**Chapter 87** Avery's face was soaked, the warm water drenching her did little to shield her from the cold that seeped into her bones. She shivered, a chill hanging in the air. “Chelsea! What do you think you’re doing?!” Charlie sprang to his feet, his gaze sharp as he seized Chelsea's arm, yanking her away from Avery with an urgency that shattered the tension. “Charlie! Let go of me! I’m going to teach her a lesson tonight!” Chelsea’s eyes blazed with fury, her voice slicing through the private room like a knife. “Have you lost your mind?!” Charlie's voice was a thunderclap, filled with disbelief. Humiliated by his public reproach, Chelsea’s face flushed with rage. She jerked free from his grasp, her fury twisting into a renewed attempt to confront Avery. In a sudden spray of color, a glass of juice flew through the air. Splash! The crimson liquid splattered across Chelsea's face, drenching her in sticky watermelon juice. Avery had retaliated, her empty cup crashing onto the table, leaving an air of tense defiance in the room. “If you intend to bully me, at the very least, ensure you’re up to the challenge,” Avery declared, her calm voice reverberating against the stunned silence that enveloped the room. Her face remained untouched, merely damp, while Chelsea stood before them, drenched and utterly ridiculous, her refined features marred by the vibrant droplets. “Continue your meal! I’ll take my leave now.” With that, Avery dabbed at her face with a tissue, a graceful exit that drew whispers behind her, which she ignored as she strode toward the door. Chelsea seethed, her anger momentarily eclipsed by humiliation as she turned to chase after Avery, but Charlie’s grip stopped her in her tracks. “Chelsea, is this really the time? Aren’t you embarrassed enough?!” Drawing in a shaky breath, she retorted, “You think I’m humiliating myself? Let me go!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, her distress painting a sorrowful picture against her fury. It was just hours ago she had learned that Elliot had waited outside in the pouring rain for Avery, standing vigil at Laura’s crumbling rental, all night long. Despite burning with fever, he had stubbornly refused to seek help. To Chelsea, it felt as though Avery was casting aside a treasure for mere dust. The ache in her heart flared, transforming into a wild need for vengeance against the unyielding façade of Avery. “Chelsea, please calm down. This isn’t you—this isn’t the Chelsea I know,” Charlie spoke with a softness masked in urgency, trying to pull her back from the edge. His words snagged on her heart, momentarily halting her tears. Feeling abandoned by everyone, particularly by Elliot and now even Charlie, desolation flooded Chelsea’s veins. “It’s not that I believe you’re trying to humiliate me, but I worry you’ll come to regret this,” Charlie continued, his gaze steadier now. “I’ve warned you time and time again: when dealing with rivals, you must be cunning. Have you forgotten?” He grasped her hand, leading her toward the restroom, a small sanctuary amid her turmoil. As the Tierney siblings vanished into the bathroom, the atmosphere in the private room crackled with confusion. The management personnel from Tate Industries and Trust Capital exchanged wary glances. “What was that all about? Why did Chelsea and Miss Tate clash?” one member of Trust Capital inquired, curiosity laced with concern. “I have no idea! We’re entirely out of the loop on her personal affairs!” came the defensive reply from a colleague at Tate Industries. “Oh… it feels so complicated,” another chimed in, uncertainty casting a shadow over their voices. “Right? I wonder how this will affect our collaboration…” “Probably not; Mr. Tierney is personally overseeing the planning for this partnership, and he’s eager to see it through,” the Trust Capital representative reassured, lifting the group's spirits slightly. A collective sigh of relief washed over Tate Industries. “That’s good.” Once outside the restaurant, Avery halted in her tracks, the biting chill of early winter slinking under her skin. With her hair still damp, the sharp wind sent a shiver racing down her spine. Just like the night prior, rain began to fall, gentle at first, but soon it cascaded down in torrents, soaking the world through the night. Avery felt the memories pressing in, a cold reminder of the storm that had raged, both within and around her. The soft, solitary sniffle escaped her lips, a fleeting sign of her hidden turmoil.