Chapter 99
Seeing this, Allegra's eyes widened instantly.
The Douglas family was the wealthiest in the entire country. Though the Wipere family was the richest in Seaside City, compared to the Douglas family, they were worlds apart.
Even she had never met anyone from the Douglas family, yet Lucinda was sitting at their table?
She noticed the man in the head seat. Though middle-aged, the aura he exuded was incomparable.
That must be Wesley, and beside him, those two women with exceptional bearing must be his wife Valencia and daughter Dahlia.
And Lucinda—she'd just calmly sat down in the empty seat to Wesley's left?
That seat was something Allegra wouldn't even dare dream about.
Last time at Hayden's birthday, they hadn't even made it through the front door.
But now, Lucinda—that bastard the Wipere family had cast out—was sitting peacefully alongside the Douglas family?
Allegra's mind buzzed. Her fingers gripped the program tightly.
She stared in that direction and saw Wesley pull a small box from his pocket and open it. Inside were some delicate pastries.
He turned his head, smiled, and said something to Lucinda. Lucinda nodded, reached out to take a pastry, and took a bite.
Wesley watched her eat, his smile deepening, his eyes brimming with affection.
Allegra's frown deepened.
The way the Douglas family patriarch looked at Lucinda was off—like he was looking at someone he deeply cared about.
She couldn't help but recall what she'd seen earlier at the side entrance.
Ollie bowing as he spoke to Lucinda, his posture incredibly humble.
And now this—the Douglas family patriarch bringing her snacks, watching her with a smile.
So Lucinda had failed to seduce Ollie and turned around to seduce the head of the Douglas family instead?
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.
Wesley was sitting in the most prominent VIP section, right beside his wife and daughter, yet he was openly flirting with another young woman right in front of them.
Bold move.
Did rich people in the capital really play this wild?
Still, this worked in her favor.
Allegra's mouth curved into a cruel smirk. She raised her phone, aimed the camera in that direction, and snapped several shots.
On the screen, Wesley was leaning toward Lucinda, speaking to her. From Allegra's angle, they looked close—almost intimate.
She took a few more shots and scrolled through the photos on her phone.
From Ollie bowing to speak with Lucinda to Wesley handing her pastries—every shot carefully angled.
Her mouth slowly curved into a venomous smile.
These photos would come in handy later.
She scrolled to the shots she'd taken earlier at the side entrance, her gaze landing on Lucinda's face. The more she looked, the angrier she became.
It was just a simple black dress, but on Lucinda, it looked damned beautiful.
She just stood there, doing nothing, and people couldn't take their eyes off her.
Allegra bit her lip and flipped her phone face-down on the table.
Annoyed or not, she didn't mind letting Lucinda stay and watch her accept her award.
Let Lucinda see what she, Allegra, looked like on that stage. Let her know what a real socialite was.
Thinking this, her mouth curved slightly, and her gaze drifted back toward the entrance.
Marshall would be here soon.
If Marshall saw Lucinda here, with how seductive she was, who knew what kind of trouble she'd stir up.
As she was thinking, she caught sight of Lucinda standing up, picking up her handbag, and heading toward the restroom.
Allegra's eyes lit up.
She turned to Gemma and whispered, "Mom, I'm going to the restroom," then stood and followed at a leisurely pace.
The hallway lights were dim and quiet, stretching that black silhouette into a long shadow.
Lucinda pushed open the restroom door and walked in. She stood before the mirror, raised her hand to smooth some stray hair by her ear, then pulled a lipstick from her handbag and touched up her lips.
Behind her, rapid clicking heels approached, growing closer.
Allegra pushed the door open and strode up behind Lucinda, stopping with her hands on her hips.
Lucinda glanced at her in the mirror but didn't turn around. She continued applying her lipstick.
"You followed me in here—do you want to humiliate yourself in the restroom too?"
Her tone was flat.
Allegra's face flushed red. Her lips trembled several times before she forced words through clenched teeth. "Lucinda, don't get too cocky. You think sitting at the Douglas family's table makes you something special? Do you have any idea who sits there? The richest family in the country! What are you to deserve a seat there?"
After she finished, she splashed the water in her hand toward Lucinda's face.
Lucinda's body reacted faster than her mind.
She shifted slightly to the side. The water splashed onto the mirror behind her.
Water droplets slid down the glass, blurring the reflections of the two women.
Lucinda set down her lipstick and slowly turned around.
Not a single drop had touched her face. Her expression was calm, but her eyes had turned cold.
Allegra stood frozen, empty bottle still raised mid-air, mouth slightly open. The smugness on her face hadn't even had time to bloom before it solidified into an ugly shape.
"You—"
She didn't finish.
Lucinda's hand was already in motion.
The slap sent Allegra staggering two steps to the side. She barely managed to steady herself by gripping the edge of the sink.
Her left cheek swelled rapidly and turned red.
She clutched her face, staring at Lucinda in disbelief. "You dare hit me?"
Lucinda flexed her wrist, her tone still unhurried. "Water splash didn't work, so you wanted to play the victim? You picked the wrong person."
Allegra's lips trembled, her eyes reddening as if about to drip blood.
She opened her mouth several times, wanting to say something like "you're seducing the Douglas family patriarch," but the words stuck in her throat and she swallowed them back down.
She didn't dare.
The Douglas family was the wealthiest in the country. The Wipere family didn't even qualify to carry their shoes.
If she said those things here, she wouldn't just offend Lucinda—she'd offend the entire Douglas family.
Forget her—even the Wipere family would suffer.
But she was unwilling.
Why?
Why did Lucinda get to hit her, and she didn't even dare fight back?
She clutched her face, tears streaming down, ruining her makeup.
"Lucinda, may you die a miserable death—" Her voice shook, but every word was squeezed through gritted teeth.
Lucinda looked at her, her mouth curving slightly. "If you dare provoke me again, I don't mind exposing your plagiarism too."
Allegra's crying stopped abruptly.
Her pupils contracted sharply. The color drained from her face instantly.
Plagiarism.
Her mind buzzed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink.
She remembered—shortly after the Wipere family had brought her back, Gemma had hired renowned teachers to teach her jewelry design.
The teacher was strict. The drafts she submitted were rejected again and again. She'd pulled countless all-nighters, wasted stacks of paper, and still couldn't produce anything that satisfied the teacher.
That day, she'd passed by Lucinda's room.
The door wasn't locked.
She'd pushed it open. The room was clean. On the desk lay a half-finished design sketch.
It was a brooch design—lines flowing with impossible fluidity. Every curve, every turn was perfect. The gemstone settings, the metal pathways, the layering of light and shadow—all clearly marked.
Even though she'd barely understood jewelry design at the time, she'd been stunned speechless by that sketch.
She'd stared at it for a long time. A voice in her head had whispered: This sketch could win you awards. It could make everyone see you.
She'd looked around, confirmed no one was there, folded the sketch twice, and tucked it into her pocket.
Later, she'd shown it to her teacher. The teacher had adjusted his glasses, examined it repeatedly, and said something she remembered to this day:
"This design is the most naturally gifted student work I've seen in years. If you can produce every piece at this level, there's no height in this industry you can't reach."
She'd felt guilty then, but she'd still straightened her back, smiled, and nodded.
Later, she'd added a few more strokes to the half-finished sketch, enriched the lines, enhanced the layering, then photographed it and uploaded it to the jewelry design competition website.
She'd won second place.
In that moment, she'd convinced herself the sketch was hers.
What half-finished draft? What stealing? The strokes she'd added were the finishing touch. Without her, that sketch could never have won an award.
Now, standing in the restroom, confronted directly by Lucinda, she was dumbfounded.