Chapter 951

Chapter 951:

With Luka safely entrusted to Madisyn, Vienna’s focus shifted, and without a second thought, she strode toward the woman lounging on the sofa. Grabbing a glass of water, Vienna raised it high before tossing its contents straight into the woman’s face.

The woman’s eyes flew open with a startled scream, the shock of cold water jolting her.

“Who let you in here?” Vienna snapped, her grip tightening around the woman’s hair, forcing her to face the fury in her eyes.

The woman trembled under Vienna’s relentless stare, her complexion draining of color.

“What are you talking about? Luka invited me here.”

“Still lying?”

Vienna didn’t believe a single word. If the woman wouldn’t talk, she would make her.

Without hesitation, she slapped the woman hard, the sharp sound echoing in the room.

Her voice remained eerily calm. “One more chance. Tell the truth.”

The woman sobbed, shaking her head violently. “It was really Luka. I—”

g Ɐ ln σ ν𝓮 ℓs․com, where stories thrive

Before she could finish, another slap landed with a sickening force on the other side of her face, leaving behind a vivid red handprint. Her hair tumbled over her face, and tears streamed down her cheeks, making her look utterly broken, a picture of complete misery.

The woman’s eyes flickered toward the lounge’s door, full of desperation as she silently pleaded for help. Outside, a few onlookers, disturbed by her pitiful state and worried that Vienna might lose control, moved forward to intervene.

“Ms. Hobbes, stop hitting her. It’s not just her fault.”

“Given Mr. Calderon’s nature, she’s not the only woman he’s been with. You should be teaching your husband a lesson, not her.”

Evita, her face swollen and bruised, added her voice to the mix. “I understand you’re angry, Ms. Hobbes, but you’ve hit the wrong person. You owe me an apology. Mr. Vaughn’s banquet isn’t the place for a scene!”

Evita spoke with feigned righteousness, shooting a meaningful glance toward the woman on the sofa. She had already tipped off Marcus.

Once he witnessed Luka’s disgrace, she was certain he would reconsider any future collaboration with Timeless Elegance.

As her eyes met Evita’s, the woman wiped away a tear. Evita had been clear before the task: no surveillance would be active. As long as she insisted that Luka had invited her here, there would be no problems. Taking a beating in exchange for some emergency money was worth it.

.

.

.