Chapter 1814:


    “Like this,” Christina said.


    In one fluid motion, she tossed the contents of her ss directly into Irene’s face. Then she smiled. “The vor is quite good, isn’t it?”


    Irene stood there drenched, her hair stered to her face and her outfit ruined. Fury rose in her like a tide, her expression twisting as she struggled to hold back the rage wing at her throat. Every drop of the drugged wine was now on her — and Christina hadn’t swallowed a single sip.


    The fear of facing Violette with a failed mission turned quickly into something she could direct outward. “Have you lost your mind?” Irene snapped. “Why would you throw wine on me like that?”


    Christina arranged her features into an expression of wounded innocence. “You asked what I would do if I hadn’t forgiven you. I was simply showing you. And now you’re raising your voice at me? I genuinely thought we were bing friends.”


    Irene was struck silent. She was the one soaked in wine, and yet somehow Christina had managed to cast herself as the injured party. The injustice of it burned.


    She couldn’t be entirely certain whether it had been deliberate — though every instinct told her it was — and she didn’t dare make a scene. She still needed to stay on Christina’s good side, in case Violette required her cooperation for ater move. And her own ambitions hadn’t changed: getting close to Alban remained the goal.


    Irene swallowed her pride and forced her voice into something approximating sweetness. “I’m sorry. I assumed the worst and overreacted. Please forgive me.”


    She was gritting her teeth behind the smile. She was the one drenched in wine, and she was the one apologizing. The humiliation sat heavy in her chest. Only Violette had ever made her feel this small — and now Christina had managed it just as effortlessly. Both women wielded their wealth and standing like weapons, and Irene hated them equally for it. She made herself a quiet promise: one day, when she had power of her own, she would make them both answer for it.


    “It’s alright. I forgive you,” Christina said, with a small,posed smile.


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    The lightness in Christina’s tone only sharpened Irene’s irritation, but she kept her expression pleasant.


    “Stay here — don’t go anywhere. I’m going to change and I’ll be right back,” Irene said, her voice still smooth and cordial. In reality, she needed to find Violette and regroup.


    She didn’t even pause to wipe her face before hurrying away.


    Christina watched her go, a quiet, knowing smile settling on her lips. People who went looking for trouble, she reflected, had a remarkable talent for finding it.


    A sharp knocknded on the lounge door, and the moment Violette pulled it open, Irene stood before her in a state ofplete ruin — clothes soaked,posure in pieces.


    Violette’s gaze dragged over her from head to toe, contempt in on her face. “Didn’t I tell you to handle this? Why are you standing here like this? What happened to you — did the n even work?”


    It hadn’t urred to Violette that it might fail. She had assumed Irene simply hadn’t made her move yet.


    Irene shifted ufortably, dropped her head, and muttered, “It didn’t work.”


    “What?” Violette’s voice shot up, her eyes ring. She was certain she had misheard. “Say that again.”


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