Chapter235 Mine
Arthur felt Miranda's contempt like a blade sliding between his ribs.
The rage hit him all at once. Hot, humiliating, with nowhere to go.
His right hand curled into a fist without him meaning it to. The tendons in his hand stood out sharp against his skin.
Miranda clocked it immediately. The mockery in her eyes went up a notch.
Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Going to hit me, Arthur? Right here, in front of all these people?"
That did it.
The anger drained out of him like water through a crack.
He wasn't an idiot. This was the Pullman Estate business social. Half the room was old money. The other half made the news.
If he touched Prescott's granddaughter-in-law in this building, Martinez Group would be in freefall by morning.
His jaw locked. His chest heaved.
He had nothing.
A sharp breath pushed out through his nose. Both hands shoved into his pockets. He turned and walked away without a word.
Quickly. Eyes forward.
Everyone watching knew exactly what it was.
Harrison had seen the whole thing. His brow was tight as he turned to Miranda.
"Don't let it get to you. I thought Arthur was only trying to defend his sister. I had no idea he would go that far."
He didn't get to finish.
"Drop it, Harrison."
Miranda looked at him. Her eyes were clear, calm, and completely without warmth.
"I've already said everything I need to say to you. We're done. We don't owe each other a thing."
She had no use for Arthur's brand of nastiness, that was true.
But Harrison was a different kind of problem. He had hurt her in ways that took years to understand, and the best she could do now was treat him like someone she had never met.
Something moved behind his eyes. Pain, quick and real.
She saw it. It landed nowhere.
She actually found it a little funny. Who exactly was he putting on a show for?
Her voice stayed flat. "Part of the reason Arthur came at me tonight is because of you. You standing next to me is part of the problem. I need you to understand that."
She turned and walked away without looking back.
Harrison didn't move. He watched her disappear into the crowd.
His chest felt hollowed out.
Up on the second floor, in a dim room overlooking the hall, Clifton stood at the one-way glass.
He was dressed in a server's uniform. His face was partially disguised.
He had watched every second of it.
Something cold and quiet passed through his eyes.
She drew people in. She always had.
Too bad for all of them.
She was his. End of story.
His gaze followed her back down to the floor below. She had already moved on, smooth and unhurried, working the room like she was born to it. Laughing with executives. Swapping cards with politicians. Completely at ease.
Something swelled in his chest. Full and warm and almost embarrassingly proud.
She deserved everything. His name. His power. Every door his influence could open. He would hand all of it over without hesitation just to watch her rise.
She was built for the top. Tonight only made that clearer.
Then he pulled his focus back where it needed to be.
Across the room, a man was making quiet contact with someone he had no business talking to.
That was the real reason Clifton was here.
Back on the floor, Miranda had already locked onto something promising.
In under an hour, she had identified a government-backed clean energy project that could give her company's IPO a significant push. The official overseeing it was a woman in her forties, direct and perceptive, who had taken an immediate liking to Miranda's clarity and confidence.
They had connected easily. By the end of the conversation, Miranda had her number and an open invitation to the upcoming bid.
One major problem solved.
She didn't slow down. She kept working the room. Every conversation tonight was a potential connection, and she intended to use every one.
Across town, the Martinez household got a report.
"Ma'am. Miranda publicly humiliated Young Master Arthur at the social. She told him she would never, under any circumstances, be interested in him."
Mrs. Martinez's teacup shattered in her hand.
"She said WHAT."
The absolute nerve.
A twice-divorced castoff riding on the Prescott name, and she had the audacity to humiliate her son in public?
Her son, who had never lacked for anything. Who had been protected and pampered his entire life. Miranda had no right to look down on him.
"Get the car. Pullman Estate. Now."
She swept into the ballroom minutes later. Her eyes found Miranda before she had even fully crossed the threshold.
She wanted to walk straight over and slap the composure right off that woman's face.
She stopped herself.
Miranda was Clifton's wife. Hands off.
But there were other ways to take someone apart in public. Cleaner ways. More satisfying, even.
Miranda was deep in conversation with the government official when she heard her name cut through the noise behind her.
Sharp. Deliberate.
She turned.
Mrs. Martinez was already closing the gap, her expression a careful blend of graciousness and contempt.
"Miranda." Her voice carried just enough for the surrounding guests to catch every word. "This social exists to bring together genuine leaders. Everyone here has earned their spot."
She let that sit, her eyes making a slow, pointed pass over Miranda from head to toe.
"Being Mrs. Huo is a fine title. No one is questioning that." Her smile thinned. "But a title doesn't make you qualified to be here. You don't belong in this room. I think you should leave. Right now."