Chapter 793:
Fortune, at long last, had tilted in her favor, granting her the stroke of luck that she had so desperately craved.
Her once dull eyes lit with a startling brilliance. As for watching the video—the sight of Rylie being degraded by a group of men—Paola scoffed inwardly. No, she had no desire to sully her own eyes with such filth.
A sudden thought struck her, sharp and urgent, and she quickly reached for her phone to message Mylo. Barely an hour ago, he had invited her to the horse races in Crolens, their first official date since becoming a couple.
At first, she had agreed to date Mylo only to get back at Rylie, and she had never liked him. Now, however, she genuinely needed his help.
Then, without hesitation, Paola dialed Mylo, her tone gentle. “I didn’t notice your message earlier. I’ll come to the race, but could you ask Rylie along too? What we did last time wasn’t right, and we should make amends.”
Mylo still believed that Paola had merely given Rylie a harmless scare. Afraid that the truth might leak and reach Rylie’s brothers, he simply said, “Okay, I’ll see if I can get her to come.”
By the time the invitation reached her, Rylie was already laying out her attire for the event. The race was organized by Felix’s associates, and many participants were celebrated jockeys known across the globe.
She intended to seize the opportunity to discuss her idea with the host, having the club’s riders don Sweetberry’s custom jerseys for the brand’s debut advertisement.
At the Crolens racecourse, beyond the track itself, a bustling betting hall drew crowds eager to test their luck.
Clusters of high-society elites, wealthy heirs, and distinguished guests had already gathered, placing wagers on their chosen horses. The moment Rylie appeared, graceful yet commanding, the group rose in unison, offering her polished greetings.
“Good afternoon, Miss Owen.”
Paola was there among them, her fingers tightly entwined with Mylo’s arm. Her gaze, luminous with contrived regret, fixed on Rylie as she spoke in a syrupy tone. “Rylie, I kept a VIP seat just for you. Why don’t you join us? Mylo mentioned seats are hard to come by here, and since your invitation came so late, you might not have one secured.”
Rylie’s eyes drifted briefly toward the private box perched above the stands before she lowered herself into the seat beside Paola.
“I lost control of my temper at the bar that night,” Paola murmured, lowering her head in an act of meekness. “I’m sorry. I beg you, please don’t let this mistake destroy me completely.”
Sensing an opening, Mylo interjected hastily, “Paola didn’t mean any harm. She’s already apologized, so why not just let it go?”
“Let it go?” Rylie’s lips curled into a laugh, her voice tinged with disdain. “How can you even suggest such a thing?”
Rylie’s steady gaze unsettled Mylo. His grip on Paola’s shoulder tightened as he burst out, “She’s my girlfriend now. Leave her be. I’ll protect her.”
“You’re only being manipulated by her,” Rylie replied with chilling composure.
Paola instantly clung to Mylo’s hand, her eyes reddening with practiced sorrow. “Rylie, you’ve already stripped me of everything. I’ve lost it all, and even my own mother has turned her back on me. All I want now is someone to rely on. Mylo’s genuine heart touched me, and I’ve truly fallen for him. Please, don’t slander me.”
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