?Chapter 117:


    With this in mind, Rosanna didn’t think any further. She handed the bracelet to Vincenzo. “Alright, but please hurry. I’m in a bit of a rush.”


    With a polite smile, Vincenzo, wearing pristine white gloves, took the bracelet and ced it into a velvet-lined box. “Miss Morgan, please wait here for a moment.”


    Turning on his heel, he headed back upstairs.


    Once he was gone, Rosanna released a long, shaky breath and sank into the sofa’s embrace.


    Despite her return to the Morgan family and the sophistication she had since acquired, her roots in the slums left her unprepared for handling such high-stakes negotiations alone.


    In front of Vincenzo, she had kept a wless facade ofposure.


    But inside, her heart was hammering with exhration.


    It felt like a dream — one that fate had finally granted after seventeen long years of hardship as the rightful Morgan daughter.


    Rosanna’s mind raced ahead, already nning how she would spend her newfound fortune.


    Her first n was to enlist her designer friends to help her track down the Blue Sea.


    Rosanna always imed what she desired.


    If Maia had it, then she needed it too — no exceptions.


    The Blue Sea dress rarely stayed on shelves, with resellers snapping up the few avable pieces and inting their prices to outrageous levels.


    Its resale price had soared tenfold, cing it far beyond the reach of most socialites. That unattainability was exactly what made it a symbol of elite status.


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    Now, with 1.8 billion within reach, Rosanna could easily afford it, no matter the markup.


    MCN might have cklisted her, but money would open doors. Once she wore the Blue Sea to her engagement party with Vince, she would surely outshine everyone and reim her ce at the center of the socialite world.


    As Rosanna reveled in her fantasies, Vincenzo reappeared from the second floor, carrying the bracelet’s box.


    Rosanna could practically see her ount bnce soaring. Bursting with excitement, she jumped up and blurted, “You can transfer the money now, right?”


    But Vincenzo’s face had hardened. He leveled a cold look at Rosanna and said, “Sorry, Miss Morgan. After authentication, we’ve concluded that your bracelet is a counterfeit.”


    Boom! Rosanna’s mind reeled as if struck by lightning.


    She stood frozen, eyes wide, stammering, “What… did you just say?”


    Vincenzo calmly offered the box he carried. “This bracelet is a replica. We can’t proceed with the purchase. Kindly reim it.”


    Rosanna jerked the box from his grasp, hastily lifting the lid. She retrieved the bracelet and scrutinized it, flipping it in her fingers again and again — yet it appeared unchanged. Whispering in stunned disbelief, she said, “No way… This isn’t possible… It’s exactly the one you requested. It’s identical!”


    “Miss,” Vincenzo replied, clearing his throat, “forgeries and originals often mirror each other closely. Without a specialist’s assessment, especially with artifacts like this, telling them apart can be nearly impossible.” He eyed her briefly before adding, “Frankly, you’re not alone. Several individuals have already tried to sell simr copies here. Unfortunately, like you, none of them brought the real thing.”


    Rosanna stumbled backward, momentarily overwhelmed.


    It felt as if the fortune she’d dreamed of had crumbled into ashes. The blow left her numbed, like someone cursed by fate.


    “Miss, if there’s nothing else, take care. Have a nice one,” Vincenzo said crisply, turning his back on her without another nce.


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