Chapter 95:

Paola sat awkwardly silent, unsure of what to say. Finally, she forced a smile and teased, “It must be so lucky to always receive gifts. Rylie, your brothers gave you this set of jewelry, right? And you didn’t even tell me. I nearly embarrassed myself tonight because of it.”

Everyone had seen how Paola insisted earlier that Rylie apologize. Now, the truth had flipped the situation on its head. Paola looked unprepared and unaware. Rylie’s tone remained light. “No one gave it to me.” She met Paola’s eyes and added, “We shouldn’t always wait for others to gift us things. Buying what we want on our own is perfectly fine.”

The smile slid off Paola’s face. Her hands balled tightly in her lap. She hadn’t expected Rylie to say it out loud—to hint that she relied on the family while Rylie stood independent. It was a blatant jab at her—suggesting that she was merely dependent on the Owen family for appearances, while Rylie was the true, capable Owen daughter who stood on her own.

The guests seated nearby began exchanging glances, their smiles barely contained.

“So, Miss Garrett makes a habit of asking for presents…”

“No wonder she went after Miss Owen earlier. Sounds like envy to me.” A deep flush crept over Paola’s ears as her smile stiffened. Her voice trembled as she tried to recover. “Rylie, surely you’re teasing. I only said so because I think everyone in the Owen family loves you, and it’s no surprise if they give you precious gifts—”

“Really?” Rylie swirled her wine glass with ease, her eyes playful but alert. “Then that’s fine. But next time, remember to figure out what’s really going on before jumping to conclusions.” She paused, her tone softening, though her words landed sharp. “That way, you won’t humiliate yourself again.”

The remark hit like a slap that Paola never saw coming. She lurched to her feet, the chair scraping across the polished floor.

“I need to freshen up.” Her voice cracked as she rushed away.

Isabella stood up quickly and called after her, “Paola, wait! I’ll come too!” Their flustered exit left behind scattered giggles and stifled murmurs among the guests.

A woman in a silver dress leaned forward and said pointedly, “Miss Owen, I admire how you expose people’s true colors with so few words.”

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Rylie offered a quiet smile, sipping her champagne as her gaze lifted toward the balcony above. Brad stood by the railing, watching from a distance. His eyes held hers. He raised his glass, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Rylie tilted her head in acknowledgment, returning the look with a faint, knowing smile.

Once the room settled, the auction began in earnest. Item after item dazzled the crowd as the auctioneer’s voice rang out, driving the bids higher and higher. Rylie leaned back in her chair, barely interested. These pieces, though lovely, were nothing compared to what she already owned.

She stifled a yawn, her gaze drifting lazily across the hall. A flicker of movement caught her attention. A server stood nearby—too still, too stiff.

Something felt wrong. A properly trained waiter wouldn’t hold that posture. And his hand wasn’t resting naturally under the tray. It was held firm, as though gripping something hidden. What kind of threat would even warrant a body like that here?

Rylie blinked once, and her casual air faded. Her back straightened. She scanned the crowd again, her eyes pausing on the second-floor balcony. The moment she saw the box, her expression changed. That man wasn’t here for just anyone. He was after Brad.

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