Chapter 367
“But I insist,” Denver replied with an easy smile. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to figure it out myself.”
“Alright, you win.”
Denver gave a small nod before turning to discuss the matter with Marshall, leaving Barrie alone with Eric.
Barrie took the chance to lean against the pool table, his smirk laced with mischief. “So tell me, Mr. Flynn—doing good deeds from the shadows now?”
Eric, still focused on his game, didn’t spare him a glance.
“No need for anyone to know it was me.”
Barrie’s curiosity deepened. “Ah, so it was you. And let me guess—you don’t plan on letting Hadley find out either?”
“Why would she need to know?”
Barrie raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a waste, doesn’t it? Helping someone without them ever realizing it?” A chuckle escaped Eric.
Hadley got back to the dance troupe, didn’t she? That was all that mattered.
“What difference would it make if she knew?” Eric lined up his shot, his voice smooth, detached. “Would that magically make her leave Denver and come back to me?”
But Alita refused to back down. “Ms. Nicolson, even if that’s true, she did take on acting roles after joining the troupe! That is against the rules!”
Blanche didn’t so much as blink. “You’re right. That’s why I let her leave to finish filming before coming back.” Her tone was unshaken, deliberate. “I fired her for breaking the rules. Then I rehired her. Any objections?”
Alita stood frozen, struggling to process what had just happened. Could this really be happening?
Soon, the realization settled in—Blanche was protecting Hadley. The whispers about Hadley having powerful backing no longer seemed like baseless rumors.
Blanche let her gaze sweep across the room, unwavering. She had bent the rules for Hadley, and she made no apologies for it.
“You have no reason to feel slighted,” she stated coolly. “When the time comes, Hadley will show you on stage exactly why I made this exception.”
Her voice carried such quiet authority that no one dared to argue.
“What are you all still standing around for?” Blanche’s sharp gaze narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?” A beat of hesitation—then the murmurs began.
“Yeah, back to practice…”
One by one, the dancers dispersed, the protests fading as quickly as they had flared.
Hadley lingered, her emotions warring between gratitude and guilt. She turned to Blanche, her voice softer than before. “Ms. Nicolson… I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”
Blanche clicked her tongue, waving a hand dismissively. “No need for apologies.” Then her expression turned sharp. “If you really feel sorry, then just work harder. When you step onto that stage, there is no room for failure—only success.”
“Yes, Ms. Nicolson,” Hadley said firmly.
Another evening at the Flynn Mansion.
Linda arrived just as Quentin descended the grand staircase, his steps light, his expression unreadable.