Chapter 172 All Eyes on the Drama
Damn it—what was this now? Another twist no one had seen coming.
The banquet hall felt like it had been struck by an invisible blow. Conversations faltered, glasses paused midair, and every mind seemed to echo with a single word: chaos.
First, Anna's proudly displayed gift had been exposed as a fake in front of everyone. Then, the Martinez family's illegitimate daughter—dismissed by many as nothing more than a quiet, poor outsider—had been revealed to be Bald Eagle, an underground fighting champion and national figure. Not only did she have status and a name, she had casually presented Vaughn with a gift worth over a hundred million dollars.
And now, the man who had seemed like just another bespectacled guest was suddenly revealed as Emory Buckner's only grandson. As if that wasn't enough, Emory himself had arrived, and in front of the entire hall, stated that he had never authenticated any artifact for Anna.
It was like someone backstage was pulling strings, stacking twist upon twist, each more outrageous than the last.
The audience could barely keep up. This birthday party was turning into a spectacle worth the price of admission.
Emory's question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Every gaze in the room zeroed in on Anna, waiting for her to speak.
Her face drained of color, a fine sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead. She opened her mouth once, twice, but no words came. It was as if her throat had locked shut.
No one had told her Emory would be here tonight…
Moments ago, she had only wanted to deflect Rocco's accusation, to deny that her gift was a counterfeit. In her haste, she had claimed she'd had it authenticated by Emory himself. She hadn't known that the seemingly ordinary young man was his grandson. She hadn't imagined Emory would hear her words firsthand and confront her publicly.
In the world of antiquities and archaeology, Emory's name was synonymous with authority. Reputation was everything in that circle. And his expression now—cool, unyielding—told her exactly how much he valued his.
What was she supposed to do?
If she admitted she had never asked Emory to examine the vase, she would be confessing to a lie in front of the entire hall—humiliating herself beyond repair.
But if she stuck to her story, Emory was not the sort of man to let false claims slide.
Her pulse spiked. Panic clawed at her chest.
She had met her share of powerful people in business, but she had always relied on the Williams family name to smooth her path. Few had ever dared to challenge her so directly.
Now, every pair of eyes felt like a blade cutting into her skin. For the first time, she felt truly cornered, the air cold against her back. Sweat slid down the curve of her neck, tracing a path beneath the collar of her dress.
Emory's gaze sharpened with each passing second. Her throat was tight, her voice trapped somewhere she couldn't reach.
Then, from beyond the crowd, a voice broke the tension.
"Emory!"
Vaughn appeared, his tailored suit immaculate, his smile warm as he crossed the floor. He took Emory's hand in a firm, familiar grip. "When did you get here? Why didn't you tell me ahead of time?"
Emory's expression eased slightly at the sight of him. He drew in a breath. "I was already arriving late. I didn't want anyone to make a fuss announcing me."
"You're not late at all," Vaughn replied easily. "The party hasn't even officially begun."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Anna.
Her stomach lurched. She looked away instinctively, avoiding his gaze.
Had Vaughn already guessed that she had deliberately bought a fake gift for him?
Before she could spiral further, Vaughn turned back to Emory. "Emory, someone just told me about Anna mentioning your appraisal. It's all a misunderstanding."
Emory's brows lifted. "A misunderstanding?"
Vaughn's tone was unhurried, steady. "Here's what happened. A few days ago, Anna told me she'd found something special to give me for my birthday."
"When I saw it, I recognized Ivan's craftsmanship. I liked it immediately. But Anna was worried—it might be a forgery—so she said she wanted an expert to look at it."
"She knew you and I go back a long way, so she asked if she could bring it to you. I told her yes."
"Later, I thought about how busy you are in Border Ridge City. I didn't want to trouble you, so I had my people find a few other experts."
"Maybe the counterfeiter's skill was too good, or maybe those experts weren't worth their salt, but they told me it was genuine."
"I passed that on to Anna, so when she presented it today, she believed it was authentic—and she mentioned your name. That's how this little mix-up happened."
"So really, this one's on me."
His words were seamless, the chain of events laid out with practiced ease. He took the weight of the mistake entirely onto himself.
In an instant, Anna's image shifted back toward that of a dutiful granddaughter, someone who had simply followed Vaughn's guidance.
Most of the guests accepted it without question.
"Ms. Williams meant well. She was just deceived."
"It's all a misunderstanding. Vaughn's lucky to have such a thoughtful granddaughter."
"Exactly. And on Vaughn's birthday, a little drama just makes things livelier."
The room hummed with agreement, but Amelia, Dorian, and Pearl exchanged glances.
If Vaughn's version were true, why had Anna looked so stricken moments ago? Why had her lips gone pale, her composure shattered?
It was obvious she had been completely at a loss for how to explain herself. Vaughn's story was nothing more than a shield.
Amelia's gaze flickered.
Anna had brought a counterfeit marble flower vase. Amelia hoped she had been genuinely duped… and not scheming.
Vaughn's arrival signaled that the party was officially underway.
With a single look, he directed the servants to remove the birthday gifts, closing the curtain on the scene.
He smiled as he invited the guests to enjoy the food and wine, mentioning that a cello performance would follow shortly. He wanted everyone to have a good time.
Amelia had been ready to join Dorian for something to eat when Vaughn gestured toward her.
"Amelia, come with me to the study. I have something to discuss."
She didn't know what he intended, but she nodded to Dorian and followed him inside.
The moment they sat down, Vaughn's public smile faded. He sighed, the sound weighted. "Amelia, tonight… you've been put through more than you should have."
She looked up. "Why say that?"
He drew a deeper breath. "The servants told me everything."
"Anna asked you what you had brought, in front of everyone. Then she made comments—some subtle, some not—about your background. I know how the others reacted. It wasn't right…"
"It's fine," Amelia said, shaking her head. "I don't care what people think of me. As long as you enjoy your birthday, that's enough."
Her words seemed to strike him. He exhaled slowly. "I know you're a good, sensible girl."
"Anna used to be that way too, back in middle school. Quiet. Well-mannered. Not vain, not selfish. But now…"
Outside the door, Anna stood frozen, a bowl of ginseng soup in her hands. Her fingers tightened imperceptibly around the porcelain.