Chapter 167: Here Comes Trouble

NORA’S POV

Vanessa stepped down from the raised stage, her silver designer dress shimmering under the crystal chandeliers.

She held her digital scoring tablet in one hand and accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter with the other. Her chin was held high, her lips curved into that same haughty, entitled sneer she had worn all semester.

She walked past the corporate tables, heading straight for Table Six.

"Here comes trouble," Bear muttered under his breath, taking a slow sip of his water.

Knox stood up from his chair.

He didn’t move away from me; he stepped up right beside my shoulder, standing close as if to shield me. His hand settled on the back of my chair, staring coldly at Vanessa as she came to a stop at our table.

"Well, well," Vanessa purred, her gaze sweeping over my emerald-green dress with faint disgust. "I have to admit, Bennett, I was surprised to see your name on the board today. But tomorrow, your little village fairytale officially ends."

Mom frowned with quiet dignity, while Priya leaned back in her chair.

"Is there something you need, Vanessa?" I asked, keeping my voice completely calm.

Vanessa lifted her digital tablet, tapping the screen with a manicured French-tipped nail.

"Twenty percent of tomorrow’s final score belongs to me," Vanessa said, leaning in slightly. "The resort board wanted an ambassador who understands real luxury. Let’s see how your rustic home-style dough holds up when I’m holding the pen."

I looked straight into her eyes, feeling zero fear.

"You bought a seat at the table with your father’s checkbook, Vanessa," I said in a mild but steady tone. "Just like you tried to buy Knox’s time, and just like you tried to buy leverage with stolen photos. But when the bread comes out of the oven tomorrow, even your spite won’t be able to change the taste."

Vanessa’s smirk stiffened, her eyes flashing with anger.

Before she could speak, Priya set her champagne flute down on the table with a soft, sharp clink.

"And let’s remember the legal reality here, Vanessa," Priya said, leaning forward with her pre-law fangs fully bared. "Dean Hastings and Campus Security already have your name linked as Chloe’s potential accomplice in a criminal break-in and extortion scheme. One formal complaint from me to the Tri-County ethics committee tonight, and the resort board will strip your ambassador sash before sunrise. So do yourself a favor, sit down, and vote on the bread."

A blotchy red flush crept up Vanessa’s pale neck.

Knox stepped into her space, his towering six-foot-two frame casting a dark shadow over her silver dress. His voice was low and perfectly controlled.

"Cross the line tomorrow, Vanessa, and your father’s foundation won’t be the only thing facing a public audit," Knox said. "Walk away from our table. Now."

Several nearby tables of Boston donors turned to stare at the commotion.

Vanessa’s lips pressed into a thin, humiliated line. Clutching her tablet against her chest, she spun on her silver heels and hurried back toward the VIP lounge without another word.

"God, that felt good," Bear chuckled, grinning around our table.

"She is completely pathetic," Priya said, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her burgundy gown.

Mom let out a long breath, looking between Knox and me with mild concern. "Who was that? Can she really ruin our score tomorrow, Nora?"

"Mathematically? Not a chance, Mrs. Bennett," Priya explained instantly. "The scoring system uses an Olympic average. There are four world-class master chefs on that panel, and Vanessa is only one sponsor vote. The highest and lowest rogue scores get dropped. As long as the bake is undeniable, her score is completely useless."

A wave of visible relief washed over Mom’s face.

Up on the main stage, the master of ceremonies returned to the microphone to conclude the formal program.

"Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp, the Grand Alpine Hall opens for the final four!" the announcer boomed. "Your challenge: the Grand Finale Harvest Showpiece. Four hours to build an architectural artisan bread display and a dozen specialty pastries. May the best bakery win!"

The ballroom erupted into applause, signaling the end of the speeches.

Waiters cleared the dessert plates as guests began mingling across the floor. By nine-thirty, Mom placed a gentle hand on my arm, stifling a soft yawn.

"I think I need to head upstairs, sweetie," Mom said, smiling tiredly. "My feet are still throbbing from this morning, and tomorrow is going to be a big day."

"I’ll walk you up, Mrs. Bennett," Priya offered immediately, standing up from the table. "I need to wash this makeup off anyway before it ruins my pores."

"Thank you, Priya," Mom said warmly. She turned to Knox, giving his arm a fond squeeze. "Goodnight, Knox. Thank you for dinner."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Bennett. Rest up," Knox replied with a warm, respectful nod.

Bear pushed back his chair, stretching his massive shoulders. "I’m heading down to the sports bar to grab a slice of pizza. Sheridan, Bennett, don’t stay out all night."

Within minutes, our table cleared out, leaving Knox and me alone near the edge of the ballroom.

Soft jazz drifted through the warm room, but the noise of clinking glasses and corporate chatter felt distant.

Knox turned toward me, sliding his large hand comfortably to the small of my back. He looked down at me in my green velvet dress, his eyes burning with that familiar, intense heat.

He leaned close, his mouth brushing the curve of my ear, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

"You’ve been working like crazy all day, Bennett," Knox murmured against my skin. "And we have eleven hours before the ovens turn back on."

I looked up at him, a playful smile touching my lips. "What are you thinking, Sheridan?"

Knox’s mouth curved into a smirk. He reached out and laced his long fingers firmly through mine. "I’m thinking we get the hell out of this ballroom," he whispered. "Come with me."