Chapter 232
"I... I was just passing by..."
Her face drained of color. She couldn't take another step forward.
The bodyguard withdrew his cold gaze.
Ahead, those two breathtaking men had already strode away from the corridor in long, purposeful steps.
Watching helplessly as two gorgeous guys disappeared from view, Allegra bit her lip hard, her eyes brimming with resentment.
She stomped her foot indignantly, then marched into the restroom seething with frustration.
The restroom was empty. Allegra had barely stepped inside, about to enter a stall, when she suddenly heard raised voices from the far end.
"Dahlia, what are you acting so high and mighty for?"
Allegra froze.
That was Hestia's voice?
Hestia was notoriously domineering. Most of Starlight City's wealthy kids knew her—and went out of their way to avoid her.
Allegra never expected to run into her here.
Instinctively, she lightened her footsteps, held her breath, and ducked behind a partition.
"Dahlia, you're nothing but a powerless adopted daughter. In the Douglas family, you're nothing!"
Hestia's voice dripped with venom, thick with long-simmering jealousy.
Dahlia stood at the sink, her face pale but her posture still carrying the poise of a well-bred young lady. "Hestia, please show some respect. This is a public place."
"Respect? You think you deserve that?" Hestia gave a brittle laugh.
Then came a violent ripping sound!
Through the crack, Allegra's eyes widened in shock.
Hestia had just torn a massive gash in her own expensive designer gown—with her own hands!
Fabric scraps fell to the floor. The sight was utterly pathetic.
Dahlia stared in complete disbelief.
She gasped, stumbling backward. "What... what are you doing?"
Hestia mussed up her hair, a grotesquely twisted smile spreading across her face. "What am I doing? Dahlia, you tore my dress. You were jealous of me. You bullied me!"
"That's a lie!" Dahlia's whole body trembled with rage, her voice pitching higher. "It wasn't me! You tore it yourself! You're framing me!"
"Framing you?" Hestia's laughter was almost hysterical, her eyes glinting with malicious insanity. "Dahlia, if I go back crying like this and tell Grandfather, tell everyone that 'you' did this..."
She closed in on Dahlia, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper. "Who do you think they'll believe—you, some outsider bastard, or me, their own flesh-and-blood niece? Who's going to believe 'you'?"
Dahlia's face turned ghostly white. She felt like she'd been plunged into ice.
Her mouth opened, but her mind went blank. She was completely paralyzed.
"Dahlia, why would you do this to me..."
Before Dahlia could react, Hestia's expression changed in an instant. She burst into pitiful sobs.
Clutching her torn dress, she cried out miserably as she bolted from the restroom, running toward the private dining rooms.
Left behind, Dahlia stood frozen like a statue.
Two seconds later, she snapped awake. Panic flooded her features. She grabbed her skirt and hurried after Hestia in a frantic rush.
"Stop! It wasn't me! Explain yourself!"
The restroom door swung shut again.
Allegra slowly emerged from the stall.
She watched the two figures disappear, her eyes flashing with shock, then thick with mockery.
Walking to the mirror, she looked at her reflection as she touched up her makeup. A cold laugh escaped her lips.
"Well, that was entertaining."
"So even the daughter of the country's richest family can get framed and dragged through the mud."
Allegra smirked, a complex gleam flickering in her eyes.
She'd recognized them both clearly.
The woman who'd just been left speechless was Dahlia, the heiress of the Douglas family.
And that brainless bimbo Hestia...
Had actually dared to openly bully the daughter of the wealthiest family in the country?
"Dahlia, oh Dahlia. Looks like karma finally caught up with you."
Allegra adjusted her hair with smug satisfaction.
This show was getting better and better. More riveting by the second.
The door to the Douglas family's private dining room burst open. Hestia stumbled inside, eyes red and swollen, hair disheveled, the gash in her dress gaping like a glaring wound from her thigh all the way down past her knee.
She threw herself into Yvonne's arms, her voice trembling just right. "Mom! Dahlia tore my dress!"
The cheerful conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt. Every head turned toward Hestia, then followed her gaze to Dahlia, who was just stepping through the doorway.
Dahlia stood at the entrance, face drained of color. She rushed to explain. "I didn't! She tore it herself. I saw her use a pin—"
"You're lying!" Hestia's head shot up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You yelled at me in the bathroom! You said I had no right to eat with the Douglas family because I'm not blood-related. You called me... called me a freeloader! I said something back, and you tore my dress! How could you do this to me!"
She sobbed as if her heart was breaking, shoulders shaking violently, like she'd suffered the greatest injustice imaginable.
Yvonne glanced down at the clean tear running down her daughter's dress. Her brow furrowed. "Dahlia, how could you do something like this?"
Dahlia's face went even whiter. "Aunt Yvonne, I really didn't—"
"You're lying!" Hestia lifted her head from Yvonne's embrace, pointing at Dahlia with tear-filled eyes. "Dahlia, you're so cruel! Why would you do this to me!"
Dahlia opened her mouth, but her throat felt blocked.
She'd never touched that dress. But she had no proof. No surveillance footage. No witnesses. No one had seen what really happened except her.
Valencia set down her utensils. She looked at Hestia's tear-streaked face, then at Dahlia's ashen one. Her brow creased slightly. "Dahlia, what's going on? Talk to your aunt properly."
"Mom, I really didn't!" Dahlia's voice rose several notches. "She tore it herself in the bathroom! She even told me she was going to humiliate me!"
"'You're' the one being humiliated!" Hestia's sobs grew louder. "You're just an adopted daughter who's lived off this family for twenty years, and now you're bullying me—Mom, I don't want to stay here. I want to go home!"
She stood abruptly as if to leave, but Yvonne grabbed her arm.
"Enough, stop crying." Yvonne pressed her back into the chair, pulling out tissues to wipe her tears. "Let's eat first. We'll talk about this after dinner."
The atmosphere in the room resumed its flow, but the air carried a strange, stifling tension.