Chapter 246: You Said It, So It Is

Chapter 246: You Said It, So It Is

Elias ended the call and opened the rideshare app.

He compared the two options in front of him.

Fastest pickup.

Lowest fare.

He tapped Lowest Fare without hesitation.

[System Theta: Aren’t you going there urgently?]

"I am going urgently," Elias said. "But arriving one minute later or ten minutes later makes no real difference, does it?"

[System Theta: I think it does.]

Elias did not share that concern.

Sloane had sounded as if the ceiling were collapsing. Naomi was running her mouth. Giselle had already hit something hard enough to make the call shake. But none of that changed the basic calculation. The fight had begun without him. It would either continue until he arrived or end before he got there. Spending more on a car would not magically turn him into a disaster-response team.

Five minutes later, a compact sedan finally pulled up to the curb.

Elias slid into the back seat.

The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Four-seven-two-one?"

"Mm."

Once she had confirmation, the driver pulled away from the curb and joined the late-night traffic.

For the first few blocks, neither of them spoke.

Elias leaned back, his phone resting loose in his hand. The city passed by in alternating bands of neon, shuttered storefronts, liquor signs, and the occasional all-night diner glowing too brightly through its windows. The ride was not fast. It was not particularly comfortable. More than once, the driver had to brake for pedestrians wandering across the street without looking.

None of it bothered him.

Then the driver clicked her tongue.

"Kid, don’t take this the wrong way. Money comes and goes. Wealth is temporary, and most of it belongs to someone else anyway. Education is different. Skills are different. Credentials stay with you. They’re yours. You understand?"

Elias stared at the back of her seat.

Then he understood.

It was late. He was a pretty young man traveling alone toward The Pinnacle Club, the city’s largest nightlife and entertainment complex. He had a stack of money in the bank, a black card in his pocket, and the sort of face that made strangers assume a wealthy woman had paid for his night.

The driver had decided he was one of the boys who worked private rooms.

Her concern was genuine enough that he could not bring himself to be annoyed.

"Thank you," Elias said with a soft laugh. "But I’m actually going to break up a fight."

The driver’s hands tightened around the wheel.

"A fight?" she repeated. "Do you want me to drive faster?"

"No." Elias looked down and idly traced one finger over the other. "Safety first."

The driver fell silent.

On the way, Sloane called again.

And again.

And again.

Elias answered each time with the same answer.

"I’m almost there."

Sloane did not believe him. She had heard that phrase enough times to know it meant nothing. To her, every minute sounded worse than the last. There were crashes in the background, sharp voices, Naomi swearing like she had never heard of consequences, and Giselle speaking so little that the silence around her became the frightening part.

Almost there did not mean almost there.

It sounded more like someone might be almost dead.

At last, the rideshare stopped at the curb near the rear entrance of The Pinnacle Club.

Sloane was already outside.

The instant she saw Elias step out of the car, she hurried toward him.

"You..." The curse nearly came out on reflex. Sloane swallowed it when she saw the concern on his face. He looked anxious, lips pressed together and eyes wide behind his glasses. "Never mind. Why did you take so long?"

She reached for his hand.

Elias avoided the grab without any visible effort, moving half a step aside as if he had simply missed it.

Sloane paused.

Then she seemed to realize what she had done. She was too frantic to care much, but the awkwardness flashed across her expression. Elias was supposedly terrified about Giselle. He was supposedly in a rush. Yet he had still calmly avoided being pulled around like luggage.

The thought vanished as quickly as it came.

"Come on," she said, waving hard for him to follow. "Hurry."

Elias jogged after her.

He could have teased Sloane for the way she looked ready to tear out her own hair. He could have asked whether the furniture had lost yet. But Sloane was not a target. Sending her into a full panic would not increase a score, unlock a route, or buy him anything worth having.

So he spared her.

Sloane’s breathing eased a fraction when she saw him keeping pace.

As they cut through a quieter corridor, she looked back at him. "The second you see them, you need to stop them."

Elias rolled his eyes where she could not see.

Stop them?

Was she asking him to stand between Giselle and Naomi like the meat in a sandwich? He had standards. Very low standards sometimes, but not that low.

Sloane continued, "Then explain to Giselle that Naomi wasn’t the one who touched you."

Elias did not answer.

Sloane turned sharply, her temper flashing. "Did you hear me?"

He gave her a glance and nodded.

For some reason, his calm response made Sloane angrier.

He looked worried enough. His face had the right amount of tension. But something about him felt detached, as if he were watching the situation from a safe distance instead of being at the center of it.

"I seriously do not understand," she said through clenched teeth. "Giselle Frost and Naomi Vale. One is a Frost heiress, and the other is the Vale family’s second daughter. How did they end up fighting over something like this?"

The insult inside the question was not subtle.

What could a young man like Elias possibly have that made two women from those families argue, let alone tear into each other?

She did not say it outright. She did not have to.

Elias understood perfectly.

He almost smiled.

If he were in the mood to spend time around Sloane, he could probably arrange for her to join the argument too. Not because he needed another woman’s interest, but because Sloane’s obvious irritation had the early signs of someone far too invested in a situation she claimed to despise.

Fortunately for her, he had better things to do.

They reached a private suite at the end of the corridor.

It was large, expensive, and empty except for the three women inside.

No employees remained.

That was sensible. Even Sloane could not expect staff to step between two wealthy heirs who were actively fighting. The workers had likely been sent away before anyone could witness the embarrassing details. They had no business seeing either woman with blood on her mouth and her clothes pulled out of place.

Elias looked up.

Giselle and Naomi both bore marks from the fight.

Giselle usually carried herself with obsessive neatness. Even on campus, she looked as though the world had not earned the right to wrinkle her clothes or disturb a hair on her head. Now her silver hair had come loose, several strands falling across her forehead. One thin lock was stuck to the corner of her mouth by blood.

Naomi looked no better.

Elias gave her one glance, then decided he had seen enough.

Neither woman looked like a polished heiress now. They looked like two people who had stopped caring how they appeared because anger had become more important.

Naomi noticed him first.

Her brows pulled together.

Then she looked at Sloane. "Why did you bring him here?"

Sloane stared at her.

The question was so stupid that for a moment she had no answer.

What relationship did Naomi have with Elias that gave her the right to ask it? And why would she say it in front of Giselle after spending the last hour throwing gasoline on every word between them?

Sloane nearly cursed again.

Elias did not respond to Naomi.

He kept his attention on Giselle.

Giselle had not said a word since he entered. She stood still with a bruised mouth, her shoulders tense, and her eyes fixed on Naomi with a coldness that made the room feel smaller.

Sloane let out a heavy breath.

"Why did I bring him?" she said. "Because if I didn’t bring him here, you two would have kept fighting until somebody needed an ambulance. He’s the person involved. There has to be some misunderstanding. Sit down, calm down, and let him explain."

Naomi laughed.

Her lip had split. The motion pulled at the wound, and she hissed from the pain, but her expression stayed defiant.

"Misunderstanding my ass," she said. "There is no misunderstanding. I had someone sleep with Elias. So what?"

The declaration landed like a match.

Giselle stepped forward at once and seized Naomi by the front of her clothes.

Naomi did not flinch. She leaned in instead, daring Giselle to make it worse.

"Go on," Naomi said. "Hit me."

Naomi had spent too long insisting she had nothing to do with Elias. Giselle had not believed her. Fine. If every denial turned into another accusation, then she would claim it. She would say she had done it and see whether Giselle was brave enough to keep coming.

Giselle’s fist rose.

"Elias!"

Sloane shouted his name.

"Stop."

Elias spoke at last.

The two words were quiet.

Giselle froze.

Her fist remained suspended near Naomi’s face.

Elias’s expression was difficult to read. His eyes held too many things at once: unease, reluctance, a thread of guilt, the look of someone who wanted to say more but had no strength to do it.

Finally, he said, "It wasn’t her. Let go of her."

Giselle did not release Naomi.

She did not even look at Elias.

For the first time since he entered the room, she spoke.

Her voice was low.

"You know who it was."