Chapter 1481:
Elena’s gaze remained arctic, boring into Yvette with unsettling intensity.
Ice seemed to crystallize in Yvette’s veins under that stare. Every instinct screamed to retreat, but logic intervened—Elena no longer enjoyed Wesley’s protection. Fear had become obsolete.
The realization straightened Yvette’s spine.
“What’s with that look? Still deluding yourself about being Mr. Spencer’s beloved? Don’t imagine I’m ignorant—all of Klathe is buzzing about your spectacular dumping. Serves you right!”
In Yvette’s mind, without Wesley’s intervention, Cathy wouldn’t have been exiled into marriage to some foreign stranger. Now, without Wesley’s protection, Elena couldn’t act arrogantly anymore.
Elena’s reply was soft but sharp.
“Who said he dumped me?”
Yvette’s laugh dripped with malice.
“Oh, come on. Every citizen of Klathe knows you’ve been dumped.”
Vindictive satisfaction propelled Yvette forward. As they passed, she deliberately swung her handbag into Elena’s arm.
“Oh! My precious bag!” A cream-colored purse—Rosalie’s limited release from years past—tumbled to the ground. Yvette’s accusation followed immediately.
“You’ve soiled my treasure! This is Rosalie’s rarest creation, and you owe compensation… Let’s say three million!” She thrust three fingers skyward to emphasize her demand.
Elena’s lips curved into a smile that promised nothing pleasant. Trying to scam her? How foolish. Yvette’s bag, though genuinely limited edition, was yesterday’s fashion. Even in pristine condition it wouldn’t justify three million—let alone with its clearly worn hardware screaming age and overuse. Did Yvette truly believe a supposed separation from Wesley had turned her into easy prey? Some people never learned.
Elena’s brow arched with dangerous elegance.
𝖀𝖕𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 ⲋ𝛼𝓁ⲛ𝓸ⴝ𝖊𝓁𝓈﹒ⅽ𝗈𝗆
“Are you sure you want me to compensate you?”
Yvette’s nod carried fierce conviction.
“That’s right, and if you don’t, you won’t be leaving today.”
Elena’s gaze drifted upward casually. Very well—restraint would be a forgotten concept.
Elena sifted through the contents of her bag with unhurried movements, and Yvette, watching intently, assumed she was about to pull out a bank card.
A smug little curve of satisfaction appeared on Yvette’s lips. Without Wesley shielding her, Elena was nothing but easy prey—vulnerable and ripe for exploitation.
“Three million, and I won’t accept a coin less,” Yvette demanded with sharp insistence.
Elena’s mouth lifted in a faint, meaningful smile the moment her fingers closed around a thin card she had tossed inside carelessly days ago. Her recollection did not fail her. At the International Advanced Medical Practices Forum, an elderly man introducing himself as the head of the Jimenez family had slipped her this very card. The head of the Jimenez family was bound to recognize Yvette’s name.
“Why isn’t it a bank card?” Yvette snapped, scowling as Elena produced nothing but a creased business card. She stretched out her hand impatiently.
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