?Chapter 893:<fn06a2> For original chapters go to F?nd-Novel</fn06a2>


    Hooking her arm through Ynda’s, Katie pulled out her phone. “Ynda, let’s snap some pictures and post them online to make Christina burn with envy. Even if she owns that painting now, it doesn’t mean she’s good enough to get invited to Margot’s birthday banquet.”


    Katie, practically glowing with pride, pulled out her phone and struck a confident pose, snapping a few selfies with Ynda by her side.


    Katie scrolled through the images with delight, her eyes gleaming as sheughed softly. “Ynda, I’ve got to say, I’m proud to have you as my future sister-inw. You’re absolutely radiant.”


    “Oh, stop it,” Ynda replied with a yful scoff, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with exaggerated modesty.


    Ynda had dressed with painstaking care for the event, avish ne glittering around her neck. It was an extravagant gift from Brendon—given on the very day he divorced Christina—meant to symbolize their undying love. The price tag? A staggering ny-nine million and ny-nine thousand.


    “Ynda, you’re way too humble. Honestly, I think you’re more gorgeous than any of the socialites here in Lorbridge,” Katie gushed.


    “You’re too sweet,” Ynda replied with a demure smile. “Such a silver tongue, and not just charming—you’re beautiful, too.”


    As they continued to take selfies, several socialites nearby cast nces in their direction, their expressions a strange mix of faint amusement and subtle disdain.


    “‘Hillbillies.’” The barely audible sneer floated into Katie’s ears. She instinctively turned to look but couldn’t pinpoint who had said it.


    A few women were indeed staring at Katie and Ynda, their polite smiles too sharp to be genuine, making Katie feel suddenly uneasy.


    “Ynda, do you think they’re taunting us?” Katie whispered, her brows knitting together.


    ?????????? ???????? ???? ????????ν????????????


    Ynda followed Katie’s gaze, but by then, the socialites had already sauntered off. “Probably not…” she replied uncertainly.


    Just then, Ynda caught sight of Brendon approaching from across the hall. She instinctively began to smile at him—only for him to abruptly stop and nce past her, his eyes fixed elsewhere.


    Curious, Ynda turned around—and there stood Christina.


    Christina’s hair was styled to effortless perfection, swept up elegantly. She wore a softvender gown that shimmered like a river of stardust, the fabric adorned with floral ents that seemed to bloom with every step.


    There was something ethereal in her presence—poised, maic, utterly refined. Her features were sculpted like marble, with a beauty that needed no embellishment. The jewels she wore sparkled faintly, yet they faded inparison to her own natural brilliance.


    Guests were frozen mid-step, their conversations halting as their gazes locked on Christina. The sons and daughters of Lorbridge’s finest families stood in shock, mesmerized.


    “Who is she? I’ve never seen her before… She’s breathtaking.”


    .


    .


    .