Rise To Power: Death To My Billionaire Husband-Chapter 28: And Then, It Begins

At the lobby, Anita saw her dear husband devouring the distance like a man marching to war – shoulders squared, jaw clenched, fire dancing in his eyes.

She didn’t stop him. Didn’t hide from him either. But he was so preoccupied, so tunnel-visioned on whatever performance he was about to give upstairs, that he failed to notice her standing right there – calm, poised, a storm in silk heels.

Let him keep charging into battle without realizing the war had already shifted.

Instead of leaving, Anita turned on her heel and walked over to the concierge desk with quiet purpose. The receptionist, a young woman barely out of college, straightened nervously the second she met Anita’s gaze.

"I’d like to lay a formal complaint," Anita said smoothly, her voice dipped in grace and iron. "About your VIP policies. And your failure to vet your guest lists properly."

The girl blinked. "Ma’am, I–I’m so sorry. Can I ask what happened?"

Anita smiled politely, but her eyes didn’t. "When I dine in the VIP, it comes with the reservation of the floor. If I wanted uninvited guests, I’d dine elsewhere."

Her voice was calm, even pleasant but each word landed like a blade.

The girl paled. They had let Mrs. Eleanor in because she was Anita’s mother-in-law. Everyone knew Anita was fond of Eleanor and Charlotte. And something like this used to happen in the past. But now... it seemed they’d misunderstood the nature of that fondness.

"I–I understand, ma’am. We just thought... she’s family and —"

Anita raised a hand, silencing her without a word, the tension in the air tightening like a piano wire.

"You thought wrong," she said softly. Anita continued, tone still honey-smooth but cold as ice. "What happened today was an embarrassment. Not just for me but for your establishment. If your staff cannot differentiate between a guest and a breach of privacy, perhaps I should consider taking my business to one of your competitors. I’m sure they’d be more appreciative and more strict on who to allow in and who not to."

The girl nearly dropped the pen in her hand. "Please don’t, Mrs. Blackwood. I swear this won’t happen again. I’ll escalate this to the highest level."

"Ms. White," Anita corrected, and without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off.

The message was delivered and if the girl was smart enough, she’d know what Anita wanted.

And indeed, the girl was smart. Although she was stunned at first, she quickly regained her bearing.

Because the moment Anita’s heels clicked past the exit and the glass door whispered shut behind her, the hostess spun on her heel and rushed straight to the manager’s office, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

She barged through the manager’s door, breathless. Just as the manager was about to chastise her for her dramatic entry, she waved, hunched while trying to catch her breath."

"Sir—Sir, we have a situation," she blurted out the moment she burst through the door, barely knocking. "It’s the VIP client. Ms. White. She’s – she’s upset."

The manager’s head snapped up. "Anita Wales Blackwood?" His voice dropped an octave, laced with dread. "What happened?"

The girl shook her head, "She said it’s Ms. White. She corrected me when I called her ’Mrs. Blackwood’."

The manager rose from his seat, eyes widening ever so slightly. Something big was going on here. "Come in," he ushered her in. "Tell me in detail."

She nodded and began, "She lodged a formal complaint about the VIP floor, saying it was poorly vetted, that uninvited guests had been allowed in during her private lunch."

The manager’s jaw tightened. "Uninvited guests?"

"She didn’t name names," the hostess said quickly. "But she didn’t have to. It was Mrs. Eleanor Wales Blackwood and a young woman. Ms. White was not pleased, sir. She threatened to go somewhere else." She paused, deliberating whether to add the last part.

"Come on, say it!"

"She hinted at being strict on who to let in, and who not to let into our establishment."

The manager cursed under his breath. He didn’t need more details. He’d seen enough reputation massacres to know what came next.

You ought to know Anita was already a White lioness before having a fallout with her White family and taking her husband’s name. Even so, it didn’t dull her teeth. If anything, marriage has made her even more vicious and ruthless.

Now that she’d reverted to using her maiden name, could it be that she’d not only reconciled with her White family, but also had a problem with her husband’s family? If that was the case, then their establishment must make the right choice.

David Blackwood was a famous billionaire, loved by all, and has potential to bring in a flood of clients, attention, and prestige. He was charming, magnetic, and powerful – the kind of man whose presence turned ordinary venues into landmarks. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

But Anita White?

She was the mountain behind her husband. The reason he stood taller, firmer, more unshakable than most. While the world praised David Blackwood’s brilliance, they forgot that brilliance burns out without foundation. And his wife, she was the foundation.

The reason he moved with certainty. The reason doors opened before he knocked.

The reason enemies backed off without a fight.

And the manager, just like most intelligent and survival-oriented men in this city, and one who’d been in the wealthy people’s world longer than even Vincent Victor, his boss, understood one thing very quickly:

When a woman like Anita White starts moving differently, you pay attention.

He sank into his chair and inhaled. "Alright, you may leave."

Once the hostess left, he grabbed his desk phone and dialed his assistant, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the polished mahogany.

"Get me Nadia," he said the moment the line picked up. "And I mean now."

There was no time for pleasantries.

He ended the call and dialed another.

"James, I want you in my office in the next minute."