Chapter 522

Vincent felt a hollow ache inside, laced with bitter irony. He could never father children, yet his mother had already chosen someone else to take his throne. It was exactly the sort of ruthless arrangement Danica excelled at.

Vincent's icy skepticism cut across Danica's polished composure like a blade, stripping away the mask she worked so hard to maintain. She snapped back, her voice sharp with indignation, "Who fed you the notion that you're not my flesh and blood? I nearly died giving birth to you, and you dare throw such words at me?Is it that you no longer wish to recognize me as your mother?"

Her outburst left him drowning once more in that same emptiness and bitter irony. His mouth curved into a cold, almost vicious smile. "If I had the choice, I'd rather you never brought me into this world.Oh-how could I forget? How exactly did you claw your way into the Jones family? You plotted against Dad and schemed your way up the ladder. Without giving him a son, would you ever have secured such a smooth path to wealth?"

"You!" Danica's whole body trembled, her son's merciless words ripping open her most shameful scars. Her composure shattered, and with a sharp crack, her palm struck across Vincent's face.

The resounding slap echoed through the wide, pristine living room.

Nearby, Coyle froze in fright, shrinking against the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

Vincent's head tilted from the blow, a livid handprint blooming swiftly across his cheek. Yet, he showed no anger, no reaction beyond pressing his tongue to the numbed inside of his mouth. He didn't so much as glance at Danica again, his gaze turning to ice. Saying nothing more, he spun around and walked out of the Jones house.

Only after the door closed did Coyle dare approach Danica, his voice shaking. "Danica, did you and Vincent really fall out? If that's the case, then l've got even less of a shot at entering the Jones Group-let alone inheriting it."

Danica's chest rose and fell violently. She clenched her teeth, fury roughening her tone. "Absolutely not. As long as I'm his mother, he wouldn't dare go against me. And if he tries, I'll crush that defiance and make damn sure you get into the Jones Group."

The idea of Vincent truly opposing her was something she refused to accept.

Instead of heading back to the office or Sterling Heights, Vincent drove straight to a discreet, members-only bar. The only thing he craved was alcohol strong enough to quiet the storm in his chest.

Glass after glass of liquor scorched its way down his throat, but the icy hollowness inside him remained untouched. He lost track of how much he had poured back.

Then, a shadow slid into the booth beside him-a familiar figure settling into the seat at his side.

"Why are you here drinking by yourself?" Hannah's voice carried a thread of worry as she stepped closer.Too much time had passed without hearing from him, so in her unease, she called Derek, only to uncover that Vincent was holed up here.

Vincent raised his bloodshot gaze to her in silence before tipping his glass back for another swallow.

Before he could pour again, Hannah laid her hand gently over his, stopping the bottle. "Rough night?" she asked softly.

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. Then, he turned his head, his voice low and gravelly. "Hannah,I only have you and Grandma."

His words were quiet, slurred at the edges, but she caught every syllable. Her chest tightened, an ache pressing beneath her ribs. Something terrible must have erupted at the Jones house-she felt it instinctively.

Instead of prying, she lifted another glass, poured herself a measure of liquor, and tapped it gently against his. "Then I'll drink with you."

Half lost in the haze of alcohol, Vincent let fragments of his heart slip free. "After you left, I hardly went back to the Jones house. I just wanted to stay out of her way. Tonight, when she gave me a glass of warm milk,I actually thought maybe-just maybe-she finally cared."

His laugh came out rough, edged with bitterness. "Turns out it was nothing more than a ploy. She wanted me to give her useless nephew the role of vice president, to groom him as the future heir. Tell me, isn't that the most pathetc joke you've ever heard?"

Hannah understood at once that by"her,"Vincent meant Danica. "So this is where you've come to drown the ache in your chest?" Her words carried a soft edge of concern.

"Not at all." Vincent shook his head, and though his words were slurred, his eyes carried a strange, bitter clarity. "I'm glad. Glad I finally see her for who she really is, and I've stopped fooling myself."

From now on, that mother of his would never wound him again.

When Vincent reached for the wine bottle again, Hannah caught his wrist and pushed it down with quiet insistence."Enough already. You're done for tonight. I'm taking you home."

She slipped an arm under his and half-guided, half-dragged him out of the dim bar, struggling against his unsteady weight all the way back to Sterling Heights.

Once there, Vincent stubbornly refused to head into his own apartment. Instead, he trailed after her,insisting on climbing the stairs to her apartment.

At her door, Hannah turned, exasperated but trying to reason with him. "Vincent, we're not even officially together yet,and you're already trying to move in with me? What exactly are you trying to say by that?"