Chapter 153: On the Eve of the Banquet

Chapter 153: On the Eve of the Banquet

The one she'd refused last time.

"Baby, you look beautiful." Vincent stood behind her, leaning in slightly, his voice low near her ear.

As he spoke, his sharp Adam's apple bobbed once, his deep gaze fixed on the mirror, his tender, captivated eyes tangling with hers in the reflection.

Claire stared at Vincent in the mirror, momentarily lost.

Today Vincent wore a custom beige suit, mid-length, making his frame appear even more imposing. His features were sharp and defined, the entire picture so striking it was impossible to look away.

Vincent was criminally handsome.

His tenderness was utterly disarming.

"Let me put it on you?" Vincent opened the box and lifted out the necklace.

The diamond's cold brilliance seemed to illuminate the entire room.

"May I?"

That low, seductive voice curled around her ear like cotton candy tickling her skin, making that side of her face flush with heat.

"Okay." Claire's brain wasn't processing—she responded purely on instinct.

Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly, something flashing through their depths as the corners lifted in a pleased arc.

His slender fingers separated the necklace, pinching the ends as he brought it around Claire's neck.

As he fastened the clasp, Vincent's fingers inevitably brushed her skin. For some reason, she couldn't stop the shiver that ran through her, the places his fingers touched tingling with heat.

A faint blush crept across her cheeks unbidden.

"Perfect." Vincent's hands rested lightly on Claire's shoulders, his gaze locked on her face in the mirror.

Though separated by the mirror's reflection, Claire felt that gaze thick and burning, too intense to meet directly.

She lowered her eyes to the necklace at her throat.

The diamonds reflected in the mirror were even more dazzling, almost blinding.

It was beautiful.

For an ordinary party, wearing a dress worth several hundred thousand dollars was acceptable enough.

But this two-hundred-million-dollar necklace was far too eye-catching.

Still, since she'd already agreed to wear it, so be it.

No matter how brilliant, it was just an object.

"Baby, I want to kiss you."

Before Claire could react, Vincent's hands moved from her shoulders to cup her face, turning it slightly as his lips descended on hers.

Vincent's kiss was gentle, like kissing something precious. The instant of that light touch made her heart feel brushed by a feather, a tingling numbness trembling through her limbs like an electric current.

Her lashes fluttered, then slowly closed, her heart racing with both panic and hidden anticipation.

Vincent didn't deepen it, pulling away after that shallow kiss with visible restraint.

When the softness of his lips suddenly left, Claire frowned slightly and opened her eyes.

Seeing her displeasure, Vincent thought she was angry. His voice turned hoarse with apology. "Baby, I'm sorry, I—"

But before he could finish, Claire suddenly pulled him closer by the neck.

Her soft lips pressed against his, almost aggressively.

Vincent froze for a moment, then slid his hand to cradle the back of Claire's neck, parting her lips to tangle with her.

This was Claire's first deep kiss while fully conscious. She'd been sitting, but somehow she'd risen, falling into Vincent's burning chest.

Their bodies pressed together without a gap.

Vincent's kissing technique was honestly mediocre, but his scent was like a drug, making her body go weak and her mind go blank. Though she could barely breathe, she was reluctant to pull away.

Their bodies were already pressed tight, but she wanted them even closer. Their tongues tangled and invaded each other's mouths, as if nothing could ever be enough.

Vincent's breathing grew heavier, his body growing hotter. Even through their clothes she could feel the intense heat, her lower abdomen clearly feeling something hard pressing against her.

A thread of awareness in her mind reminded Claire she could call a stop to this.

But her body was too greedy to let her speak.

One more minute.

She wanted to indulge for just one more minute, but the door suddenly pushed open.

"What are you doing?" A startled voice rang out.

But that voice didn't make the kissing couple pause.

They only stopped for the briefest instant before continuing to tangle together.

The person at the door stared at Vincent and Claire, lost in each other, her eyes blank and glazed, her lips pressed tightly together as if she'd been wronged.

She stood there for a while. Seeing Vincent and Claire wrapped tightly together with no intention of separating, her eyes misted with humiliated tears, and she turned and ran.

The instant she left, Claire gave a gentle push, and Vincent released her with ragged breathing.

"Baby, did you do that on purpose?" Vincent pressed his forehead to Claire's, his voice impossibly hoarse.

Claire raised an eyebrow, not answering.

She absolutely did it on purpose.

She'd recognized Daphne's voice the instant the intruder burst in.

When she and Vincent were kissing, any sensible person who saw would pretend they hadn't and quietly leave.

Yet Daphne acted shocked and demanded to know what they were doing?

What right did Daphne have to ask such a question?

So after that brief pause, she'd kissed him again.

Daphne wanted to know what they were doing?

Then she'd show her with actions exactly what they were doing.

Daphne ran all the way back to her bedroom and slammed the door hard.

She strode to her vanity and swept the entire row of bottles and jars to the floor in one motion, creating a cacophony of crashes.

Turning to look at the mess on the floor, her whole body trembled slightly. Her hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging deep into her palms without registering pain.

Her eyes burned with humiliated fury and resentment.

Yes, she felt humiliated by Claire.

She'd seen it clearly—Claire had obviously heard her voice, paused, then actively kissed Vincent again.

Deliberately ignoring her.

Treating her like air.

But it wasn't just anger.

Witnessing Vincent pull Claire into his arms and kiss her—she had to admit, she couldn't stand it.

She was jealous.

Jealous to the point of madness.

After her outburst, Daphne gradually calmed down.

She called Selene to clean up the room and changed into her gown.

Sarah had given her a hundred thousand dollars to buy a dress, but she hadn't.

She was only going to wear an ordinary old gown.

Claire would wear a custom dress worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

While she, the adopted daughter, would only wear an old gown worth a few thousand.

The guests would draw their own conclusions.

This way, it would be no surprise that the Montague family favored Claire and allowed Claire to steal Daphne's fiancé.

At the Blackwell residence.

Rowan and Brooke, dressed appropriately, arrived at influencer Anouk Chambers's studio.

At 6:30 PM, Brooke appeared on Anouk's livestream.

Rowan waited outside.

When Anouk saw she'd also come, she wanted to interview them together, but Rowan declined.

She was a public figure now—it wasn't appropriate to appear casually everywhere.

Anouk was a woman in her late twenties with short hair who typically interviewed trending public figures.

Though Rowan wasn't particularly famous in the entertainment industry, she was at least an actress, and with her recent online buzz, the moment Anouk introduced Brooke as Rowan's mother, the livestream audience erupted.

"Rowan's mom—is she here to expose that evil Claire?"

Rowan's fans called out, "Mrs. Blackwell, tell us all about how Claire bullied Rowan!"

"Anouk, hurry up and ask how that evil Claire bullied Rowan."