Chapter 35: The Art of Turning the Tables

Liam Hart's piercing gaze settled on Cheryl "Cher" Waverly, and for a moment, the tension in the room thickened like a storm cloud. His expression was calm, unreadable, yet it carried an undeniable authority that could silence even the most defiant voice.

“Before I address Cher’s question,” Liam began, his tone deceptively mild, “may I ask her something first?”

The room froze. No one had expected Liam to respond this way. All eyes darted between Liam and Cher, who now looked startled, her confidence faltering.

Cher hesitated but nodded, attempting to maintain her composure. “Of course.”

Liam leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice as sharp as a blade yet devoid of emotion. “Miss Waverly, are you pregnant?”

A collective gasp rippled through the room. The air became electrified with shock and disbelief. Liam had just thrown a question so personal and invasive that it felt like a calculated strike.

Cher’s face turned ashen. She stumbled over her words, caught completely off guard. “I… what?”

Liam’s lips curled into the faintest of smirks, but his eyes remained icy. “I assumed, given your willingness to ask deeply personal questions, that you wouldn’t mind answering one yourself.”

The subtle venom in his words was unmistakable. Everyone understood his intent: Liam had effortlessly flipped the tables, exposing Cher’s audacity without ever raising his voice.

“Liam,” Kane interjected smoothly, stepping forward to defuse the situation. “Miss Waverly’s question was meant as a jest. You know how admirers can be—sometimes their curiosity gets the better of them. We apologize if it came off as intrusive.”

Liam’s gaze flicked to Kane, who managed a diplomatic smile. After a brief pause, Liam nodded. “A jest, of course.

Let’s leave it at that.”

Kane gestured toward the door, signaling the group to leave. “We’re immensely grateful for your time, Mr. Hart. We know you’re very busy, and we’ll ensure the interview reflects our deep respect for you.”

Cher was quick to follow Kane out, her face still pale. The moment they entered the elevator, Kane’s polite demeanor shifted into one of irritation. “Cher, what were you thinking? That question could have blown everything. Liam Hart isn’t someone to be trifled with.”

Cher lowered her head, her voice trembling as she played the victim. “I thought I was asking something that would intrigue people… something they’d want to know. I didn’t mean to create trouble, Kane. I was only trying to help.”

As she spoke, tears streamed down Cher’s cheeks, but her expression remained exaggerated. “I’m so sorry, everyone, and I’m sorry, Allie. Mr. Liam agreed to the interview. I thought I had persuaded him, but I didn’t expect him to look at Allie’s face.”

Allie was undeniably beautiful, with a charm that drew men in and made them give her preferential treatment.

Cher continued, “After all, I was too arrogant and almost took away Allie’s credit. These are all my faults.” She cried even harder, clearly performing for the audience. Kane, though still a little angry, attempted to comfort her. “Forget it. I know you didn’t mean it. You’re dedicated to the community, and I understand that. But Allie, you really should apologize.”

Without hesitation, Cher walked up to Allie, her expression pious and her eyes glistening with fake tears. “Allie, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me? I really didn’t mean to take your credit on purpose. I even asked the president to include your name if the interview comes out.”

Kane stepped forward and added, “This is true. Cher mentioned it to me twice. It really must not have been intentional.

 

You two are good friends and the backbone of the news agency. I don’t want to see you both unhappy.”

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Allie Brooks stood stiffly, her smile strained as she watched Cher Waverly expertly manipulate the situation. There was something about Cher’s saccharine charm that grated on her nerves. It wasn’t jealousy—no, Allie was certain of that—but the sheer audacity of Cher’s pretense stirred something deep within her.

“I must say,” Cher announced, her voice honeyed but sharp, “it takes a certain kind of charm to secure an exclusive interview with Liam Hart. A feat like that doesn’t happen every day, does it, Allie?” Her delicate fingers brushed back a perfectly curled strand of hair, her expression the epitome of innocence.

Allie’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Charm only takes you so far, Cher. Talent does the rest. But don’t worry—when the piece comes out, I’ll make sure to credit the entire team. After all, we’re in this together, right?”

Cher blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly recovered. “Of course,” she said sweetly. “It’s so thoughtful of you, Allie. Truly.”

The president of the journalism club, Kane, clapped his hands together. “That’s the spirit, ladies! Collaboration makes everything better. Allie, your generosity is commendable. A shared byline for an interview with Liam Hart? That’ll definitely make waves.”

Allie’s gaze flicked to Cher, catching the brief flicker of annoyance that crossed her face. For all her theatrics, Cher hadn’t expected Allie to play her game—and win.

As they exited the elevator, Cher turned on the charm again. “Everyone’s worked so hard today. Let me treat you all to dinner at Summit Bistro. My treat.”

Summit Bistro? Allie’s brow arched slightly. That place was notorious for being outrageously expensive, frequented by the city’s elite. Cher wasn’t exactly known for her modesty, but this was a new level of extravagance.

The murmurs of excitement from the team were immediate. “Summit Bistro?” one of them gushed. “I heard even a salad there costs a small fortune.”

“You’re incredible, Cher!” another chimed in.

Cher turned to Allie, her eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite kindness. “You’ll come too, won’t you, Allie? I insist—it’s the least I can do after all your hard work.”

Allie’s polite smile didn’t waver, but inside, irritation simmered. Refusing would make her look petty, but agreeing felt like stepping into a trap. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The Summit Bistro was as ostentatious as Allie remembered, all glittering chandeliers and marble floors. Dinner was predictably lavish, with Cher ordering the most extravagant dishes on the menu. By the end of the meal, the bill came to an eye-watering $20,000.

When the time came to pay, Cher pulled out a sleek black card, casually placing it on the table for all to see. Gasps echoed around the room.

“Is that... a Centurion Black Card?” Kane asked, his voice tinged with awe. “Only the wealthiest in the city have those.”

Cher feigned nonchalance, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Oh, this?” she said, her tone light. “It was a gift from my boyfriend. Honestly, I didn’t think it was anything special.”

“Your boyfriend gave you that?” someone exclaimed. “He must be incredible! Who is he?”

Cher blushed, a coy smile spreading across her face. “He’s just someone who cares about me deeply. Actually, he’s picking me up tonight. You might get to meet him.”

The table erupted into chatter, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man who could casually gift a black card. Allie, however, felt her stomach twist. She recognized that card all too well. It wasn’t Cher’s—it was Nick’s.

As if on cue, the door to the private dining room swung open.

“He’s here,” Cher said softly, her voice brimming with satisfaction.