Chapter 130 An Offer Left Open
Professor Sterling stood near the open doorway, resting one palm heavily against the wooden frame. His face was tight with cold impatience, and his sharp eyes darted around the room as if he could not stand to spend another second inside.
"What now?" he asked, his voice filled with annoyance.
Veyra took a few steps toward him. Her movements were slow, steady, and completely deliberate.
"You walked in here and listened exclusively to Xiomara’s side of the story," Veyra said, her tone calm but heavy with judgment. "You came all the way here without taking a single moment to find out the actual truth. You barged into Mr. Wynn’s private dinner. You threatened him using your academic connections. You tried to use your authority to push him around and intimidate him."
Professor Sterling’s jaw tightened instantly. The color began to creep back into his neck.
"You owe Mr. Wynn a real apology," Veyra said, looking him straight in the eye.
Professor Sterling’s mouth literally dropped open in shock. "Excuse me?"
"You heard what I said," Veyra replied, not backing down an inch. "Apologize to Mr. Wynn."
Professor Sterling’s face flushed a deep, ugly red. "I am most certainly not going to—"
"Yes, you are," Veyra cut in, her voice flat and unyielding. "You stormed right into his private dining room. You made arrogant demands. You insulted the people sitting at his table. You made empty threats. Honestly, you are lucky he did not just call security and have you physically thrown out onto the street."
Professor Sterling’s fingers trembled against the doorframe. He glared at her, his voice trembling with cold rage. "I will not lower myself to apologize to a common gang leader."
Wesley let out a smooth, quiet laugh from his place at the head of the table. "A gang leader?"
"That is precisely what you are," the professor spat back.
"I am a legitimate businessman," Wesley said pleasant tone, taking a sip from his glass. "A very successful businessman. And one with very powerful, influential friends."
Professor Sterling’s red face suddenly drained back to a sickly pale tone.
Veyra kept her gaze fixed on the older man. "Professor. Apologize."
Professor Sterling stood completely frozen near the door.
His cheeks were still burning with embarrassment, and his hands were shaking at his sides. Every single drop of his stubborn academic pride was screaming at him to turn around and walk away without saying a word.
But deep down, he knew he did not have a choice anymore. He had rushed into this place blindly without checking his facts. He had made loud threats that he could not back up. He had completely ruined his own reputation and made a total fool of himself in front of high-level people.
He closed his eyes for a second and forced himself to take a deep breath.
When he opened them, his voice was stiff and completely devoid of warmth. "I apologize. For interrupting your meal. For the threats I made. For all of it."
Wesley smiled casually from his seat. "Accepted."
Professor Sterling let out a tight breath and turned around, ready to finally escape the room.
"Just one more thing before you go," Wesley called out.
Professor Sterling stopped in his tracks, his posture going rigid.
Wesley stood up from the table and walked over toward the door. His steps were completely unhurried, and he kept a pleasant, polite expression on his face.
"Your Ravenwood Society VIP Card card," Wesley said smoothly. "I am going to need that back right now."
Professor Sterling turned his head slowly, his skin turning paper white. "What?"
"You heard me clearly," Wesley said, stopping a few feet away. "The VIP membership card. I want it back."
Professor Sterling’s whole body seemed to shake. "Do you have any idea what that card gives me access to? That card grants me—"
"It gives you entry into our most exclusive private events," Wesley interrupted softly. "It gives you our protection. It gives you social status among the elite." Wesley’s friendly smile vanished, replaced by a flat, cold look. "And as of this second, I am officially revoking it."
Professor Sterling gasped, his chest heaving. "You cannot just do that!"
"I can do whatever I want with my organization, and I am doing it right now," Wesley replied, reaching out an open hand. "The card, please."
Professor Sterling’s eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for anyone who might jump in and defend him. But nobody said a word. The entire room remained dead silent.
Defeated, the professor reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. His fingers were shaking so badly he could barely grip the thin plastic.
He pulled out a sleek, matte-black card. The edges were lined with polished gold, and a raised symbol was stamped onto the front surface.
With extreme hesitation, he placed it into Wesley’s open palm.
Wesley took the card, glanced down at it for a brief moment, and then calmly slid it into his own pocket.
"Thank you very much," Wesley said politely.
Professor Sterling stood there looking completely ruined. His face was ghostly pale and his shoulders slouched. Without another word, he turned on his heel and hurried out into the hallway.
Xiomara and Caspian did not linger either. They quickly shuffled out right behind him, keeping their heads low to avoid eye contact with anyone.
The heavy door swung shut behind them, cutting off the noise from the hallway.
The dining room went completely quiet once again.
Wesley turned around to look at Veyra. His eyes were bright with deep amusement, and he had a genuine, impressed smile on his face.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said, stepping closer. "You really are remarkable."
Veyra raised one eyebrow slightly, keeping her composure. "Am I?"
"You just made a complete fool out of Professor Sterling," Wesley said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You exposed Xiomara’s entire plan. You forced two extremely arrogant people to bow their heads and apologize to you." He shook his head again. "You single-handedly brought that proud old man right down to his knees today."
Veyra stood her ground and said nothing, waiting for him to finish.
"I have to say, I am deeply impressed," Wesley continued, his tone turning serious and appreciative. "You have immense courage. You have sharp intelligence. You possess the rare ability to look at a chaotic situation and take total control of it."
Veyra looked at him calmly. "Is there an actual point to all these compliments, Mr. Wynn?"
Wesley threw his head back and laughed out loud.
He took a couple of steps closer to her, his posture relaxed.
"Let me ask you one more time," he said, looking at her intently. "The position of vice leader in our organization. I would really like you to reconsider my offer."
Veyra shook her head without taking even a second to think about it. "My answer has not changed at all."
"Are you completely sure about that?"
"I am entirely sure," she said firmly.
Wesley studied her face closely for a few seconds. His eyes were sharp, curious, and filled with deep thought.
"In that case, let me make you a slightly different offer," he said. "Do not accept the position today. But do not permanently reject it either."
Veyra blinked, caught off guard for a split second. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Take one full year," Wesley explained, spreading his hands. "Focus entirely on your new business partnership with Xavier Lala. Build up your company. Secure your own future and create your own legacy." He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "And if, after twelve months have passed, you happen to change your mind, the doors to the Ravenwood Club will still be wide open for you."
Veyra stared back at him, processing the offer carefully.
"One year," she repeated quietly.
"Exactly one year," Wesley said with a warm smile. "I consider myself a very patient man. I am more than willing to wait for the right person."
Veyra remained completely silent for a long moment, weighing her options in her mind.
Finally, she gave a slow, simple nod.
"Alright," she said. "We can agree to one year."
Wesley extended his right hand toward her. "Then it sounds like we have a deal."
Veyra reached out and took his hand, giving it a firm shake.
His grip was surprisingly warm and strong.
"One year," he stated again, releasing her hand. "No pressure from me or heavy expectations. Just an open door waiting for you whenever you are ready."