Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase

Chapter 607:

Maia’s smile warmed, her voice gentle but firm. “No need to say more, Elvira. I know you are looking out for me. Thank you.”

Elvira’s cheeks flushed, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. Linking arms with Maia, she nudged her toward the door. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit private room, Roland’s patience frayed like a worn rope. His jaw clenched as he paced, the air thick with his frustration. Ever since Chris swaggered into the picture, Roland had not managed a single word with Maia. Worse, Chris seemed to revel in poking at him, each smirk a deliberate jab. How could he be overshadowed by a kept gigolo? He had bitten his tongue earlier, for Maia’s sake, but now, with her gone, restraint felt like a cage.

Striding to the table, Roland poured two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting under the low lights. He marched over to Chris, thrusting a glass into his hand. “Care to go head-to-head in a drinking contest? Lose, and you steer clear of Maia.”

Chris, sprawled on the sofa with his legs crossed, flicked his gaze up at Roland, a lazy grin curling his lips. He straightened, taking the glass with a casual flourish. “Alright, but if you lose, you back off and let Maia and me be.”

Roland snorted, confidence surging. Chris had already tossed back three glasses of hard liquor earlier — surely he was teetering on the edge. A couple more, and Chris would be done for.

said, raising his glass with

the scene unfold with wide eyes, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Was Roland out of his mind? She knew well that his drinking limit was pitifully low, yet here he was, challenging Chris to a duel of shots. She itched to intervene,

she could only watch the two men knock back glass after

swayed slightly, a faint flush on his cheeks, but his eyes remained sharp. Roland, however, clutched his stomach, his face paling as

found

seen this trainwreck coming from a mile away. Roland’s drinking prowess was a running joke among

mind — what if he collapsed in the restroom? Gnawed at by worry, she rose from her seat. “I will check on him,” she said, slipping toward the restroom, her steps

only Maxwell and Chris remained in the private room, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Chris reclined on the velvet sofa, his hand grazing his forehead as if trying to soothe a brewing storm within. Maxwell, shedding his earlier pretense, sank

No need to play the part

a playful taunt. “Quite the parade of rivals you’ve got. First Vince

acting? Keeping Maia close won’t be easy with this crowd, especially with your false identity.”