Rise To Power: Death To My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 29: My World

Less than a minute later...

Nadia, a prim and proper lady stood before the manager’s desk.

"Ms. Anita White just laid a formal complaint. I want a review of our VIP access protocols. Immediate. Get me the guest logs. Pull security footage. And have our legal team check every clause in our confidentiality agreements. If there’s a loophole anyone can use, I want it closed before they can think about exploring it."

There was a pause. "White?" Nadia repeated slowly. "You mean Mrs. Anita Blackwood?"

"No," he said grimly. "I mean White. She corrected the name herself."

Silence.

That was Nadia connecting the dots. After a moment, she nodded calmly. "Understood," she replied. "I’ll get everything ready."

He paused and inhaled loudly. "Again, Revoke Mrs. Eleanor Blackwood’s VIP access privileges until further notice," he finished, voice like a gavel. "Effective immediately."

She visibly flinched. "But sir, she’s—"

"I know who she is," the manager cut in sharply with a hiss. "And I also know who Anita White is. If there’s even a whisper of this incident making its way into the gossip columns, we won’t just lose her, we’ll lose half our high-profile clientele who orbit her. And the Whites too."

"Okay sir." She turned. But just as she was about to leave, he stopped her.

"And this, Nadia, is confidential. If Ms. White wants the world to know, she would have held a press conference. Be district about this. We won’t be the whistle-blower."

Nadia bowed and walked out for James to come in.

"Sir, you asked for me." The young man said.

He’s the senior floor coordinator.

"From now on, no guest is to be allowed into a reserved VIP section without explicit, double-checked authorization from the host. I don’t care if it’s their mother, their priest, or the Queen of Greenville."

"Yes, sir."

"And one more thing," he added, his tone dropping. "From this day forward, address her correctly. No more Mrs. Blackwood. It’s Ms. White. Clear?"

The staff didn’t need to ask who he was referring to. There’s only one White family who could afford a meal in the VIP section of this establishment, even more so, a White who bears Blackwood – Anita White.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now move. I want this buried and cleaned up before dinner service."

As they left, the manager stood by the window, watching the city buzz below. He’d survived a lot in this industry — scandals, celebrity tantrums, and the kind of lawsuits that turned men gray overnight.

But a silent warning from Anita White?

That was something no sane person would ever ignore.

He walked back to his desk, took his personal phone and called Victor, explaining what had just happened.

"You did well," Victor said, reclining calmly on a couch inside his office, a glass of red wine twirling on his fingers. "Send someone to get me flowers –orchids, white ones– and have Chef Marco prepare ingredients for a full atonement course. No red meat, no onion, no dairy. I’ll prepare the meal myself and hand-deliver it."

The manager blinked but didn’t ask questions. "As you wish."

....

Meanwhile, on the highway, Anita, who had flicked a flicker of flame into a warehouse filled with gasoline–and never expected it to ignite such a massive chain reaction miles away–settled into her SUV with cool calm.

She tapped her fingers lightly on the steering wheel, eyes distant but sharp, calculating her next move.

She hoped Tessa and Lilly wouldn’t prove to be cowards; they were not her last, but her first options. If they didn’t dare take a step toward her, she’d erase them from her mind and move straight to plan B.

But unfortunately, plan A was still her safest bet.

Suddenly, a name flashed across the screen of her car’s dashboard.

Incoming Call: My World.

Her jaw tightened.

The endearing label felt like a cruel joke now. My World. The name she’d once saved with love, pride, even vulnerability. A title no one else ever got, not even her parents.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

She didn’t answer right away.

The phone rang twice more, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. Then, with a breath so shallow it barely moved her chest, she clicked her ear bud into place and answered with a crisp,

"David?"

"Are you home?"

"Not yet," Anita replied. "I’m stopping by the mall. Want me to get you something?"

His silence stretched, thick with guilt, perhaps. Or suspicion. Either way, Anita didn’t flinch. She kept her gaze on the road, and wished that silence between them would stretch for eternity. The sound of his voice irked her to no end.

"My mom told me what happened at the restaurant..." he paused. "About you and Linda."

"What about it?"

He took a deep breath, "I’m sorry that happened. She shouldn’t have disrespected you but she had no idea how things worked with you. She’s carefree and—"

Anita’s heart squeezed so tight she almost couldn’t breathe but her expression remained a mask of calm as she quietly cut him off.

"Perhaps, you’d prefer we have this conversation when I’m not driving, David."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, a quiet sigh. "That bad, huh? Okay. I’ll come home tonight."

"What would you want to eat?" she asked, like she didn’t want to slice off his dick and serve it diced over Saffron basmati rice with a glass of his mother’s blood and a side dish of silence.

He hesitated, unsure now. "I don’t know...whatever you feel like making."

"It’s been a while since you last ate at home. How about your favorite?" she asked calmly, turning a corner.

David chuckled nervously. "Which one? You know I’ve got a few."

"The one you always asked for when you came home late," she said, her voice smooth as silk over steel. "Roasted duck with glazed pears and that wild rice blend. I’ll even make the sauce you like. The one with wine."

"That... sounds perfect. I’ll be home soon."