?<strong>Chapter 177:</strong>


    Billie’s eyes widened, and the woman beside her froze for a beat.


    He turned toward the woman, his lips curving into a faint, almost mischievous smile. “Besides,” he continued, “my wife is precious. And with a full staff at home, there’s hardly much for her to do.” It was clear now. Even the most oblivious could see it. Kristopher was standing by Carrie.


    With her family’s business tied to the Norris Group, she wasn’t about to risk offense.


    “Mr. Norris,” she said, forcing augh, “you’re not only sessful but also very protective of your wife.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone muttered, “She may not have the pedigree, but she’s certainly lucky.”


    Kristopher’s response was immediate. “You’re right. I am lucky to have such a wonderful wife.”


    Carrie’s chest tightened. His words sounded so perfect, but they twisted inside her. He wasn’t shielding her; he was cing her on a pedestal, making her an even clearer target for disdain.


    Her fears proved true as Billie’s expression darkened. “Carrie,” she snapped, her voice sharp with condescension. “If you’re going to act, focus on acting. Leave those unsavory habits from the entertainment industry behind. Show some respect to your elders. The Norris family has a reputation to uphold.”


    Before Carrie could respond, Kristopher stepped forward, his voice cold and unwavering. “Mom, that’s enough.”


    Billie’s eyes narrowed, but she waved him off dismissively. “Fine. Take your wife to dinner if you’re so concerned.”


    Kristopher reached for Carrie’s hand, but she recoiled as if his touch burned. Her eyes, glinting with cold anger, locked onto his.


    Without a word, she spun on her heel and walked away, her steps brisk and determined.


    Carrie’s heart raced, her chest tight with frustration. She was done being used as a tool, only to be insulted for her trouble.


    Kristopher’s hand hovered in the air, fingers curling slightly before he slowly let it fall. His gaze followed her retreat, unreadable, but his jaw tightened.


    Carrie approached a servant. “Move the piano to the gardenter,” she said in a soft but firm voice.


    Kailee, who had been quietly observing from a distance, couldn’t help but smirk. A piano? So, Carrie’s “performance” would be a piano piece, then.


    Kailee’s lips curled into a smug smile. Finally, a chance to watch Carrie humiliate herself. Fake was fake, after all. When the clock struck midnight, Cindere would return to her rags.


    The dishes served at Mny’s birthday celebration were nothing short of spectacr. Despite this, each guest was lost in their own thoughts, and regrettably, the culinary delights wentrgely underappreciated.


    As the evening wore on, the servers brought in new tters, and a particr dish of golden fish immediately seized Carrie’s interest. Billie, taking on the role of hostess, exined with a hint of pride, “This was caught just after twilight, directly from the ocean.”


    Those gathered, well-versed in gourmet cuisine, recognized instantly the rarity of the fish before them. The wild yellow croaker, a delicacy thatmands thousands per pound, shimmered on the tter. Its value increased due to its unique golden hue, achieved by shielding it from light. Unlike its daytime-caught counterparts, which often needed artificial enhancement in freezers to attain a simr golden luster, this fish was naturally exquisite.


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