

She slowed her words, raising her voice, “I’m having dinner here. With my husband.

1/2

17:40

Chapter 180

Do you understand?”

Beckett understood perfectly well. He just didn’t want to believe it.

He distinctly remembered the manager pulling him aside earlier, warning him not to make a scene tonight: the guests dining here were not people to mess with.

How could Edith’s husband possibly be one of them? The man could only afford a house with a yard way out in the suburbs.

Beckett arched an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Edith, you don’t have to pretend with me. You want everyone to believe you’re doing great, so you brag about dining here. But do you have any idea how much a meal costs in this place?”

“I do. Forty or fifty grand, give or take,” she replied coolly. She’d looked it up just before coming.

“That’s not even the point. Money isn’t enough–you need a reservation, and not just anyone can get one. Even most rich people can’t. Least of all you.”

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