It was a rowdy night.


    The bar thrummed with booming music, and the dance floor was packed.


    Upstairs, in a private booth, Lizetta and Ynda were sipping on red wine, deep in conversation.


    Suddenly, the door burst open, and a woman dressed in a chic red houndstooth suit, exuding an air of opulence, stormed in with eight bodyguards d in ck.


    Narrowing her eyes, she zeroed in on Ynda and immediately, her face twisted in rage.


    "You little tramp! Daring to reach out to me again-I see the lessonst time wasn''t enough. Got off lightly on the inte these past few days, huh? Well, I''ll give you what you deserve! Beat her, smash everything up!"


    This woman was none other than Mrs. Davis, the very same one who had orchestrated a previous attack on Ynda in a viral video.


    At Mrs. Davis''smand, four bodyguards stepped forward.


    Lizetta and Ynda remained seated, unfazed, as six bodyguards of their own swiftly emerged from a side room, instantly tipping the bnce of power.


    The door to the booth mmed shut behind Mrs. Davis, her face registering a flicker of surprise.


    Seeing the tables turned, Mrs. Davis''s bodyguards retreated to her side.


    With her backup now outnumbered, Mrs. Davis''s anger only intensified as she red at Ynda.


    "Ah, so you came prepared, setting a trap for me? You little homewrecker, what gives you the audacity..."


    Lizetta couldn''t stand by as Mrs. Davis hurled insults at Ynda, standing to interrupt.


    "Before you start throwing usations and names, Mrs. Davis, wouldn''t it be wise to get your facts straight? What if you''ve got the wrong person?" "What are you implying?"


    Mrs. Davis frowned, sizing up Lizetta, "And who might you be? What''s this to you?"


    Lizetta, in her light purple dress, her hair loosely tied up without any ostentatious jewelry but exuding a certain non-ordinary aura and backed by a sizeable entourage, was clearly there to support Ynda. Mrs. Davis had done her homework on Ynda, who came from a modest background, a neer to the entertainment scene without any significant support.


    "Who I am doesn''t matter, Mrs. Davis. What does is whether you''ve got the full story. How about, instead of rushing to violence, you take a seat? Yoli and I would like to show you something interesting." Mrs. Davis, her brows furrowed in confusion, nced between Lizetta and Ynda.


    Ynda''s injuries were


    well-concealed under makeup, and the dim lighting of the booth made them hard to spot. She nodded at Mrs. Davis, pouring a ss of wine as an invitation, "This one''s on me, Mrs. Davis. Surely, you''re not afraid?"


    With a scoff, Mrs. Davis walked over.


    What could she possibly fear from them? She was curious to see what they were up to.


    No sooner had Mrs. Davis taken her seat than Lizetta signaled to a bodyguard, and the screen facing the sofa switched to a live feed of the adjacent booth.


    "Take a look, Mrs. Davis. The next booth over is quite the scene. You might recognize a few faces."


    As Lizetta gestured, Mrs. Davis''s


    eyes locked onto the screen, instantly recognizing Margaret Miller, the heiress of the Miller


    family, at the center of the sofa


    Surrounding Margaret were several minor celebrities from Glory Media and friends of Margaret''s from high society.


    Fate would have it that Ste and Shirley were also there that night.


    They were allughing and chatting, wine sses in hand.


    Shirley let out a sneer, her voice piercing enough to grate through the live feed.


    "That Ynda, what a joke! AThis is property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    nobody from nowhere thinking she''s all that. She''s long overdue for a lesson. How dare shepete with Margaret for a man? With a flick of Margaret''s finger, and that foot Mrs. Davis was all too happy to y the pawn. Absolutely hrious!"