Chapter 33 Last One Standing
Emilia: Made it to the Tipsy Tortoise! ??
Henry's phone buzzed on his desk just as he finished up his last email for the night. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He stretched back in his chair before picking up the phone.
Henry: You survived the treacherous journey. I'm proud of you.
Emilia: Barely. There was a line. And someone tried to fight the bouncer over a fake ID. It was riveting.
Henry: Ah yes, the noble gladiators of our time.
Emilia: Exactly. Anyway, if you finish early, would you join me?
Henry hesitated, just for a second. It wasn't that he didn't want to—God, he wanted to—but something about Emilia pulling him deeper into her world made his chest feel... lighter. She wanted him there. Around her friends. She wanted to fold him into the people who mattered to her. And that thought alone warmed something in him he hadn't even realized was cold.
Henry: I should be done in 40 minutes, maybe an hour. I'll be there.
Emilia: ?? YAY!!! (followed by an absurdly enthusiastic dancing meme)
Henry chuckled, but before he could put his phone down, another text popped up.
Emilia: Also, your brother is here.
Henry's smile vanished. He narrowed his eyes and typed back.
Henry: That absolute menace better not be corrupting the locals.
Emilia: Too late. He's pulling everyone into a drinking game... for a role in his next film.
Henry let out a slow, exhausted sigh. Then he typed:
Henry: That's it. I'm legally changing my last name.
Emilia: Oh, come on, it's hilarious. He has everyone reciting Shakespeare while taking shots.
Henry: First of all, that's not how casting works. Second, I'm going to beat him up.
Emilia: Please do. But after I see who gets the part.
Henry groaned, running a hand down his face. This night was going to be chaos. He could already see it—Jason holding court like some unhinged film director, half the bar slurring soliloquies, and Emilia laughing in the middle of it all.
And somehow, he still couldn't wait to get there.
________________________________________
The moment Chase, Liam, and Travis stepped into the VIP room, the energy shifted.
Liam, as always, carried himself like he owned the place, flashing a wide grin as he took in the scene. Travis, on the other hand, hesitated—just for a second—before scanning the room with a quiet urgency. Emilia followed his gaze, already knowing what—or who—he was looking for.
Roxanne.
She was perched on the edge of the booth, laughing—really laughing—as Jason animatedly reenacted some absurd story, hands flying, expression exaggerated. Roxanne clutched her stomach, her laughter unrestrained, and when she playfully shoved Jason's shoulder, the ease between them made something flicker across Travis's face. It was quick—so quick that anyone else might've missed it—but Emilia knew better.
Because she was the only one who really knew.
Travis had never openly admitted it, but one late, drunken night, when exhaustion had loosened his guard, he'd confessed to Emilia in quiet, slurred words. That he'd always been in love with Roxanne. That it had been there for as long as he could remember, a steady undercurrent beneath every teasing remark, every inside joke, every time he stood just a little too close.
But he had never told her.
And now, here he was, watching Jason pull those smiles from Roxanne with effortless charm, watching someone else take the place he had never claimed for himself.
Emilia's chest ached for him.
Travis was the guy who never took anything seriously, the one who could turn any bad day into a laugh. Seeing him like this—silent, withdrawn—was like watching the world tilt off its axis.
"Would've been lost without you tonight," Travis said suddenly, pulling her into a hug. His voice was light, his usual playful ease in place, but Emilia could feel the way he held on for just a second too long, like he needed the contact to steady himself.
She squeezed his shoulder. "You know I've got you."
Travis let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all sentimental on me, Em. We've got drinking to do."
Emilia forced a smile, but the weight in her chest didn't fade.
And she wasn't sure what scared her more—the fact that Travis had never told Roxanne how he felt...
Or the possibility that, one day, it might be too late.
Liam, on the other hand, was his usual smug self.
"Hey, Princess," he greeted, striding toward Emilia with a cocky grin before wrapping her in a dramatic hug.
Roxanne practically tackled him next, ruffling his hair. "Finally! Thought you'd abandoned us for good."
"Me?" Liam smirked. "Never. I'm just fashionably late."
And then, there was Chase.
Emilia noticed him, of course she did. But that sharp pang she used to feel when seeing him? The breathless ache, the twist in her gut? It wasn't there.
Instead, all she felt was something softer. Familiarity. A kind of quiet understanding.
Chase stood at the entrance, eyes locked onto hers, searching for something. His jaw was tight, shoulders squared, but there was no heat in his gaze, no storm brewing behind it. If anything, he looked... uncertain.
She offered him a small nod, nothing more. And for the first time, it didn't feel like she was drowning in the weight of what they used to be.
Hallie appeared beside him, completely oblivious, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she laced her fingers through his. "You're late," she said lightly, tugging him forward.
Chase didn't answer. But he did finally look away.
And Emilia? She turned back to her friends, her heart unburdened.
Whatever she had once felt for Chase, whatever mess they had been tangled in—it wasn't hers to carry anymore.
Meanwhile, Liam and Travis—either unaware or purposely ignoring the tension—continued their antics.
Travis leaned toward Roxanne with a smirk. "I hear the margaritas here are life-changing, but honestly, I'm just here for the company."
"You're so full of it," Emilia said, shaking her head.
Jason, who had been lounging like a king waiting to declare war, clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Time for the main event. Who's playing?"
Lily raised an eyebrow. "You're really serious about this drinking game for a movie role?"
Jason smirked. "Serious? No. But committed? Absolutely."
Lily sighed, but Emilia caught the curiosity in her eyes.
"Fine. Who's in?"
Jason pointed at himself with a flourish. "Obviously, I'm in."
Liam, already looking way too pleased with himself, leaned back. "I never back down from a challenge. Count me in."
Travis, shaking off whatever had been clouding his mind, grinned. "Drinking and theatrics? I'd be an idiot to sit this out."
Roxanne shrugged, all nonchalance. "I thrive in chaos."
The energy shifted again; this time charged with excitement. But Emilia wasn't fully on board yet. Her gaze flicked toward Chase.
And her stomach twisted.
Because she knew him. She knew how much he had punished himself with alcohol for his job, how often he had drowned himself in it, not because he wanted to, but because it was expected. She had watched him pay the price for it—the migraines, the stomach ulcers, the moments where his hands trembled just enough for her to notice.
And now? He was about to throw himself into a drinking game.
"Chase, are you—?" she started, hesitating.
Chase must have caught the concern on her face because his expression softened—just for a second—before he masked it.
"I can handle it, Em," he said, voice steady.
Could he?
She wasn't so sure.
Before she could argue, Roxanne nudged her playfully. "Come on, Em. You're not gonna let these guys have all the fun, are you?"
Emilia exhaled, forcing a smile. "Fine. I'm in."
Jason grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, people. The rules are simple: Last one standing gets a Kingsley surprise."
Liam leaned in. "And what exactly is a Kingsley surprise?"
Jason smirked. "That's for the winner to find out."
Travis groaned. "God help us all."
The game had officially begun.
And Emilia had a very bad feeling about it.
_____________________________
Round after round, the game escalated. Drinks were downed, inhibitions lowered, and one by one, people started tapping out.
By the 12th round, the bar was buzzing with energy, the air thick with drunken laughter and the occasional slurred dare. Emilia, still holding her own, felt the warmth of alcohol bloom through her veins, her cheeks flushed as she tried to keep up with the chaos.
Then—
The bar went silent.
A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire, heads turning toward the entrance.
Emilia blinked, confused, until she followed their gazes—
And her stomach dropped.
Henry Kingsley had arrived.
If the sight of him in casual clothing wasn't enough to send people into a meltdown, the sheer presence of him was. He was ridiculously attractive, standing at the entrance like he owned the entire establishment. His white Henley clung to his broad shoulders; his defined arms crossed as his sharp eyes scanned the room.
Women practically drooled.
Hallie and Sabrina visibly gawked, their mouths parting in disbelief.
"What the fuck," Hallie muttered, eyes darting between Henry and Emilia. "How the hell do they know each other?!"
Meanwhile, Chase's expression twisted into something dark. His grip on his drink tightened, fury flashing behind his eyes. What the fuck is Henry doing here?
Henry barely spared the stares a glance. He didn't care about the lust, the envy, or the whispers that followed his name like a shadow.
His focus was on her.
And then—
His idiot younger brother had to open his mouth.
Jason, completely unbothered by the tension, threw an arm around Emilia's shoulders and grinned. "Well, well, ladies and gentlemen," he announced grandly. "May I introduce you to my older, less attractive, and far more serious brother, Henry Kingsley."
Emilia, already flustered by Henry's intense gaze, turned bright red at Jason's antics. "Jason—"
"Oh, and did I mention?" Jason continued, his grin widening. "He's Emilia's fiancé."
The table froze.
Utter silence.
Chase felt the ground beneath him shatter.
Engaged?! Since when?! Didn't they just break up months ago?!
Hallie let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "You're kidding." She scoffed, eyes narrowing. "No way Henry Kingsley would stoop so low."
Henry's jaw clenched. He had expected reactions, but Hallie's condescending tone pushed the wrong button. His gaze flicked to Emilia, who looked torn between mortification and laughter, and that's when he made his decision.
If they wanted proof?
He'd give them proof.
Without hesitation, Henry stepped forward, grasped Emilia's face gently, and—
Kissed her.
Not just any kiss. This was a statement. A declaration. A slow, deep, possessive kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.
Emilia gasped against his lips before melting into him, her hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The world blurred, the whispers fading into nothing as heat coursed through her. Henry's grip tightened, one hand slipping around her waist, holding her close like she was his.
Because she was.
When he finally pulled away, Henry's voice was calm, but his eyes burned with purpose.
"I don't joke about things that are mine."
Emilia's breath hitched, her fingers still clutching his shirt.
Hallie looked murderous.
Chase?
He looked destroyed.
And Jason?
Jason just smirked.
"Damn," he mused, taking a sip of his drink. "Didn't think you'd actually commit to the bit, but hey—I approve."
Henry didn't even dignify that with a response.
His focus was on Emilia.
And making damn sure she knew exactly where she belonged.
The moment Henry Kingsley's name left Jason's lips, the energy in the room shifted.
Shock. Disbelief. A slow-building tension that wrapped around the air like a vice.
Roxanne, however, was the first to react. She blinked once, twice, and then a wide grin spread across her face. "So this is the infamous Henry Kingsley," she mused, crossing her arms. "Gotta say, Em—you weren't kidding when you said he was something else."
Henry, still perfectly composed despite the attention, inclined his head. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you all, but based on the looks I'm getting, I'm not entirely sure that's true."
Roxanne laughed, genuinely delighted. "Oh, I like you. Come sit." Without hesitation, she stood from her seat beside Emilia and slid over next to Travis instead, much to Jason's undisguised dismay.
Henry, ever the gentleman, nodded his thanks before smoothly settling in beside Emilia. His presence alone shifted the dynamic of the table, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
Travis and Liam exchanged a look.
They knew Emilia was seeing someone—she had mentioned it in passing—but Henry fucking Kingsley? That was a whole different ballgame.
Both of them had dealt with Henry before. Business negotiations, high-stakes deals, ruthless decision-making. The man was a calculating asshole—sharp, intelligent, and always three steps ahead. He wasn't the type to waste time on anything that didn't serve a purpose.
And now, he was sitting here, with Emilia, looking at home.
Liam took a slow sip of his drink. "Huh," he mused, eyeing Henry with something akin to admiration. "Did not see this one coming."
Travis huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, no shit."
But neither of them could deny the way Henry's eyes softened—just slightly—when he looked at Emilia.
That was new.
And then there was Chase.
His grip on his drink was tight, his knuckles white. His heart hammered in his chest, and his mind screamed at him to fix this.
No.
No.
This wasn't happening.
Nobody was good for Emilia. Nobody. Not Henry Kingsley, not anyone. She belonged with him. She always had.
And yet...
Here Henry was, staking a claim in front of the entire room like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Like she was his to claim.
Chase's stomach churned. His vision blurred at the edges, heat crawling up his spine like a slow-burning fire. His jaw clenched so tight it ached.
He had to do something. Say something. But for the first time in his life—he was frozen.
And Henry?
Henry knew exactly what he was doing.
His gaze flickered over to Chase, his expression unreadable—but there was something there. A glint of amusement, of challenge.
As if to say—
Checkmate.
The game stretched on, tension thickening with each round. One by one, players dropped out, succumbing to the alcohol and exhaustion. Liam and Travis were the first to surrender, laughing as they pushed their glasses away. Sabrina followed, shaking her head as she slumped against the couch. Roxanne held on longer but suddenly bolted for the bathroom, nausea overtaking her.
Henry squeezed Emilia's hand, leaning in. "Do you want to win this?"
She nodded, whispering, "For my best friend. But please don't drink too much."
His heart softened at her concern, but he wasn't backing down—not with Chase glaring at him like this was a personal war. Each shot was a battle, the weight of unspoken rivalry pressing down on them.
Jason sighed, setting his glass down. "You guys are nuts. I don't even care about winning."
Chase, however, wasn't done. His eyes locked onto Henry's, daring him. But then, his grip on his glass loosened. It slipped from his fingers, landing with a dull clink. His body stiffened, his face paling.
Hallie noticed first. "Chase?" Her voice wavered as she reached for him. "Hey, are you okay?"
He didn't answer. His breathing turned shallow, his body swaying. The dim room flickered in his vision—then the world tilted. Chase was frozen. The sight of Henry's hand resting so possessively on Emilia's waist sent a cold wave of nausea through him. His mind reeled, grasping for an explanation. This couldn't be real. It had to be some elaborate trick. But as he looked at Emilia—at the way her lips curled in amusement, at the way she let Henry touch her—his breath hitched. Had he already lost her?
He should have said something sooner, should have fought harder. A flicker of memory surfaced Emilia, once looking at him the way she now looked at Henry. There had been a time when she had waited for him to choose her. And he hadn't.
Now it was too late.
The alcohol churned in his stomach, and a sharp pain flared behind his eyes. He opened his mouth—to demand the truth, to make her say it wasn't real—but the words never came. The world tilted violently, his vision darkening at the edges. Then, nothing.
He collapsed.
"Chase!" Hallie's scream cut through the air.
Emilia's buzz vanished in an instant. She darted forward, kneeling beside him, fingers trembling as she checked his pulse. His skin was clammy, his heartbeat weak.
"Someone call 911!" she shouted.
Jason fumbled for his phone, suddenly sober. "Yeah, we need an ambulance—now."
Hallie gripped Chase's arm, her voice breaking. "Chase, stay with me. Please."
His breathing grew ragged, eyes fluttering shut as his body surrendered to the overwhelming sickness. The room was thick with tension, the sounds of hurried footsteps and shaky breaths the only thing filling the silence.
Then—the sirens. Flashing red and blue lights painted the walls as paramedics stormed in.
Emilia backed away, hands trembling as they lifted Chase onto the stretcher. Hallie followed, her eyes wide with fear.
The room fell eerily still after they left.
Jason exhaled shakily. "Well, that was... intense."
Emilia let out a weak laugh, void of humor. "Understatement of the year."
Jason glanced at the abandoned glasses. "So, technically... you won?"
Emilia blinked, barely processing. She glanced at Henry, then at Chase's empty seat, chest tightening. "I don't need it." She turned to Jason. "Give it to Roxie."
Jason raised a brow. "You sure?"
"Yeah. She deserves it."
He studied her before handing over his phone. "Put your number in. I'll call you about auditions for her."
She entered it and handed the phone back. "Thanks, Jason."
But before he could respond, a wave of nausea and exhaustion hit her. She needed air.
"I... I need the bathroom," she muttered, rushing away.