His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 489

The woman quickly regained her composure, lifting her chin slightly with the unmistakable pride of a privileged heiress.

She let out a soft laugh and casually picked up a fresh glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.

"Mr. Vanderbilt, your method of hitting on women is certainly unique," she remarked, swirling her glass as a bold, dazzling smile curved her red lips.

"I have always loved bright colors. As for allergies and that scar... Sorry, I eat all of those things. And the scar is from falling off a horse when I was ten. Dominic was right beside me when it happened."

"I am not this Virginia you speak of. My name is Gemma Harrington. Dominic and I have known each other since we were children. We grew up together. I have never seen you before in my life, so how could I possibly know you?"

*Gemma Harrington... grew up together...*

The more Archer listened, the further his heart plummeted. It felt as if he had been plunged into a freezing lake, the chill seeping into his bones.

At that moment, Dominic Harrington finally took notice of the confrontation.

He walked over with a glass in hand, the dark blue fabric of his suit gleaming coldly under the chandelier.

The gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses swept over Archer, carrying the sharp, oppressive weight of a man at the top of the food chain.

Two equally powerful, commanding men stood in a silent, explosive standoff amidst the lavish ballroom.

The air around them seemed to freeze. Even the surrounding guests sensed the suffocating tension and discreetly backed away.

"Mr. Vanderbilt," Dominic acknowledged with a slight nod. His tone was casual, yet layered with absolute possessiveness. "My wife is timid and isn't used to speaking with strangers."

Archer clenched his fists, his nails digging so deeply into his palm that fresh drops of blood welled up.

"Your wife looks remarkably like an old friend of mine," he ground out, his voice heavy, each word landing with force.

Dominic remained impassive, his expression completely unreadable.

Zachary stood respectfully to his right while a private doctor carefully cleaned the glass cuts on Archer's palm with tweezers and antiseptic.

The wounds that had already begun to clot were torn open once more. Dark red blood traced the lines of his palm and dripped onto the expensive Persian rug.

Archer didn't even flinch. His dark eyes remained fixed on the data displayed on the tablet in his lap.

"Mr. Vanderbilt," Zachary reported in a low, respectful voice. "Gemma Harrington is the only daughter of the Wentworth family in Chicago. She and Dominic Harrington are childhood friends who legally married three years ago."

"A little over a year ago, Mrs. Harrington disappeared for a while due to unknown circumstances. She didn't reappear in the public eye until a year ago..."

Archer's long fingers swiped across the screen, his thick brows knitting tightly together.

"Go on," he commanded, his gravelly voice thick with impending danger.