?Chapter 1683:


    Violette curved her lips into a smile and looked toward the sales staff. “Does anyone here recognize the card she’s holding? She’s likely using a counterfeit. Why hasn’t anyone contacted the police yet?”


    The sales assistants fixed their eyes on the gray card in Christina’s hand, each of them visibly baffled. None of the store’s membership cards resembled it in the slightest. They had worked there for years and never encountered a gray card before — it wasn’t even mentioned in their training materials. Could this woman truly have fabricated a fake?


    “Just verify the card and see whether it’s genuine,” Christina said evenly, a faint smile on her face.


    The assistant manager responded at once. “You’re right. We can verify it.” Though in truth, she didn’t have the authority to do so herself. Only the manager could approve that process.


    “What’s there to verify? It’s clearly fake!” Irene snapped. “Has any one of you ever seen a gray card like that?”


    “No,” they replied in unison, shaking their heads. They had genuinely never encountered a high-level client presenting a gray card.


    “Get her out now. I’m running out of patience,” Violette said icily. “If you refuse to act, I’ll file aint and make sure every one of you loses your job.”


    The sales assistants and the assistant manager exchanged nervous nces, but no one stepped forward. The elegant woman holding the gray card radiated an overwhelming presence — herpleteck of fear made it in she wasn’t someone to provoke lightly. She hadn’t even flinched at the mention of the Hewitt family. How could they possibly approach her recklessly? Yet failing to act meant offending Violette, the Hewitt family’s own daughter. They were trapped, knowing that angering either side was tantamount to digging their own graves.


    Christina sat calmly on the plush sofa, the child resting in her arms, one leg crossedzily over the other. Her expression was indifferent andposed. Even seated, her presence was moremanding than those standing around her, silently pressing down on everyone in the room.


    “Call your manager,” Christina said softly.


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    “Yes, right away,” the assistant manager replied, lowering her head without thinking. There was something about Christina thatpelled obedience — her tone was mild and unthreatening, yet it carried unquestionable authority.


    “Why are you listening to her?” Irene spat furiously. “She’s nothing but a fraud waving a fake card around. Are you all brainless? If you’re this easily cowed, you’repletely useless. When the manager arrives, I’ll make sure every one of you gets fired!”


    She was about to continue when a sharp nce from Violette silenced her.


    Violette’s brow furrowed, her displeasure unmistakable. Irene was merely a follower, yet she was carrying on as though she were the true daughter of the Hewitt family. Once the manager arrived, it would be Violette’s authority that mattered — not Irene’s. Irene was nothing more than a shadow trailing behind her.


    “I’m sorry,” Irene muttered hastily, lowering her head. Behind the apology, her teeth were clenched and her eyes burned with quiet resentment.


    In Irene’s heart, Violette was no better than she was — just luckier by birth. One day, she would rise above the Hewitt family and force Violette to bow before her, repaying every humiliation she had endured at her side. Violette had always set her sights on marrying Alban, yet he wouldn’t spare her even a nce. Irene believed that if she seized the right opportunity, she could change her fate entirely — lift her entire family into wealth and eventually crush the Hewitt family beneath her own influence.


    She was desperate to gain power through the Jones family, but she had no way to approach Bain directly. Her only path was to cling to Violette, and that was how she had met Alban — though she still hadn’t found the perfect moment to act.


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