Born to Rule, Destined to Destroy Novel 18

Chapter 18
The air in Star Whisper Restaurant thickened with the sharp edge of Dominic’s voice as it sliced through the delicate hum of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. “What are you doing?” he snapped, rising from his seat with a scowl, frustration etching deep lines into his brow. The crimson stain of spilled wine bloomed across his shirt, a glaring wound against the pristine white fabric.
Adriana’s hands trembled as she snatched a napkin, her movements frantic yet tender as she reached to dab at the mess. “I’m sorry, Dominic! I didn’t mean to—” Her voice quivered, a fragile thread of apology woven with desperation.
“Forget it.” Dominic’s frown deepened, a storm cloud darkening his features as he brushed her hand away with a curt flick of his wrist. “I’ll handle it myself.” He seized another napkin, his fingers attacking the stain with short, irritated swipes, each motion radiating impatience.
Adriana froze, her outstretched hand suspended in the air like a broken wing. Her face stiffened, a mask of composure slipping into place, though her eyes betrayed a fleeting spark of resentment before she bowed her head. She bit her lip, the soft flesh whitening under the pressure, and her voice emerged in a tremulous whisper, heavy with unshed tears. “Dominic, I poured so much into tonight—hours of planning, dreaming of something special for us. But you’ve been somewhere else all evening. Is it work keeping you distant, or…” She faltered, the words teetering on the edge of her lips before spilling out, soft and pleading. “Are you thinking about Valeria?”
Dominic’s hand stilled, the napkin crumpling in his tightening grip. Her question pierced through his guarded demeanor, catching him off-balance, and for a heartbeat, the simmering irritation in his chest dissolved into something raw and unguarded. He let out a short, awkward laugh—a brittle sound that echoed with unease—and rubbed the back of his neck as if to knead away the tension coiling there. “You’re overthinking it, Adriana. Why would I think about her? I can’t wait to sign those divorce papers and be rid of her for good.”
Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel, tossing the wine-soaked napkin onto the table with a dismissive thud. “I’ll go clean up. You eat,” he muttered, his strides quick and restless as he made for the exit, a man fleeing a battlefield he couldn’t name.
“Dominic!” Adriana’s voice slipped out, a soft cry swallowed by the restaurant’s ambient murmur, but he didn’t turn back. His silhouette vanished beyond the glass doors, leaving her alone at the table, the candlelight flickering like a fragile heartbeat. Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms until crescent moons bloomed beneath her skin. The tears that had threatened to spill evaporated, replaced by a cold, steely glint in her eyes. The mask of vulnerability shattered, revealing a resolve as hard as tempered steel. She knew him—too well. This wasn’t about work. Dominic was slipping, his heart tugging toward Valeria, and that realization ignited a fire of defiance within her. No—she wouldn’t let him go. Not to her.
Adriana shoved her plate aside, the delicate china clattering faintly as her appetite withered. Her mind churned, weaving threads of strategy to hasten Dominic’s divorce, to sever the tie that still bound him to his past. She leaned back, the restaurant’s opulent glow casting shadows across her determined features, when a familiar voice broke through her reverie.
“Good evening, Ma’am. Do you have a reservation?” The waiter’s polite inquiry jolted her, and Adriana’s annoyance flared as she glanced up instinctively. Her breath caught, eyes narrowing in disbelief. Valeria stood there, poised and unruffled, her presence a sudden storm in Adriana’s carefully curated night. What was she doing here? Had she followed them, shadowing their every move like a specter? The thought sent a surge of heat through Adriana’s veins, her irritation boiling into something sharper. She rose abruptly, her chair scraping the polished floor with a shrill protest that turned heads.
“Valeria, the private room’s reserved,” came Diego’s voice from behind her, warm and steady. “I’ll park the car—you head up and order.” Valeria nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips as she stepped forward into the restaurant’s golden light.
A waiter approached her instantly, his tone courteous. “Good evening, Ma’am. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes,” Valeria replied, her voice smooth and unshaken, poised to give the room number when a venomous shout cut through the air like a blade.
“Don’t listen to her—she’s lying!” Valeria turned, her brow creasing faintly as Adriana stormed toward her, arms crossed and a sneer twisting her painted lips. Adriana’s voice rose, sharp and dripping with disdain, loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby tables. “This woman claims to be the ex-wife of the Barnett Group’s CEO, but she’s been cast out—disowned! She’s got no connections, no status. She couldn’t afford a crumb here, let alone reserve a table.”
The waiter faltered, his eyes darting between the two women, uncertainty flickering across his face. Then a spark of recognition lit his gaze—he’d seen Dominic earlier, with Adriana at his side. Her smirk deepened, a predator sensing the shift in power, and she pressed her advantage as the waiter’s scrutiny settled on Valeria’s simple yet elegant attire, a flicker of doubt clouding his expression. “Ma’am, are you certain you made a reservation here?” he asked, his tone polite but tinged with hesitation.
“Of course,” Valeria answered, her voice a calm river flowing over Adriana’s jagged outburst. “I reserved Room 205. There’s no mistake.”
Adriana’s lips curled into a smug, triumphant smile, her eyes glinting with malice. “See? That room’s not reserved at all, is it? I told you she’s lying!”
The waiter cleared his throat, an awkward pause stretching between them as he glanced from Adriana’s venomous certainty to Valeria’s unshaken poise. “Actually, Ma’am,” he began, his voice measured, “Room 205 is reserved—and it’s our finest VIP room.”
Adriana’s smirk froze, her breath catching as if the air had turned to ice. “What?” she spat, her voice rising in disbelief, a crack in her polished armor. “That’s impossible!” Star Whisper was a bastion of exclusivity, its tables a privilege wrested by the city’s elite. Even with Dominic’s name, Adriana had barely secured a spot in the main hall—a feat she’d flaunted with pride. The notion that Valeria, the woman she’d dismissed as a relic of Dominic’s past, could command a VIP room was a slap to her carefully constructed world.
Her mind raced, indignation swelling like a tide. She straightened, her posture rigid, eyes flashing with scorn. “Look at her,” she hissed, gesturing at Valeria with a dismissive wave. “Does she look like someone who could afford a VIP room? That’s not a place for just anyone. You’d better double-check the reservation. If you’ve made a mistake, it could cost you your job.”
The waiter hesitated, nodding reluctantly as he tapped at his tablet, the faint glow illuminating his furrowed brow. A moment later, his expression hardened with quiet certainty as he looked up. “The reservation for Room 205 was made by a Mr. Navarro—not a woman.”
Adriana’s confidence surged, a victorious gleam igniting in her eyes. “See? I told you so!” She wheeled on Valeria, her voice a whip of contempt. “She’s lying—same as always. Even after the Barnett family cut you loose, you’re still clinging to these pathetic little deceptions. Imagine Dominic’s disappointment if he saw you stooping this low.”
Valeria stood unmoved, her face a mask of cool indifference, her silence a wall Adriana couldn’t breach. Emboldened, Adriana pressed on, her words dripping with venom, while the waiter—now convinced of Valeria’s falsehood—frowned and gestured toward the exit. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we can’t serve customers without valid reservations. Please leave.”
He stepped forward, his hand outstretched to usher her out, when a deep, resonant voice cut through the mounting tension like a thunderclap. “Wait!”