?Chapter 139:


    Ste stepped forward, her tone calm but sharp. “Ma’am, I’m not sure who you’re mistaking me for, but standing in public and shouting insults like that? Clearly, ss isn’t part of your vocabry. You probably struggle to even recognize a few characters, so I won’t waste time arguing.” She smiled coldly. “But for the record—my name is Sylvia Gilbert. I have nothing to do with whoever you think I am. You and your son? Definitely cut from the same cloth—loud and clueless.”


    She found that Jazlyn hadn’t changed at all from before, still the same vulgar shrew. Wealth had done nothing to refine her.


    Jazlyn stood frozen for a second, not quite processing the verbal smackdown she’d just received.


    Before she could regain her footing, Ste continued, her voice steady and cutting, “Sounds like you’re talking about your daughter-inw. Let me give you a tip—your son’s lucky anyone married him at all. Instead of being grateful, you keep dragging her name through the mud. No wonder she left. Maybe take a moment and reflect. People like you should seriously rethink their lives.”


    “You—you little punk!” Jazlyn snapped.


    She hadn’t understood most of Ste’s words, but thatst line hit home.


    Ste gave her a look of exaggerated innocence. “Well, whoever reacts must be the one I’m talking about. Why so worked up? You’re not exactly young anymore. Careful—too much excitement, and you might drop right here.”


    Jazlyn trembled, pointing at her with fury, unable to outtalk her.


    She shifted her re to Sharon.


    Dressed sharp, short hair, androgynous aura—Jazlyn jumped to a conclusion immediately. She figured this guy was Ste’s kept man. And in her mind, he must have been broke, mooching off women.


    With that thought fueling her confidence, Jazlyn puffed out her chest. “You there! Young man!” she called, pointing at Sharon. “Why waste your youth as some woman’s boy toy? Let me tell you—she’s broke. She doesn’t have a dime. She’s living off men and pretending to be something she’s not.”


    Her gaze shifted to the painting in Sharon’s hand, and her tone suddenly turned generous. “You’ve got potential. If you’re ready to turn your life around and ditch this woman, I’ll buy that painting for you as a gift.”


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    She turned triumphantly to the cashier. “How much is this painting? I’ll take it.”


    The cashier smiled professionally. “Certainly, ma’am. That piece is priced at fifty million. Will you be paying by card or check?”


    Jazlyn reached into her handbag without missing a beat—but then froze, her hand hovering midair. Did the cashier just say fifty million? She looked up at the cashier. “Wait… what did you say? How much is it?”


    “Fifty million, ma’am.” The cashier continued smiling, her tone sweet and pleasant.


    Jazlyn’s face twitched. “Fifty million?! For that painting? It’s not even by someone famous!” Her voice was rising. “This is robbery! This is fraud! I’m calling the police. You and this woman are obviously in on it—scamming people!”


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