The Platonic Trap novel Chapter 53

It was actually quite laughable.

As for Talbot Forrester, because their grandfathers had been lifelong friends, they were technically childhood sweethearts.

Growing up, Celia had always noticed how highly her grandfather regarded Talbot.

Among all her childhood playmates, her grandfather always saved the best for the two of them, constantly reminding Talbot to take good care of her.

Truthfully, Celia never understood why her grandfather favored him so much. Not until her father passed away. Her grandfather's hair had turned white overnight; he fell gravely ill and forgot almost everyone.

But he remembered Talbot.

He would always murmur that Talbot was a good boy, that since he wouldn't be around forever, Talbot would take excellent care of his precious Celia.

So, for her grandfather's sake, she had always been exceedingly accommodating toward Talbot.

She knew her grandfather adored him, and to keep the old man happy, she swallowed her pride and catered to Talbot's whims.

But in the eyes of Talbot and his entitled socialite friends, her devotion was just pathetic desperation.

Even this girl standing before her—Evelyn—truly believed she could walk all over her just by invoking Talbot's name!

Celia let out a mocking scoff, a dark, wicked glint flashing in her eyes.

"I-I'm warning you! If Talbot finds out what you're doing, he'll destroy you!"

With one hand firmly twisting Evelyn's collar, Celia used her other hand to trace the shredded fabric of her ruined gown.

"Evelyn, you'd better pray I can still perform in this tonight. Because if I can't, destroying your reputation on campus will be the least of your worries."

She abruptly released her grip, and Evelyn collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

Holding the tattered dress, Celia narrowed her eyes, her gaze drifting toward a pair of fabric scissors resting on a nearby table.

--

Zucker Corporation, CEO's Office.

The heavy, suffocating tension among the executives and assistants had finally lifted as they bustled in and out carrying thick stacks of documents.

Alistair wore a pair of sleek, silver-rimmed glasses. He sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, his long legs crossed, the lenses reflecting the cold light of his monitor.

Ken stood faithfully by his side, lowering his voice. "Mr. Zucker, the situation has been neutralized."

"Good."

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