?Chapter 1688:
“You!” Violette sprang to her feet, her face burning red with fury.
Irene quickly grabbed her arm and murmured, “Calm down. Let her enjoy this while itsts. Once Alban shows up, we’ll see how long she can keep pretending. She clearly doesn’t know her ce.”
“Exactly.” Violette gave a chillingugh and dropped back onto the sofa.
The boutique employees held their breath, eyes darting anxiously among the three women, all of them wondering what would happen once Alban arrived. The manager kept watching Christina’sposed expression, noting how utterly unbothered she appeared by his imminent arrival — it was strangely reassuring. Christina’s calm was so unwavering that it made the manager briefly wonder whether she might belong to a family even more powerful than the Martels.
The minutes crawled by.
Violette nced casually toward the entrance and suddenly spotted Alban. Her face brightened instantly, and she jumped up and rushed toward him. Irene followed closely behind, anticipation shing in her eyes. Had she not feared drawing Violette’s suspicion, she would have sprinted to him without hesitation. Alban wasn’t only wealthy and influential — he possessed striking looks and amanding physique that demanded attention. Marrying a man like him would be an unbelievable stroke of fortune, and Irene was determined to be the one who imed that prize.
“Alban, you’re finally here!” Violette called out, already reaching to hook her arm through his. Alban subtly stepped aside, his brow creasing. “Where is that arrogant woman?” His question immediately redirected Violette’s attention.
“She’s inside. Come with me — let’s deal with her,” Violette said lightly, confidencecing her voice. With Alban beside her, her certainty surged. She was convinced that with his support, that insolent woman wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Shepletely crossed the line! Not only did she attack us, but she showed you no respect at all,” Irene added quickly, eager to speak to Alban even if only for a fleeting moment. He was famously distant, so even a brief exchange would have felt like progress. But when Irene looked at him expectantly, Alban merely flicked her a nce and said nothing.
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Her excitement copsed. Her chest felt heavy with disappointment as he remained cool and unreachable, leaving her awkward and unsure where to ce herself.
As they entered the store, none of them noticed a pair of eyes watching intently from around the corner, locked onto Alban’s back and unmoving.
Inside the boutique, Violette pointed toward Christina, who sat there utterly at ease. “Alban, that’s her.”
Irene wore a smug smile, her gaze silently promising that Christina’s reckoning was close.
“It’s you,” Alban said suddenly.
His words shocked everyone present. How could they possibly know each other? Violette and Irene were the most stunned of all, and they blurted out at the same time, “You know her?”
“We’ve met before,” Alban replied, smiling as he turned toward Christina. “Isn’t that right, Miss Jones?”
The moment her surname left his lips, a ripple of shock spread through the room. The manager and sales assistants exchanged nces, each silently wondering if that exined Christina’s unshakableposure in front of Alban.
Violette hesitated before asking carefully, “Her surname is Jones? Which Jones family does she belong to?” There were countless people with that name, and she desperately tried to convince herself that this woman came from an ordinary background. It couldn’t possibly be the same Jones family she was thinking of.
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