?Chapter 1192:


    She pressed a circr acoustic pickup—roughly ten centimeters in diameter—firmly against the wall, then slipped a discreet Bluetooth earpiece into her ear.


    Kiley had suggested impersonation, but Raegan wasn’t Ss. She couldn’t wlessly be someone else. A clumsy performance would only draw suspicion.


    Besides, Anti had never shown her face in public—clear proof of extreme privacy awareness. Even if Raegan posed as a server, the best she could hope for was a fleeting glimpse. That wouldn’t confirm identity. It wouldn’t yield proof.


    But eavesdropping? That was different.


    People spoke an average of 14,000 words a day. Language revealed thought, and thought betrayed origin.


    By listening closely, Raegan could uncover far more than appearance ever could—background, habits, secrets buried beneath polished words.


    She adjusted the gain knob.


    And then a young woman’s voice drifted through the earpiece.


    A sharp burst of static crackled in Raegan’s earpiece, followed by a young woman’s voice—muffled, but unmistakably exasperated.


    “That’s enough! I’m seventeen! Will you please stop hovering? I’m here for a g, not some nightclub. And I swear I’ll be back at school for midterms in two days!”


    Raegan’s fingers froze on the knob. Her breath caught.


    Seventeen. Midterms.


    The words sliced through her thoughts like shards of ss. She could hardly believe what she’d heard. Was the founder of Annie Crystal… still in high school?


    Raegan stared at the flickering signal on her device, her heart sinking.


    If it was true, it meant the enigmatic force behind a global jewelry empire—a brand bold enough to challenge Radiant Jewels—was just a teenager.


    It was absurd. Yet it wasn’t impossible.


    Such a revtion would send shockwaves through the market. No wonder Anti had never shown her face. Who would believe a girl barely out of school could design pieces that rivaled Radiant Jewels?


    Every tale finds a home at g?lnσν???s


    Raegan steadied herself and turned up the volume knob, straining to hear more. But only static answered.


    She exhaled softly, removed the earpiece, and tucked it away. Her expression hardened into resolve.


    Whether this girl was truly Anti or not, she needed confirmation. And if she was just a high schooler… well, that made things far simpler than dealing with Kiley.


    If Raegan yed her cards right, she could win the girl’s trust and extract valuable secrets.


    Raegan checked her watch. “This is my chance,” she murmured.


    By noon, the Marclif Hotel’s third-floor buffet glowed under cascading crystal chandeliers. The air hummed with the scent of seared steak, ck truffle, and quiet wealth.


    Raegan moved through the space with effortless grace, her custom gown catching the light like liquid silver. Heads turned—but she paid them no mind.


    .


    .


    .