Maeve nodded. "Donating is fine."
"But if I win twenty straight again, I get another reward."
"And I'll pick you again."
Landon's face tightened. "You're that confident you'll win?"
Maeve leaned back slightly, amused. "Why don't we find out?"
Landon's smile thinned. "Why me?"
Maeve's answer was blunt enough to slice.
"Because picking a fight with someone who can't stand me," she said, "and then grinding them into the floor…"
"…is one of my favorite hobbies."
She didn't sugarcoat a thing.
No pretense. No fear of offending anyone.
If Andres weren't standing behind her, she would've made enemies by the dozen.
But Andres knew the truth:
Maeve wasn't fearless because she had protection.
She was fearless because she didn't see anyone as competition.
Landon had never felt rage like this—not in public, not with people watching.
All night Maeve had provoked him again and again, and now the fire in his chest finally boiled over.
In his mind, she was nothing—a discarded daughter, cheap and replaceable, lucky enough to have a pretty face.
She'd latched onto Andres like he was a ladder and now she thought she was someone.
Landon turned to Andres.
"Andres," he said, forcing a controlled tone, "for the sake of our friendship, I don't want to bully your little girlfriend."
"But since it's come to this… what exactly do you expect me to do?"
Even now he tried to drag Andres into it, to make him choose sides.
Andres simply looked entertained.
"It's a game," he said. "If you can't handle it, you can end it right now."
Carson, delighted to pour gasoline on the situation, added, "A man who can't lose in front of a woman… not the best look."
Carson was good at reading rooms.
After watching all night, he'd figured out Maeve was targeting Landon on purpose.
Even if Carson had no chance with Maeve, he didn't mind helping her land a punch.
Besides, he hadn't liked Landon from the start.
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