Chapter 218
Marshall stood there, looking at Allegra with her swollen, reddened cheeks still apologizing on behalf of someone else. The softness in his chest that had already loosened gave way completely.
He bent down, reaching out to support her arm, his voice lower than before. "Get up. This isn't your fault. You don't need to apologize for her."
Allegra let him help her up, tears still streaming down her face.
Her movements were deliberate and delicate, every detail seemingly calculated with precision.
Marshall watched her restrained demeanor, and another corner of that tender place in his chest caved in.
He turned his head, his gaze toward Lucinda hardening once more. "Lucinda, you've gone too far."
His voice dropped. "Allegra's been defending you this whole time. You slapped her twice, and she's still apologizing for you. And you? What have you done? You pushed me, hit her, and haven't offered a single word of explanation from start to finish."
He stood in front of Allegra, his eyes fixed on Lucinda's face. "When you were with the Wipere family, you were cold, sure, but at least you knew what was appropriate and what wasn't. And now? Just because you know a few rich people, you think you can do whatever you want?"
"Look at Allegra. She's ten thousand times more sensible than you. Someone like you could never compare to her."
Lucinda's brow furrowed slightly. A flicker of emotion finally appeared in her cool eyes.
The corner of her mouth curved, but the smile held no warmth whatsoever. "Are you done?"
Marshall felt a chill run down his spine under that gaze, but he still held his ground. "I'm not—"
"Then go wash your brain out at the sink." Lucinda cut him off, her tone unhurried. "When you're done, come back and speak in plain language."
Marshall's face flushed bright red. He glanced at Allegra, who was crying pitifully beside him, and ground his teeth. "Don't worry. This isn't over. I'm Marshall—a man of standing in the business world. No one's ever disrespected me like this."
Allegra lifted her head, tears still clinging to her lashes, her voice carrying a fragile obedience. "Marshall, let it go… Lucinda probably just acted on impulse. I don't blame her. Let's just leave. There's no need to make this unpleasant."
Her tone was soft as cotton. It sounded like she was trying to make peace, but every word pushed the narrative of "Marshall defending her" deeper.
Marshall's frown deepened. "Let it go?"
His voice rose several notches. "She slapped you twice, pushed me, and told me to go wash my brain. Let it go? If I let this slide, how am I supposed to hold my head up in Starlight City?"
He looked down at her swollen cheeks, the fire in his chest flaring higher. "You're my fiancée. Touching you is the same as touching me. She owes you an explanation for this."
With that, he turned to the shopkeeper behind the counter, his tone resuming its condescending edge. "Do you have a phone? I need to contact the manager of this mall. A customer in your antiques section caused an incident like this—the mall should send someone to handle it."
The shopkeeper was an old man in his sixties, wearing reading glasses, polishing a copper incense burner with a soft cloth.
He looked up at Marshall, then at the red-eyed woman beside him, his tone unhurried. "If you have an issue, you can go to the service desk. We only handle sales here."
Marshall was taken aback by the indifferent attitude. His expression darkened further.
He turned around, pulled out his phone, scrolled to the mall's customer service number, and dialed.
The phone rang several times before someone picked up.
A standard customer service voice answered. "Hello, Nox Core Tower Mall Customer Service Center. How may I assist you?"
"This is Marshall Grayson." His voice carried undisguised sharpness. "My last name is Grayson. I'm in the basement antiques section. Someone just assaulted my fiancée. I need the mall to send someone to handle this."
There was a two-second pause on the other end, as if someone were checking records.
Then the customer service rep's voice remained polite. "Mr. Grayson, we've recorded your report. If you wish to file a police report, we can assist in contacting the local precinct. If you require medical assistance, we can arrange for staff to help."
"I don't want you to help me call the police!" Marshall's voice shot up. "I want an explanation from your mall! The quality of your tenants is all over the place. A customer got assaulted here, and this is how you handle it? I'm from the Grayson family. Does your mall not even have that much respect?"
There was a brief silence on the other end. The customer service voice remained calm. "Mr. Grayson, our mall's service terms are posted at the entrance. Security in the shopping areas falls under local police jurisdiction. Our staff are only responsible for daily patrols and maintaining order. If you believe you've suffered personal harm, we recommend filing a police report."
Marshall's grip on his phone tightened. Listening to the formulaic response on the other end, the fire in his chest blazed hotter.
He abruptly hung up, his expression grim.
"This mall—"
The words squeezed out through clenched teeth, as if something were blocking his throat.
What kind of mall is this?
He'd been wronged here, and there wasn't a single person willing to handle it!
Allegra stood beside him, having watched the entire phone conversation from start to finish.
She saw him get shut down by customer service, unable to say a word. Disappointment flickered in her heart, though she showed none of it on her face.
She stepped forward, gently tugging at his sleeve, her voice tinged with reluctance. "Marshall, don't be upset. Customer service reps are all like that—they only speak in official talk. Why don't we just shop instead? Look over there at that counter. There seems to be some pretty jewelry."
Marshall followed her gaze. Not far away, a standalone glass display case held several pieces of jewelry.
He walked over, lowered his head to scan the items, and his gaze landed on a necklace.
The chain was platinum. The pendant was an oval sapphire surrounded by a circle of tiny white diamonds. The design was simple but exquisitely crafted.
The label beside the display read: [Royal Heritage Collection. One-of-a-kind. Certificate of authenticity included.]
"This one." He pointed at the necklace and said to the clerk, "Let me see it."
The clerk was a woman in her early thirties, dressed in a charcoal-gray business suit.
She stepped forward, put on white gloves, and carefully removed the necklace from the display case, placing it on a velvet-lined tray.
Marshall picked up the necklace, examined it for two seconds, then stepped behind Allegra and fastened it around her neck.
The moment the cool metal touched her skin, Allegra's heartbeat quickened.
She looked down at the gemstone resting just below her collarbone. The smile on her lips was impossible to suppress.
Marshall finished fastening the clasp, stepped back half a pace to look, and nodded. "Beautiful."
Allegra turned to face him, tilting her head slightly.
Her gaze swept over Lucinda, who was looking at other antiques nearby. A wave of indescribable smugness surged in her chest.
She was cherished. She was adored.
Someone stood up for her. Someone spent money on her. Someone was willing to fight an entire mall for her sake.
And Lucinda?
She came alone. She'd leave alone. She didn't even have anyone to talk to.