Chapter 51

Sunlight streamed through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across the handwoven rug.

Victoria Sterling sat back against an ivory leather sofa in a silk robe, a freshly brewed cup of black coffee in one hand.

Once again, she studied the photo Charlotte Whitmore had sent her.

The location was unmistakable.

The west gate of Westbridge University.

Adrian had shown her another photo before. The car in that one had been so blurry it was almost impossible to identify, but judging from the surroundings, it had clearly been taken in the same place.

This photo, however, was slightly clearer.

At least the make and model were recognizable, even if the license plate was only partially visible.

An Aston Martin.

A Lagonda Taraf.

Victoria didn’t know much about cars.

When she went out, she was usually driven in one of the family’s Rolls-Royces or Maybachs. On the rare occasions she drove herself, she had her own limited-edition Ferraris and Porsches.

Cars that cost millions, were produced in tiny numbers, and yet looked relatively understated rarely caught her attention.

Her father, on the other hand, could certainly be called a collector.

Then again, many of the cars in his collection had been gifts.

Richard Sterling owned so many vehicles that even he probably couldn’t list them all off the top of his head without having an assistant pull up the inventory.

Victoria thought of the enormous underground garage at the Westwood estate.

It was practically a subterranean palace, filled with extraordinary cars from different eras and manufacturers.

She rarely visited the estate, and even when she did, she never stayed long.

Westwood was Richard’s private territory.

He didn’t particularly like anyone disturbing him there.

Which meant—

As for whether Richard actually had a Lagonda Taraf somewhere in that enormous collection, Victoria honestly wasn’t sure.

She set down her coffee and called Michael.

“Miss Sterling.”

His voice was as calm and respectful as ever.

“What can I do for you?”

“Michael, I just sent you a photo. Take a look.”

Victoria spoke casually.

“It’s a Lagonda Taraf. Does my father own one?”

There was a brief pause.

“One moment, Miss Sterling. Let me check the photo.”

Victoria immediately added, “And who else around here owns one? I assume it was a limited production model?”

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That was what she really wanted to know.

As far as Victoria was concerned, Elena was shallow, empty-headed, and had little going for her besides her looks.

The possibility that she might have any connection to Richard had never even crossed Victoria’s mind.

Yes, the two of them could technically have encountered each other that night.

But even then, Victoria had never seriously considered it.

She had simply assumed that Elena, like everyone else, had fled the moment Richard arrived.

Knowing Elena, she had probably been even more flustered than the others.

“Miss Sterling,” Michael said after a moment, “the Chairman does have a Lagonda Taraf in his collection. The allocation here was extremely limited at the time, but there are a few others in the area.”

“Oh?”

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

“Who owns them?”

Michael named several people.

They were members of wealthy but relatively low-profile business families.

Of course, none of them could compare with the Sterling family in either wealth or influence.

Michael paused.

“Miss Sterling, is there a particular family you’d like me to look into? The plate in the photo is too blurred to identify, but if necessary, I can have someone look into the registration.”

Victoria gave a faint scoff.

“No need. I was only curious.”

She ended the call and sent Charlotte a reply.

Charlotte had sent her the photo simply because she wanted to know what wealthy young man in their social circle might be driving a car like that.

Unfortunately—

Victoria’s lips curved faintly.

None of the other owners Michael had mentioned were young men.

One was nearly eighty.

Another had celebrated his sixtieth birthday not long ago.

The rest were around the same age.

A trace of mockery entered Victoria’s expression.

So that was it.

Elena had been putting on such an act around Adrian because she had already found herself a new benefactor.

Adrian’s handsome face flashed through Victoria’s mind.

Then she thought of the older men Michael had mentioned.

She gave a quiet, contemptuous laugh.

She had assumed Elena was playing hard to get.

Apparently, she had overestimated her.

Elena had simply found someone richer—someone more willing to spend money on her.

How pathetic.

Victoria lifted her coffee and took another sip, disdain filling her eyes.

Trading on her youth and beauty for luxury gifts and rides in multimillion-dollar cars might buy Elena a few expensive things.

But it would never buy her a place among the people who actually held power.

In the circles Victoria had grown up in, women who survived entirely on a wealthy man’s favor were tolerated at best.

They were never truly regarded as one of them.

And besides—

Adrian was brilliant.

His future was practically limitless.

Elena was too foolish to appreciate what she had.

One day, she would regret it.

Victoria sent the message, locked her phone, and immediately put the matter out of her mind.

Someone like Elena—poorly connected, unimpressive, and now apparently dependent on an older wealthy man—had never truly qualified as Victoria’s rival in the first place.

And if Adrian ever discovered what Victoria believed Elena was doing now, he would probably want nothing more to do with her.

Elsewhere, Charlotte Whitmore was sitting in a private manicure room when her phone vibrated.

She opened Victoria’s reply.

Her eyes immediately narrowed.

Victoria’s wording was elegant and restrained, but Charlotte had no trouble extracting the important part.

The other people around here who own that car are all older men.

Elena really did find herself a new rich benefactor.

Of course.

Charlotte suddenly sat upright, nearly knocking the nail technician’s hand aside.

“Miss Whitmore, careful...”

The technician jumped.

“It’s fine. Keep going.”

Charlotte waved her off, her thoughts already racing.

Previously, she had contacted Charles Whitman at Westbrook Materials Group and asked him to fire Elena’s father.

But Charles had brushed her off in the end and stubbornly refused to dismiss Daniel Hayes.

Charlotte had been unable to understand why.

What could Elena possibly have done to make Charles protect her father?

That was why Charlotte had started asking around among students at Westbridge and eventually obtained the photo of the Aston Martin.

Now everything made sense.

The people Victoria had mentioned were all powerful enough to make Charles think twice.

Charles hadn’t dared touch Daniel because Elena’s mysterious older benefactor was protecting him behind the scenes.

“Heh...”

Charlotte stared at her phone and let out a cold laugh.

Elena always acted so soft and delicate.

She looked exactly like the kind of woman who knew how to wrap men around her finger.

And apparently, Charlotte thought bitterly, she had been right.

A twisted sense of satisfaction mixed with contempt inside her.

Her imagination immediately supplied the rest: Elena flattering some much older wealthy man, smiling sweetly and doing whatever she could to keep his favor.

Charlotte’s lips curled.

So this is the game you want to play?

Fine.

Then don’t blame me for making sure everyone finds out exactly what kind of woman you really are.