Chapter 171
Elsie's hands trembled as she pulled a small white leather handbag with a diamond-like sheen from the dust bag.
"Holy shit!" Even the usually composed Hilary cursed. "Is that a Himalaya?"
Beatrice, who knew little about handbags, looked over curiously. "What's a Himalaya?"
"It's the most exclusive Birkin that Hermès makes! The leather has this gradient from gray to white that resembles the Himalayan mountains—that's how it got its name!" Elsie's face flushed with excitement.
"This isn't something you can just buy with money! My dad spent millions at Hermès trying to get one for my mom, waited in line for two years, and never even saw one in person!"
Elsie cradled the bag like a priceless treasure, looking at Beatrice with newfound wonder. "Bea, seriously, isn't Frederick a little too good to you?"
"Good? Please," Beatrice scoffed. "That's just new money behavior."
"How can you call this new money!" Elsie immediately protested. "This is the power of wealth! This is devotion! What man drops everything to come support his wife after one phone call? What man buys out an entire store just because his wife says something 'doesn't suit her'? Even fiction writers wouldn't dare to write this!"
Hilary chimed in from the side, "Elsie's right. This Himalaya bag was definitely prepared specially for you. He knows you don't like flashy things, so he hid it among all these other items. That level of thoughtfulness..."
The two of them sang Frederick's praises in perfect harmony, elevating him to godlike status. Beatrice felt her head throbbing.
She had to admit that Frederick's timing today had been impeccable. And yes, he had... vindicated her. But when she thought about his ambiguous relationship with Ariana, her heart clenched uncomfortably. What did this small "kindness" really amount to?
"Enough, stop talking about it," Beatrice interrupted them. "If you like the bag, take it."
"I wouldn't dare!" Elsie carefully placed the bag back in its box. "This is Frederick's gift to you. If I took it, he'd break my legs!"
She leaned in with an exaggerated wink: "Bea, Frederick may seem cold, but he's definitely the devoted type. The way he looked at you earlier was so intense!"
"Don't be ridiculous." Beatrice's cheeks warmed despite her denial.
Looking at her two friends who had been completely won over by handbags, Beatrice sighed in resignation. She realized that Frederick was like an airtight net. No matter where she went, she seemingly couldn't escape his control. Even the people closest to her had unconsciously begun to take his side. This feeling left her irritated, with an inexplicable sense of powerlessness.
The VIP lounge door wasn't fully closed, leaving a small gap. Elsie and Hilary's back-and-forth analysis drifted out, every word reaching the ears of someone standing outside.
Frederick had been taking a business call outside. Returning to the door, he overheard Elsie's exaggerated praise. He leaned against the wall by the door, remaining still. The coldness in his eyes noticeably softened.
So his unspoken intentions were understood by someone after all. Even if that someone wasn't Beatrice.
He pushed the door open and entered. The chattering in the lounge stopped abruptly. All three women froze like paused mannequins, turning to look at the doorway in unison.
"Finished talking?" he asked.
Elsie recovered fastest, her face breaking into a fawning smile. "All done! Mr. Stuart, we were just thanking you on Bea's behalf!"
Frederick ignored her banter. "Would you two like to join us for dinner tonight?"
Beatrice immediately began to decline: "They—"
"Yes, absolutely!" Elsie jumped in before Beatrice could finish, nearly leaping with excitement as she grabbed Beatrice's arm. "How could we possibly turn down yourinvitation? We'd be honored!"
As she spoke, she frantically signaled to Beatrice with her eyes, squeezing her arm firmly.
Hilary smiled in agreement. "We'd be delighted, Mr. Stuart."
Beatrice was speechless with frustration at her two "traitors." She glared at Elsie, who mouthed back "once in a lifetime opportunity, take it."
Frederick called Liam, giving brief instructions: "Top floor of the mall. Have everything sent to the Stuart Manor. Also, reserve a table at 'The Serene Table.'"
After hanging up, he nodded to the three women. "Shall we?"
His manner was so matter-of-fact, as if he weren't extending an invitation but issuing a notification.
Beatrice found herself half-dragged out of the lounge by her two excited friends, one on each side. The group took a private elevator directly to the underground parking garage.
Meanwhile, on the third floor of the mall, Ariana still stood outside the Hermès boutique. She hadn't left. She couldn't accept defeat.
She had watched Frederick leave with Beatrice and her friends, clinging to a faint hope. Perhaps, she thought, Frederick was just putting on a show for others. Maybe he would find an excuse to come back, to explain things to her.
But all she received were the subtle pointing and whispers of passersby, and the contemptuous, gloating looks from the store staff.
The store manager had placed the pink bag Beatrice had rejected back in the most prominent display case, handling it with gentle care.
The supervisor and other staff, having finished their busy work, noticed the dispirited Ariana and feigned surprise. "Ms. Keller, you're still here? Mr. Stuart was so generous, buying out the entire store to make his wife happy. How enviable."
Another staff member added: "Exactly. There were all those rumors flying around, and I thought Mrs. Stuart had fallen out of favor. But looking at them today, their marriage seems stronger than ever."
"Indeed. Some questionable people always try to use their looks as a shortcut, without considering their actual status. Do they really think marrying into wealth will transform them into social queens overnight?"
Ariana's face burned with humiliation, her blood seeming to freeze in her veins. She finally realized that from beginning to end, she had been nothing but a joke. The carefully crafted image of herself as "Frederick's confidante" had been shattered. He couldn't even be bothered to look at her.
Indifference was the ultimate insult.
Beatrice... What right did she have?
Ariana clenched her fists, her perfectly manicured nails digging deep into her palms, bringing sharp pain. The pain cleared her confused mind somewhat. She wouldn't admit defeat so easily. The humiliation she had suffered today—she would make Beatrice pay for it doubly.
---
"The Serene Table" was an extremely private dining establishment, tucked away in a tranquil garden in the city center.
Their private room overlooked a lake. Through vintage wrought-iron windows, they could see the peaceful water where several white swans glided serenely under the moonlight.
The menu had been pre-arranged. As soon as the three women were seated, exquisitely prepared dishes began arriving in seamless succession.
Elsie had experienced quite a shock today. From the Hermès boutique to this restaurant, she hadn't stopped talking, constantly whispering in Beatrice's ear with one central message—Frederick was a man worth treasuring!