Chapter 63: Chapter 63
Landon sat across from Theresa in the dim booth of a forgotten wine bar tucked between two abandoned buildings downtown.
It would be a disaster to be seen with her by someone else, so they decided to choose an easier route.
The clink of a half-empty glass was the only sound between them for a few breaths. Outside, dusk was bleeding into night, and the city buzzed with its usual chaos, completely unaware of the storm building quietly inside this room.
He hadn’t really looked at her until now. He did, but never properly nor deep. Not since they’d bumped into each other two weeks ago outside Grigor’s estate.
She looked like a ghost of herself—more elegant than ever, but somehow less alive. Her hair, once vibrant red and cascading in defiance, was tucked beneath a black silk scarf.
Her sunglasses were still on, even in the low light, and her lipstick was dark as night. She was obviously hiding her identity. She looks more mysterious, and drenched in poison and charm.
"You’re staring," she said softly, lifting her glass to her lips without looking at him.
Landon didn’t apologize. "I was trying to figure out if you’re the same woman he left." That almost came out as a mockery but he did well to quickly replace his tone.
Her lips twitched. "Not even close."
He studied her a moment longer, then leaned back. "Then maybe you’re exactly what I need."
She finally pulled off the glasses and set them on the table. Her eyes were darker than he remembered, heavy with something ancient. He saw what could maybe pass off as resentment. Grief’s twin.
"Tell me the truth, Theresa," Landon said. "Why are you really here?"
"Because I hate him." Her voice didn’t flinch.
He raised an eyebrow. "Plenty of people hate Dominic. That doesn’t mean they’ll stand behind me, and help me take him down."
"They weren’t left behind." She spat out calmly.
Landon tilted his head. "You don’t sound like you trust me," he scoffed, his eyes searching her deep dead ones.
She sighed, but it wasn’t soft. It was a steel-wrapped inhale that stabbed through her perfectly painted lips.
"I gave him everything," she said. "Every part of me I swore I’d never give a man. He didn’t even fight for me. Do you know how that feels? To be left without so much as a backward glance?" She stared into Landon’s eyes. "He let me walk away like I didn’t matter, even after everything,"
"You mean he never came after you?"
"Never. He let me walk out of his life like I was a ghost. And now, he wants to be happy?" She scoffed, "With someone else? No, Landon. I didn’t claw my way back to the surface to watch him build a fairytale with Celeste."
Landon smirked. He liked the sharpness in her tone. It was honest. Extremely unromantic, and desperate in a way he alone understood.
That was the goal. If Celeste can’t be with him, then she’d create her fairytale six feet beneath the surface of the earth.
"So what’s your plan? Burn her house down? Slap her at a gala?" He paused, and went on when she didn’t say a word. "The media don’t like her so much. They’re just quiet, and waiting for more content to feed on. You can tear her down with the help of some random blabbering strangers."
Theresa smiled slowly, and dangerously. "You think too small. I don’t want her gone. I want her shattered. I want her to walk away from him on her own, the same way I did. I want her doubting if she was ever worth his love, just like I did. I want to stain their story, and tell it in my own narrative, while they write,"
Landon exhaled. "I didn’t realize how sick you really are."
"And you’re sitting with me," she replied. "Which makes you just as sick."
They were quiet for a beat. Theresa leaned forward. "Grigor won’t help you."
Landon scoffed. "He’s spineless."
"He’s afraid, but Dominic would never be someone he’d willingly go against. Dominic is more like blood to him. I know their history and Grigor would trade everyone for Dominic if he should. Dominic would do the same." She educated him. "You think Dominic’s soft now that he’s in love? You think he’ll crumble like a schoolboy if Celeste leaves? No, Landon. He’ll turn feral." She scoffed. "You barely know the uncle you grew up with, and it makes you look so stupid most times when you speak,"
"I wasn’t the one in love with him, yet stupidly walked away, hoping he’d chase after me. I wasn’t the one who turned bitter just because a man I loved let me do what I wanted." He wrapped her mockery up, and retaliated immediately.
Theresa’s lips parted with venom. "You_"
"Exactly." Landon cut her off. "Don’t throw shades at me again. We need ourselves."
Theresa sat back, swirling the last of her wine. "He should’ve fought for me. Instead, he made me invisible."
There was a flicker of something more in her. She sounded so raw, with a proof of what she still felt. She felt something, yet she was so ashamed of it
Landon noted it. "Do you still love him?"
She didn’t answer. Instead, she glanced toward the dusty mirror behind the bar, where her reflection looked back at her, older, and lonelier.
"I don’t know. Maybe I just want to be the one he can’t forget. The one that ruins every other woman who walks into his life," she said honestly.
Landon leaned back in his chair and looked at her for a long moment. "Well, good news. You’re already ruining one."
Theresa didn’t smile, but her lips quirked slightly, in a way that told him she knew she was dangerous and liked it.
"Celeste is not like me," she murmured. "She’s warm. She still believes in good things. In the beginning, that kind of woman makes you feel like you’re being forgiven by the universe itself. But eventually, it eats at a man. That softness makes you feel like a fraud. Like love is something borrowed. She’ll ruin him in a different way."
"You’re underestimating her," Landon said, not because he disagreed, but because he liked watching Theresa show her teeth.