?Chapter 1725:
Gillian did her best to bury the ache in her chest, pressing a weak, practiced smile into ce.
“Is the event finished?” she asked, her tone gentle and deferential. She had never forgotten where she stood—she would always be nothing more than a servant in the Jones household. This position was her lifeline, the only way she could provide for herself and her family and offer them some hope of a better future.
“Yes, let’s head back,” Christina replied, her eyes settling on Gillian. “Are you still feeling ill? Does your head still ache?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Gillian said, shaking her head.
Her left hand tightened around her right thumb, the small gesture betraying her nerves. She kept circling the same question in her mind—should she tell Christina about what had happened with Alban? If she spoke up, would the Jones family dismiss her on the spot?
Her thoughts knotted tighter by the second. The heavier her worry grew, the more restless her heart became, and she feared Christina might read everything on her face. If she lost this job, how would she and her daughter get by once they were driven out of the Jones household? Life would turn cruel for both her child and her family.
With her head slightly lowered and worry etched across her features, Gillian trailed closely behind Christina.
In a separate room, darkness swallowed the space, broken only by a faint glow slipping in through the window. On the wide bed, two bodies were entwined. Violette wore a look of quiet satisfaction as she held the man beside her.
Atst, she had imed the man she desired.
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“Alban…” Violette murmured, her voice soft and bashful.
Jaxen stirred at the sound and instantly sensed something was amiss. Startled, he snapped on the bedsidemp, his rmed gaze dropping onto the woman beside him.
“Why is it you?” they both eximed at once, shock written inly across their faces.
Jaxen had drunk far too much and never imagined he would wake up next to Violette. He was certain the woman he had been with was Christina.
As for Violette, in order to avoid arousing Alban’s suspicion, she had deliberately gotten herself drunk and arranged for someone to escort him to her room. So why was it Jaxen instead? The man who should have been brought to her was Alban.
Violette’s eyes flew wide, her head throbbing as if it might split open. She had mapped out every detail, yet everything had unraveled.
“You set me up!” they used in unison, their gazes brimming with hostility.
Jaxen had believed he was with Christina—only to discover it was Violette. If word of this reached the Jones family, he could forget any hope of marrying Christina.
“Why would I set you up?” they snapped together again, the bitterness in their eyes sharpening.
Violette said icily, “If you didn’t scheme against me, how did you end up in my room?”
“I… I must have gone into the wrong room,” Jaxen answered, though doubt crept into his own voice.
“Damn it!” Violette was so furious she felt like tearing his throat out. He had destroyed everything she had so carefully arranged.
Jaxen eyed her warily. “We both yed a part in this. There’s no reason to escte things, is there?”
“What part did I y?” Violette snapped through clenched teeth.
Jaxen hesitated, then his eyes gleamed as an idea struck him. “Don’t pretend I don’t see through you. You’re trying to trap Alban—and you wouldn’t want him discovering that, would you? What he despised most was being manipted.”
Violette ground her teeth, a flicker of murderous intent shing across her gaze. For a moment, she even weighed whether it would be best to silence Jaxen permanently.
“I’d suggest you don’t entertain any foolish thoughts,” Jaxen sneered. “If anything happens to me, you won’t just be the prime suspect—your plot against Alban will be exposed as well.”
“You—” Violette red at him, ready to retort, when a sharp knock suddenly sounded at the door.
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