?Chapter 1691:


    “Miss Jones, does their apology satisfy you?” Alban asked.


    “It will do,” Christina answered.


    Nearby, Violette and Irene simmered with fury. It will do? How could she possibly say that so casually?


    “Miss Jones, are you avable tomorrow evening?” Alban asked.


    A sharp wave of unease crept through Violette. Was he about to invite that woman somewhere — dinner, perhaps?


    “Mr. Martel, say what you mean,” Christina replied calmly.


    “There’s a charity event taking ce tomorrow night. I’d like to extend an invitation to you,” Alban said, his expression courteous and controlled.


    “She’s no benefactor. What would she even do at a charity event — hang around for free food?” Violette scoffed, her desire to see Christina disgraced burning even brighter. Alban had always kept women at arm’s length, yet now he was personally inviting someone who had appeared out of thin air. Was it possible he actually cared about this woman?


    The thought twisted painfully inside Violette’s chest. She nearly spoke — but the instant Alban cast her a freezing look, she snapped her mouth shut, fury churning beneath the surface.


    Alban turned back toward Christina, his tone noticeably gentler. “Miss Jones?”


    “Alright. I’ll attend,” Christina said.


    “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Alban replied, the faintest smile touching his lips. He turned and walked away, leaving Violette rooted where she stood.


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    Violette watched him go, then flung Christina a venomous re, stamped her foot in frustration, and hurried after him.


    “Violette, aren’t you going to stop her from showing up tomorrow?” Irene whispered as she followed.


    Irene was even more unsettled than Violette. Alban’s behavior feltpletely out of character.


    “Stop her? With what authority? She carries the Jones name,” Violette muttered, shooting Irene an irritated look. If there had been any way to prevent it, she wouldn’t have stood there while Alban issued the invitation so openly.


    “If it’s donations like usual, I wonder how much she can really afford,” Irene said, her brows knitting together. She had only ever entered gatherings like that by clinging to Violette’s influence — on her own, she wouldn’t even make it past the entrance. This time would be no different.


    “She’s a Jones, so she might have money too…” Violette trailed off, and a slow, calcting smile spread across her face. “Oh, I almost forgot — she’s walking straight into a trap.”


    “A trap? What do you mean?” Irene asked, baffled.


    “This charity event isn’t like the others,” Violette said, smiling coldly. “Every guest has to perform something on stage. After each act, the audience ces bids, and the highest amount is donated.”


    Understanding dawned on Irene’s face, and she burst outughing. “So if she humiliates herself on stage, even a generous bid won’t save her from beingughed at?”


    “It’s even better than that,” Violette said with a low chuckle. “She isn’t close kin. The Jones family won’t take responsibility for that kind of disgrace.” She could already picture it — that woman mocked, the Jones family distancing themselves, and Alban losing interest. No one wanted to be linked to a public embarrassment. Just picturing Christina’s downfall sent a quiet thrill through her.


    “So… you think Alban invited her just to set her up?” Irene whispered. “The Martels and the Jones family have never truly been on the same side.”


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