Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 72

Mina regarded Alicia with a smug, challenging glint in her eyes—she always acted as if she were above Alicia, never bothering to hide her condescension.

"Alicia, we need to talk," Vincent said, his brow furrowing. He wanted a private conversation, away from prying eyes and ears.

He hated forcing her into a corner like this... but Mira was his little sister, and she carried the reputation of the entire Lawson family. He couldn't let her go to jail.

"Mr. Lawson, I was willing to show you some respect, but it seems you don't even see me as a person," Alicia replied, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and barely suppressed anger. She'd considered Vincent's reputation, but all he wanted was to grind her into the ground.

She turned to the reporter from earlier, her tone sharp. "Just now, during your interview, you asked if I was the other woman—were you serious about that? Wasn't it your paper that covered Mina's lavish international wedding? And her groom wasn't Vincent, was he?"

The reporter hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.

Alicia pressed on. "There's never been any sugar-daddy arrangement between Vincent and me. If you really want to call our four-year relationship that, well, I must've been the one footing the bill."

She clenched her fists, facing Vincent head-on. "Every single transaction between us in those four years—I remember them all. Every payment, every reason, every dollar. And that credit card I had in your name—you know exactly how much I spent, Vincent. It's all there in the records."

Vincent's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, wanting to defend himself, but the words caught in his throat. The truth was, Alicia had hardly spent any of his money at all.

Compared to the mistresses pampered by other men in their circle, Alicia had been with him for four years and spent less than what others dropped on a single designer purse.

"But Mr. Lawson," Alicia continued, her tone cutting, "do you know how much I've spent on you?" She turned the question on him.

Vincent was stunned, his breath catching. He couldn't answer.

"For four years, you lived with me whenever you weren't working. Every meal was made with fresh ingredients, because you wouldn't touch anything cheap. To keep up, I worked three jobs every month—apart from the money I sent back to the orphanage, every cent went to supporting you." She pulled a battered notebook from her bag, her personal ledger.