Rise To Power: Death To My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 25: Caught In A Lioness’ Den

Eleanor’s voice rang out again. "My son’s been so happy lately. I haven’t seen him this happy in years. And it makes my heart lighter." She said cheerfully.

"Oh, Aunty, I’m so glad to hear that." Linda chuckled. "Perhaps, he finally had time to relax after years of his hard work for the company paid off." Her voice was smooth, clear, and a little too loud to be in a VIP area.

But she didn’t care. Her words were meant to be heard by her perceived rival sitting a few tables away.

Eleanor Blackwood, who was still oblivious to Anita’s presence, and Linda’s subtle manipulation, waved her hand. "What are you saying? Don’t be so polite. How are you going to fair in this world of ours if you keep..." she began, but her voice faltered.

At that moment, the head of the restaurant appeared, leading two servers who pushed a silver-plated food trolley into the VIP section.

Victor Vincent.

The Victor.

Owner of Sapphire Bistro. A culinary genius, yet a ghost in his own kitchen. It was said he only entered it once in a blue moon, and when he did, it was to prepare a meal for someone untouchable. For the lucky few deemed worthy, it was not just a meal, it was a declaration of status, power, and almost divine favor.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Victor’s presence meant someone in this room had just been honored beyond all expectations.

She hasn’t bothered looking around because the place was empty and she was used to people currying favors with her.

Her eyes followed him, her curious smile faltering as she twisted slightly in her seat to see who could command such treatment.

Then her eyes landed on Anita’s back.

And in that moment, Eleanor Blackwood’s entire body stiffened like she’d just swallowed a shard of glass. Her spine snapped upright, and her voice...oh, her lovely, too loud, and treacherous ungrateful voice died a quiet death in her throat.

Eleanor Blackwood prayed, hoping against hope that the woman a few tables away from her wasn’t her daughter-in-law. But hell no, that was Anita. Anita was the only young woman she knew, who could pull off such effortless air of authority without even trying. Only she could make a room fall silent just by being in it. The only young woman who could make your heart pound faster than a war drum, when you’re on her bad side.

And the bitter truth? She was jealous of that effortless control. She wished, no, ached to possess even half of it. Half of that unspoken dominance, that silent magnetism that made people lower their eyes or straighten their backs when Anita walked into a room. Eleanor had spent years learning to be like Anita...to be Anita but failed miserably.

Eleanor might have been a big person in the city, but she knew, unfortunately, that Anita was whom they respected. It was Anita White they feared, not Eleanor Blackwood.

And right now, she wished that person in white, spotting blonde Bob wasn’t her daughter-in-law...

As if on cue, Victor arrived beside her table, bowing calmly with a polite smile and respectful bearing while the servers arranged Anita’s dish on the table.

"Mrs. Blackwood, welcome back to our establishment. The restaurant is..."

Thud.

Eleanor Blackwood’s heart dropped into her stomach. She didn’t hear anything else. Her mind had descended into panic, one close enough to giving her a heart attack.

Meanwhile, Anita felt the shift in the air. The sudden silence from the tables behind her. And she could literally scent the smell of fear mixed with the fragrance of freshly cooked food and rich perfume but she didn’t turn. She was coldly unbothered.

Victor, a tall man in a tailored suit with silver hair and impeccable posture, offered her a deep nod of respect to something she said. His voice was warm but deferential.

"Should you need anything at all," he continued, "my team and I are entirely at your service."

Anita gave him a curt, regal, and polite nod, then unfolded her napkin and draped it across her lap with all the calm in the world. Like her mother-in-law wasn’t a few tables behind hers, with her husband’s mistress.

"Thank you, Mr. Vincent."

"If you may excuse us," Victor concluded, stepping back with a slight bow before turning away, his presence melting into the background as effortlessly as he had appeared.

Eleanor didn’t blink. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table, a battle of horror coursing through her veins.

Linda leaned closer, pretending to be oblivious and concerned. "Is everything alright, Aunty? You look a little... pale."

Eleanor didn’t answer. Her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth. Her mind scrambled for explanations, excuses, damage control but nothing stuck.

The woman was worried. Did Anita hear her? If she did, how much did she hear? How would she explain her connection with Linda, David’s employee?

Anita wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t believe any lie she spewed, and worse, Anita pretended not to know she was also here. It could only mean that Anita already knew everything.

Eleanor clutched her purse a little too tightly, her fingers digging into the leather like a lifeline. The air suddenly felt like poison, every intake cutting through her organs.

She had to do something as soon as possible!

Meanwhile, Anita lifted her fork with delicate ease, cutting into the exquisitely plated dish as though she had the leisure of a queen at court. Not once did she glance backward. Not once did she need to.

Because she knew exactly what her silence would do to them.

And it was killing them.

As for Linda, seeing the state Eleanor was in, it irritated and annoyed her to no end. She couldn’t understand why Anita was worshiped, feared, and respected when she was merely spending David’s hard-earned money.

So what if Anita was from the White family, didn’t she cut ties with her family? So, why was she still getting all this reverence? Why were people still bending over backward for her like she was the real deal?

Linda’s jaw clenched. Fine. She’d prove to this woman why she shouldn’t be so scared of Anita. If Anita was so powerful, why didn’t she throw a feat when she came into her house and even went away with sucking her husband’s dock, right in her living room.

Linda wanted to scoff.

She rose from her seat, "Aunty, I’ll talk to her."

Before Eleanor could stop her, Linda was already making her way there. Eleanor’s mouth opened, about to protest, but no words came out.

Consumed with panic, she fumbled for her phone to call David.