Her chest tightened, suffocating her.


    “Prisci…”


    “You knew I was pregnant,” she interrupted him, the iciness and mockery in her eyes undisguised.


    “But you didn’t want me to disturb you, so you ignored my calls and even muted your phone atst,” she said word by word,ying out the things he had done.


    It was just her suspicion, but she was pretty confident about it.


    She hadn’t wanted to expose him. But his relentless defense of Larissa’s innocence finally wore out her patience.


    Wesley fell silent, pursing his lips. In fact, Prisci was correct. When he saw her calling him, he figured she was making a scene again, so he muted his phone.


    He regretted it very much.


    “It’s already happened. No point dwelling on it now.” He wasn’t interested in pointless arguments.


    Walking out, he said, “Get some rest. I gotta go back to deal with something.”


    He closed the door.


    Silence prevailed.


    Prisci tugged at her lips, yet her eyes were filled with sadness.


    Soon, someone brought over a new phone. Her original had been ruined during the downpour, and the new SIM card was already inserted.


    She turned it on, and it beeped with several new messages.


    Some expressed their concerns, and some texted to question her. She tossed the phone away, ignoring them all.


    After lyingatose for most of the day, she felt better when she woke up again.


    At 6:00 p.m., her phone rang.


    It was a call from her close friend, Corrine Morton.


    She answered, saying, “Hey, Corrine.”


    Corrine’s lowered voice rang out. “Prisci, where are you? Why didn’t youe to the perfume conference?”


    Hearing this, Prisci instinctively sprang from the bed, grimacing in pain.


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    After a few seconds, she smiled bitterly. Thinking of her current state, she said, “Something came up. I couldn’t make


    it.”


    What followed was a few seconds of silence.


    Then Corrine’s voice came through again. “Wesley’s here with Larissa. They act so intimate, holding hands and ev- erything. Never mind, I’ll send you some photos. See for yourself.”


    Soon, Corrine sent over several photos.


    In the photos, Wesley was dressed in a tailored ck suit, his breast pocket adorned with an exquisite silk square that elevated his refined presence. Larissa’s fair wrist rested on the crook of his arm, her slender frame entuated by an elegant silk gown. Her long hair was tied into a chignon, and she looked extremely gentle and charming.


    They looked perfect for each other.


    A stabbing pain shot through Prisci’s heart. She had just had a miscarriage and was still hospitalized, and there he was, apanying Larissa to the perfume conference.


    And that gown…


    The gown was a pearly white. Under the chandelier, its sheen whispered luxury.


    Prisci had reserved it for the perfume conference. Corrine had designed it personally, spending over half a month to perfect the final stitch.


    Corrine had told her the gown was ready a few days ago. If it weren’t for the ident, she would have picked it up yesterday.


    And now, Larissa was wearing it.


    Of course, it was all “thanks to” Wesley.


    She gritted her teeth to get out of bed with difficulty and then texted Corrine, “I’ll be right there. Send someone to de- liver a gown to the hotel for me.”


    Corrine immediately replied, “OK.”


    Half an hourter, she arrived at the hotel where the perfume conference was held. Corrine had been waiting for her at the entrance.


    She was startled when she saw Prisci. “Prisci, you look terrible. What happened?”


    Prisci told her everything, the miscarriage included.


    She was immediately seething with rage. “That shameless pair! How could they do this to you? Come. I’ll make things right for you.”


    Prisci stopped her. As grateful as she was, she knew-there were certain things she had to fix on her own.


    “I’ll go get changed first. Corrine, will you do my makeup?”


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