?Chapter 1567:


    Darwin, already disliking her, found her rudeness irritating. “What does that have to do with you?” he shot back.


    Elsa’s pride burned as if it had been ground into the dust. This man had no regard for her stature as a celebrated artist. She shot him a venomous re.


    Brenna just sat there, expressionless, offering no defense on Elsa’s behalf.


    She believed Elsa had brought this upon herself.


    She watched, intrigued, wondering if Elsa, with her carefully curated public image, would cause a scene to salvage her wounded ego. From what Brenna knew, Elsa’s obsession with appearances would keep her in check.


    As expected, Elsa didn’t confront Darwin. Instead, she yanked out her phone, rapidly snapping photos of them, her voice dripping with frost. “Enjoy your meal. I’m done here.”


    She waved her phone with a smug flourish. “I’m sending these to my son right now. Good luck exining this to him, Brenna. Maybe he’ll finally see sense and leave you.”


    With a disdainful sneer, she spun on her heel and stormed off.


    The waiter, arriving with Elsa’s order, watched her dramatic exit and shook his head, clearly unimpressed by the so-called artist’s theatrics.


    Elsa marched straight to the Mitchell Group’s towering office building, riding the elevator to the ny-ninth floor to see Ethan.


    But to her dismay, Ethan was away on business in Laeson.


    It was lunchtime, and the vast secretarial office stood eerily empty. Elsa felt her earlier bravado giving way to irritation.


    “I need Ethan to see these photos immediately,” she muttered under her breath. She sent him the dozen or so pictures in a rapid burst, a cold smirk curling her lips. “Brenna, you’re not even married to my son yet, and you’re out dining with another man. I won’t stand for it, and neither will he. Brace yourself for a breakup!”


    She sank into a chair, feeling triumphant.


    She imagined Brenna crumbling, tears streaming, perhaps even groveling at her feet, begging for her forgiveness. Elsa let out a soft, self-satisfied chuckle at the thought.


    galnoν?ls is your update source


    But ten minutes dragged by, and Ethan still hadn’t responded.


    “Did he not see the photos?” Elsa wondered. She fired off a text, asking if he’d seen them. Several more minutes passed—still nothing.


    Frustrated, she dialed his number, and it rang for a long time before Ethan finally answered, his voice sharp with impatience. “I’m swamped, Mom. What’s this about? Make it fast.”


    Elsa bristled at his tone but swallowed her irritation. “Have you looked at the photos I sent?”


    Ethan’s response was clipped. “No, I’ve been busy.” That exined theck of response.


    “Then look at them now,” Elsa said, certain no man could stayposed seeing his girlfriend dining with another guy.


    .


    .


    .