Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154 

Bryce’s gaze turned frosty as he faced off with Ludwik, whose influence was as vast as the ocean. But Bryce was not one to be easily daunted. “If that day comes, may the best man win,” he declared with a steely resolve. And with that, he left. 

Standing in the elevator, Ludwik fixed a hawk–like store on the back of Bryce’s head. Felix could feel the chill emanating from his boss, a clear sign that his mood had soured even further. 

Rivalry in love, a tangled situation with Whitney–what a mess. 

As the elevator doors slid shut, Elaine emerged from the shadows. She watched Ludwik descend, then turned her thoughtful gaze toward Bryce. 

Was Bryce truly this taken with Whitney? 

A cold smirk played on Elaine’s lips as she dialed her assistant. “The investigation I asked you to conduct on Whitney’s whereabouts last night–what have you found?” 

Whitney had rushed to the police station soaking wet that morning–certainly not a regular occurrence. 

Ludwik, in his fury, had overlooked the details. 

The assistant replied, “Elaine, I’ve discovered that Bryce helped Whitney sneak into the hospital to save Braxton. Later, Bryce was drugged by a rival, and Whitney rushed to his hotel. They were trapped together until the morning.” 

What? 

Elaine’s face paled. Whitney had saved Braxton? 

She knew the bid fiasco had something to do with Whitney’s uncle, but she had not anticipated Whitney secretly aiding Ludwik! 

“Make sure to erase any trace of Whitney’s visit to the hospital.” Elaine could not let him discover that Whitney had helped him in secret. 

Elaine’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Find out if there are any photos or videos of what Bryce and Whitney got up to in the hotel.” 

If Ludwik found out, Whitney’s fate would be sealed. 

But Elaine was in no hurry. Whitney was already on a path of no return with an uncle like that. Elaine would simply bide her time by Ludwik’s side, waiting for the right moment. 

At nightfall, Whitney returned to Banyan City from the South City, alone and without a place to go except to Tiana’s apartment. 

No sooner had she stepped through the door than her body collapsed to the floor, her stomach churning with anxiety. 

Fearing another fever might harm the baby, Whitney mustered the strength to take a herbal bath. However, exhaustion took over, and she fell into a deep slumber. 

When Tiana returned later that night, she found Whitney unconscious in the now icy bathwater, her phone clutched in her hand, frozen on the news page of United Realty Corporation. 

The loss of the tender was significant news in the business world, and Tiana, ever in the know, had heard about it. 

With a sigh, Tiana helped Whitney out of the bath, whispering urgently, “Whitney? Get dressed before you catch 

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a cold again.” 

Whitney’s eyes fluttered open, her volce hoarse, “What time is it?” 

“It’s nearly midnight. Look, I know about the tender–it was your project. Data errors happen; don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

Whitney’s eyes fell, bitter and sorrowful. Tiana did not grasp the entire situation–how could Whitney not blame herself? 

“L’s situation was dangerous, but thank goodness Braxton is okay. He’s not giving you a hard time, is he?” Tiana worried about Whitney’s return to her apartment, fearing her relationship with L might have worsened. 

Whitney remained silent, unsure of what to say. 

Tiana helped her up, softly touching her belly. “The baby’s growing. Just put up with Elaine, that little thorn in your side. You’ve got to think about the child who’s about to be bom.” 

Whitney stiffened. Because of her uncle, there was no turning back. 

Unaware, Tiana continued, “You’ve been so out of sorts lately, you probably don’t even know tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve. I have to head back to my home tonight, and you…” 

Whitney, forcing a smile, interrupted, “Go be with your parents. I’ll be fine here.” 

Tiana hesitated, then asked, “Aren’t you returning to L’s villa? It’s your first New Year together.” 

Whitney felt a sharp pang in her heart, biting her lip to hold back tears. She clutched her clothes, eyes fixed on the ground, “There’s no chance… Tiana.” 

Seeing Whitney’s pale face, Tiana’s heart sank, and she said no more. 

Was it possible L had not called her? Tiana dared not probe further, fearing it would bring Whitney to tears. 

After staying with Whitney for a little while, Tiana had to leave for the morning prayers. 

Whitney remained in the bedroom, sitting in solitude until dawn. 

New Year’s Eve had come, with it, snow began to fall, each flake as cold as the loneliness in her heart. 

Her absence from the villa was a statement he would surely understand. 

The phone rang at the most inopportune moment. Whitney glanced at it, stunned to see the villa’s number. 

Her heart trembled, knowing it must be Natalie calling. 

With a tight grip, she answered, “Mom…” 

Natalie’s voice, tinged with worry, said, “Whitney, it’s such an important day. Why aren’t you here?” 

Whitney could not speak, her lips sealed. 

Natalie continued, a hint of concern in her laughter. “I remember you two were fine when that rascal was hospitalized. I’ve been recuperating in my place these days. Have you two had a silly quarrel again? Come back, dear. It’s our family’s first New Year’s together. We can’t be without you and the little one.” 

Tears fell onto Whitney’s knees, silent yet profound. 

Natalie gently coaxed, “There’s no misunderstanding that can’t be resolved. Come home, and we’ll sort it out. I’ll stand by you.” 

“Mom…” Whitney had long since regarded the lovely Natalie as a second mother. 

Her heart was a mix of warmth and agony. She could not believe that someone with such a wonderful mother could have hurt her mother all those years ago. 

“He means it too, you know. He might not say it, but Whitney, we’re waiting for you,” Natalie soothed. 

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Did he mean it? Did he want her to come home? 

Whitney’s heartbeats quickened, a mix of unrest and desolation. 

Maybe today marked an ending 

Was he asking her to come back just to break things off? 

Whitney pondered, feeling hollow. If so, she would rather face him head–on, even as an adversary. 

Regardless, Natalie’s health was deteriorating, and Whitney had to play her part to soothe the old lady’s 

worries. 

He probably had the same idea. 

Taking a deep breath, Whitney composed herself, applied a light layer of makeup to mask her pallid complexion, dressed, and drove off. 

Standing before the grand estate gates, a layer of soft snow blanketed the fence, her breath forming wisps of white mist in the cold air. 

Whitney was momentarily lost in thought as her facial recognition triggered the gates to open automatically. 

With a troubled heart, she stepped inside. The familiar living room seemed to be filled with Ludwik’s masculine presence. 

Natalie was sitting on the sofa, monitoring her blood pressure. Whitney’s gaze flitted about, seemingly not noticing him. 

“Whitney!” Natalie called out to her softly, naturally smiling as she pointed towards the kitchen. “Good to have you back, dear. We’re preparing a New Year’s Eve dinner. The house feels empty with only a few of us. We had a plan, you know. Everyone has to make a dish.” 

The atmosphere was quiet and harmonious, and Natalie seemed in good spirits. 

Whitney forced a smile and rolled up her sleeves to wash her hands, moving into the kitchen in tune with Natalie’s wishes. “What would you like to eat, Mom? I’ll make it.” 

“My appetite is not great,” Natalie said weakly but with a smile. “Just make some of the boy’s favorite dishes.” 

Whitney paused for a moment. His favorites? Celery, steamed pork ribs, cucumber and shrimp salad, and mushroom chicken soup–all without a hint of spice. He preferred them light. 

She had not realized she had memorized these little details. 

A heaviness seemed to settle in her chest once more. She exhaled slowly and said softly. “Taryn, let’s start with the mushroom chicken soup.” 

“Sure, Sir loves it,” Taryn replied with a smile, beginning to slice the chicken. 

Whitney was cleaning the mushrooms, wondering whether to blanch them or add them directly to the pot, when she was enveloped by a familiar, frosty scent–the unmistakable aroma of the man who had long since burrowed into her senses, with his imposing presence. 

Then, a warmth pressed against her as he spoke from above her head, “You’re not exactly a chef.” 

Chapter 155