Chapter 184 Love Rival

Chapter 184: Chapter 184 Love Rival

​The restaurant interior was warm, filled with the soft clinking of silverware and background jazz music.

​Veyra stood perfectly still near the hostess stand, her thick admission letter still held firmly in her hand. The doorway leading to the private dining area was right behind her, and the tall woman in the expensive designer dress was slowly walking toward it.

​Naya Whitmore.

​Veyra didn’t know her name yet, nor did she know her background. However, she could plainly feel the sharp hostility radiating off the woman, heavy and intense like the heat rising from an open flame.

​She was completely certain she had never met this woman before in her life. Yet the way Naya had just looked at her, with cold, dismissive eyes full of sudden hatred, made a uncomfortable knot form in her stomach.

​Veyra shook her head slightly, trying to clear her mind. She told herself that she was probably just overthinking things because of how exhausted and stressed she was from her morning.

​She turned back to face the young hostess behind the podium. "Is there really no other table available on the main floor?"

​The hostess offered an apologetic smile and shook her head. "I am so sorry, ma’am. We are fully booked for the entire lunch rush."

​Leon stepped up beside her, his tall frame blocking her from the crowd.

​His eyes were locked tightly onto Naya’s retreating figure, his posture tense and alert. His right hand instinctively hovered near the edge of his tailored suit jacket.

​"Mrs. Thorne," Leon murmured in a low, careful tone. "That woman over there is Naya Whitmore."

​Veyra blinked in confusion, looking up at him. "You recognize her?"

​"She is the daughter of Councilor Whitmore," Leon explained softly. "She has been aggressively pursuing Mr. Thorne for several years now."

​Veyra felt her blood run cold at his words.

​Naya Whitmore. That was the name Dorian had mentioned before, the prominent socialite he had used as a simple buffer to keep other persistent suitors away from him.

​She turned her gaze back toward Naya, taking in the full sight of her tailored designer dress, her perfectly styled dark hair, and her arrogant stance.

​This was the woman who was obsessed with Dorian.

​This was the woman standing directly in front of her as a romantic rival.

​Naya suddenly paused right at the grand entrance of the private dining room.

​She slowly turned around on her high heels, her cold eyes sweeping deliberately over Veyra’s simple clothes, then over the nervous hostess, and finally landing on Leon.

​Her voice cut sharply through the quiet atmosphere of the foyer. "That private room belongs to me. I personally reserved it."

​The hostess bowed her head repeatedly, stammering out a quick response. "Yes, of course, Ms. Whitmore! I am deeply sorry for any mix-up at the front desk."

​"There was no mix-up on my end," Naya stated coldly, tilting her chin up. "I booked this room in advance, and I expect it to be ready for my guests the second I step through the door."

​"It is completely ready for you, ma’am. Right this way," the hostess assured her hurriedly.

​A young waiter stepped forward from the hallway, looking visibly flustered. His eyes shifted back and forth between Veyra and Naya as he assessed the situation.

​He took a quick look at Veyra’s plain attire, noting her practical outfit and lack of flash. Then his gaze moved to Naya’s head-to-toe luxury label coat and diamond earrings.

​He made his choice in an instant.

​"Ms. Whitmore," the waiter said with a fake, overly polite smile. "Your private dining suite is set up and waiting for you."

​Veyra took a step forward, keeping her voice steady. "Excuse me, but I was standing here speaking to the staff first."

​The waiter blinked, looking slightly annoyed by her interruption. "Pardon me?"

​"I arrived at the stand before she did," Veyra pointed out clearly. "I was in the middle of inquiring about the private room."

​The waiter shifted his weight uncomfortably, his tone turning dismissive. "I am sorry, ma’am, but Ms. Whitmore holds a priority booking with us."

​"I was trying to reserve it myself just now," Veyra said. "I simply didn’t get the chance to finish my request before—"

​"You didn’t secure the space in a timely manner," the waiter cut her off firmly, his attitude growing colder by the second. "The room is no longer open for discussion."

​Veyra stared straight at the young waiter in disbelief.

​A sudden wave of heat rushed to her face while her hands trembled with frustration.

​She had been completely polite throughout the entire interaction. She had waited her turn quietly, kept her voice down, and avoided causing any sort of scene in a public establishment.

​Yet she was being blatantly set aside and ignored simply because she chose to wear simple clothing, because she didn’t carry a luxury title, and because she wasn’t Naya Whitmore.

​She looked directly at the waiter’s smug face and observed the way he turned his shoulder away from her to flatter the wealthy heiress.

​She recognized exactly what was happening here. The waiter was abusing his small authority, openly favoring a powerful patron because of her money, status, and family background.

​Veyra’s jaw set firm. She decided right then and there that she was not going to back down and let them trample over her dignity.

​Naya turned back around and let out a light, mocking laugh. Her lips curled into a thin, cold smile of complete triumph.

​She looked down her nose at Veyra, her sharp voice suddenly rising loud enough to carry across the entire front dining section.

​"You can play whatever games you want," Naya declared, her tone echoing off the walls. "Sooner or later, I will take Dorian away from you for good."

​The busy restaurant seemed to fall into an instant silence.

​Conversations at nearby tables abruptly stopped as diners turned their heads to watch the drama unfold. The hostess froze in mid-step, and the waiter took a cautious step backward, realizing things were turning ugly.

​Veyra stood her ground, her dark eyes staring directly into Naya’s face.

​Naya’s mocking smile grew even wider. "Do you honestly think you have won just because you are staying in his house? You think you own him? You don’t. He belongs with me. He has always belonged with me, and I am going to take back what is mine."

​Veyra’s thoughts ran fast as she absorbed the public challenge.

​Naya Whitmore, the persistent suitor who had been chasing Dorian for years. The socialite he had casually used as a barrier against other women. The person who clearly viewed her as an unwanted pest standing in the way of her high-society dreams.

​Veyra had never spoken a word to Naya before today, yet Naya had clearly been tracking her moves, waiting for the right moment to humiliate her face-to-face.

​Veyra’s initial plan for the day had been simple and peaceful. She wanted to avoid all unnecessary conflict, stay far away from Dorian’s complicated past, and focus entirely on her own independent goals, her milk tea business, her medical studies, and her personal future.

​However, Naya had intentionally thrown down a heavy insult in front of a crowded room full of witnesses.

​Walking away now would mean accepting the humiliation.

​She looked Naya straight in the eyes, her voice dropping into a dangerously calm, steady register.

​"You really believe you can just take him whenever you please?" Veyra asked, her posture straight and confident. "You truly think he is yours to claim?"

​Naya’s confident smile faltered for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the lack of fear in her tone.

​Veyra took a bold step closer to her. "He is not some shiny prize you can win at an auction. He is not a piece of property you can buy with your family name. He is a living human being."

​Naya’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. "He was by my side long before an outsider like you ever showed up."

​"He was never yours to begin with," Veyra replied evenly.

​The entire front lobby of the restaurant remained completely quiet around them.

​Veyra stood tall against her rival, her heart thumping heavily against her ribs while her hands remained completely steady at her sides.

​She had fully intended to avoid provoking a romantic rival today, wanting nothing to do with the complex web of Dorian’s past relationships.

​However, due to Naya Whitmore’s arrogant provocation in the middle of a public space, Veyra abandoned her initial restraint and chose to confront her head-on, refusing to yield an inch of ground.