Chapter 176

Chapter 176

Last night in that hallway, there were only the two of us. Yet someone had been lurking in the shadows, taking photos from deliberately misleading angles.

I stared at the scattered photographs on the carpet, finding the whole thing utterly absurd.

This cheap trick of forced perspective photography, this lowlife tactic—and she actually dared use it as leverage to interrogate me.

Looking at Alberta, whose face was distorted beyond recognition by jealousy, I didn't even feel the desire to explain.

I released her chin and straightened up.

I pulled out my phone from my purse, opened the browser, and directly typed in Jocelyn Rochester's name.

As the head of one of Europe's top financial conglomerates, Jocelyn's scandals were effortlessly searchable online.

I casually scrolled through a few pages, opened the image gallery, and shoved the screen right in Alberta's face.

"Take a good look." I stared at her coldly, my voice devoid of any inflection. "This is from last month—Jocelyn with a Hollywood actress on his private yacht. This is from last week—him and a French supermodel spotted together at a Paris hotel. And this one, the daughter of some British earl, one of your fiancé's lady friends. His roster of mistresses could circle Lake Zurich entirely."

I waved the phone screen in front of her eyes, mockery dripping from my tone. "If you're really that bored, take this list and hunt down every single woman in these photos to settle scores with them. Coming here to throw a tantrum at me only proves you're not just a bitter shrew, but a blind one at that."

Alberta stared at the screen, utterly humiliated.

As the precious daughter of the Medici family, how could she not know about Jocelyn's philandering?

She simply didn't dare confront Jocelyn, so she vented her rage on a woman who appeared to have no powerful backing.

Having her fig leaf torn away in public completely shattered Alberta's composure.

"Shut up! You bitch!" Alberta shrieked, her voice twisted beyond recognition, piercing my eardrums.

She suddenly broke free from the bodyguards' restraint and lunged at me like a rabid lioness.

Her hands reached out, sharp nails aimed straight at my face, attempting to claw at my hair.

My eyes turned cold.

In the slums, the best way to deal with this kind of mad dog was to beat her until she didn't dare even whimper.

Instead of retreating, I advanced, precisely gripping her flailing wrist and twisting it downward with force.

Alberta cried out in pain, her body involuntarily pitching forward.

Without pause, I raised my other hand and delivered a series of slaps, alternating left and right.

Several resounding slaps landed solidly on her well-maintained face. I used my full strength, showing no mercy whatsoever.

Alberta was beaten dizzy, blood instantly gushing from her nose.

Her originally delicate cheeks rapidly swelled and reddened. In just over ten seconds, her face had ballooned like a pig's head.

She collapsed onto the carpet, clutching her face, unable even to cry, only managing painful whimpers.

"Throw her out." I took a wet wipe and cleaned my hands, disgustedly tossing the tissue onto her face.

Antonio waved his hand. Two bodyguards dragged Alberta up by her arms like a dead dog and tossed her directly out of the VIP room.

I'd lost all interest in continuing to browse jewelry. I left with Antonio and headed straight back to the estate.

As soon as I walked into the main building's grand hall, Vincent descended from his second-floor study. He wore a black cashmere sweater, his strides quick. Seeing me, he strode forward with long steps, his arm extending to pull me tightly into his embrace.

He kissed the top of my head, his voice low. "Why are you back so early? Didn't find anything you liked?"

"Ran into a rabid dog. Ruined my mood." I leaned against him, my tone flat.

Vincent released me, his brow furrowing slightly, his dark eyes instantly turning cold. "Who bothered you?"

I walked to the sofa and sat down, taking the hot tea a servant handed me and sipping it before briefly recounting what happened at the jewelry store.

"Alberta from the Medici family." I set down my teacup and looked at him. "She came at me with some misleading photos from last night's gala—forced perspective shots of me and Jocelyn. She threw a fit, so I beat her face to a pulp and had the bodyguards throw her out."

I expected Vincent to think I'd acted too brazenly.

After all, the Corleone family had only just established a foothold in Europe. Directly beating the Medici family's precious daughter to such a state would inevitably invite unnecessary trouble.

Unexpectedly, Vincent's expression grew extremely grave. He sat down beside me, grasping my hand in return, his black eyes churning with intense menace and concern.

"Well done." Vincent's voice was cold, carrying unquestionable favoritism. "But next time, let Antonio handle it. Don't hurt your hands."

He paused, his tone becoming extremely serious. "However, Alberta is a notorious madwoman. Though the Medici family has declined, they still have deep roots throughout Europe with profound legacy. They're troublesome adversaries."

"Are you afraid I've caused you trouble?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid she'll hurt you." Vincent squeezed my fingers, his gaze brooking no argument. "Alberta is extremely vindictive. She doesn't dare move against me, but she'll definitely retaliate against you in the shadows. Starting today, I'm doubling your bodyguard detail. Without my permission, you're not to go out alone."

Watching him treat this as such a serious threat, warmth bloomed in my heart.

In the Rossi family, Mario only ever weighed pros and cons, pushing me out as a human shield.

But Vincent—no matter how much trouble I stirred up, his first thought was always my safety.

"Alright." I squeezed his hand in return, leaned over to kiss the corner of his lips, and soothed him. "Don't worry. I'm not some soft target for anyone to bully. If she dares come looking for death, I'll make sure she never returns."

Vincent wrapped his arm around my waist and deepened the kiss until my breathing became labored before releasing me.

That evening, warm crystal chandeliers illuminated the dining room. Vincent and I were having dinner—the chef had specially prepared French escargot and beef Wellington.

Halfway through the meal, a servant hurried into the dining room, her expression somewhat strange.

She held a tablet in her hands and approached me, bowing her head slightly.

"Miss Elena, you've gone viral online." The servant handed me the tablet.

I took the tablet. The screen displayed Twitter's trending topics. At the very top was: #Vincent Corleone's Fiancée Brutally Beats Medici Family Heiress#.

I clicked on the video. The footage was somewhat shaky, clearly filmed secretly on someone's phone by one of the socialites or staff members in the outer hall.

The video clearly captured the entire process of me grabbing Alberta's wrist in the VIP room and slapping her face into a swollen mess, alternating left and right.

The video's finale showed Alberta being tossed out the door by bodyguards like garbage, utterly humiliated.

This video of me teaching Alberta a lesson had already spread across the internet.