?Chapter 842:


    But the blow never connected. Christina’s hand shot up, catching his wrist mid-air with ease.


    With a small twist of force, Moss winced in agony, his brow creasing as pain shot up his arm. “Argh! Let go, you wretched woman!” he yelled.


    Christina didn’t let up. Her grip held firm, and her eyes were like ice. “Your son paid the price for crossing me, and clearly, you’ve learned nothing. Try me again, and you’ll end up just like him.”


    With that, she flung his arm away with disgust and stepped back, her expression dripping with scorn.


    Davina wrinkled her nose and pulled a wet wipe from her purse, carefully wiping Christina’s hand. “Ugh. Old creeps like him are just revolting. And the women who want them? Pathetic nobodies who’ve never had anything better.” Her words wereced with venom as she gave Yvonne a cutting look.


    Yvonne’s face twisted, fury rising to her cheeks as her fists clenched at her sides. She made a silent vow—these two loathsome women would suffer. One day, she would bring them to ruin. What were they so smug about? Christina offered a faint smile. “Oh, really? Compared to your stamp collection, the two pieces I won are far more valuable.”


    Herposed tone only fanned the mes of Moss’s fury. He snapped back, his voice brimming with indignation, “They’re worthless pieces of trash!”


    “Let me give you a little tip. You know the painting Feathers of the Divine? A top-tier billionaire happens to be quite fond of it.” Christina’s lips curled into a sly smile. “You should know that trading something a billionaire loves can bring benefits far beyond imagination. Just this one painting could get me resources you couldn’t even dream of—well beyond the price I paid.”


    She paused for effect, then delivered her next words with a razor-sharp smile. “As for those stamps you bought? I can guarantee they’ll nevere close to the price you shelled out. Either you offload them for peanuts, or they’ll rot away in your hands.”


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    Moss’s smug expression crumbled. His face turned a deep shade of red, burning with humiliation and rage. “You damn wench!” he roared, suddenly swinging his right hand, aiming to p her.


    But the blow never connected. Christina’s hand shot up, catching his wrist mid-air with ease.


    With a small twist of force, Moss winced in agony, his brow creasing as pain shot up his arm. “Argh! Let go, you wretched woman!” he yelled.


    Christina didn’t let up. Her grip held firm, and her eyes were like ice. “Your son paid the price for crossing me, and clearly, you’ve learned nothing. Try me again, and you’ll end up just like him.”


    With that, she flung his arm away with disgust and stepped back, her expression dripping with scorn.


    Davina wrinkled her nose and pulled a wet wipe from her purse, carefully wiping Christina’s hand. “Ugh. Old creeps like him are just revolting. And the women who want them? Pathetic nobodies who’ve never had anything better.” Her words wereced with venom as she gave Yvonne a cutting look.<fna763> Original content can be found at find?novel</fna763>


    Yvonne’s face twisted, fury rising to her cheeks as her fists clenched at her sides. She made a silent vow—these two loathsome women would suffer. One day, she would bring them to ruin. What were they so smug about?


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