Chapter72 It's Actually Mr. Prescott
Castillo's words were like slaps across Harrison and Ariana's faces.
Especially the word "thieves" made the usually self-important Harrison's face change colors repeatedly, turning green then pale, as colorful as a palette.
The guests around them who'd initially just been watching the spectacle now looked at them with undisguised contempt and scrutiny.
Whispers buzzed like annoying mosquitoes in their ears.
"What's going on? The Whitmore CEO is taking his ex-wife's things to give to his new girlfriend?"
"Sounds like it was from her grandfather. That's just... shameless."
"Who's that woman? She looks so innocent, but she's actually this kind of person."
Ariana's expression turned extremely ugly.
She'd wanted to flaunt in front of Miranda today that she was the ultimate winner, but Castillo's few words had directly nailed her to the pillory of shame as "mistress" and "thief"!
Thinking this, Ariana forced down the humiliation in her heart and removed the brooch from her chest.
She squeezed out a smile uglier than crying, facing Miranda, her voice laced with poison: "Cousin, since you want it so badly, I'll return it to you."
"Make sure you hold on to it."
The moment the words fell, a flash of intense viciousness crossed Ariana's eyes. Her wrist holding the brooch turned, and her five fingers suddenly released.
She wanted this brooch to fall to the ground.
She wanted Miranda, in front of everyone, to bend down like a dog, squat, and pick up what she'd graciously given from the floor.
"You!"
Miranda's expression changed. Seeing the brooch carrying Grandfather's last wishes about to crash onto the cold, smooth marble floor, she didn't think, just hurriedly reached out to catch it.
But the brooch fell too fast. Her fingertips were ultimately a step too slow.
Just when everyone thought this delicate brooch would shatter into pieces, a large hand with distinct knuckles shot out from the side like lightning and steadily caught the silver flash in midair.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
The smug smile on Ariana's face instantly stiffened. She looked to the side in fury, wanting to see who dared ruin her plan.
But what met her eyes was a man wearing an exquisite silver mask, sitting quietly in a wheelchair.
Though he was seated, the natural nobility and oppressive aura emanating from him felt like an invisible mountain, suffocating everyone.
"You..."
Ariana had just started to question him when she heard an irrepressible exclamation erupt from the surrounding crowd.
"Oh my God, it's Mr. Prescott!"
"Why is he here?"
Mr. Prescott?
The heir of the Prescott family?
Amid the rising and falling exclamations around her, Ariana instantly realized.
This man in the wheelchair was actually the legendary heir of the Prescott family, the one who could make all families tremble with a mere gesture. Whether in the business world or on the underworld map, he was the true king.
Clifton paid no attention to the commotion around him. His slender fingers lightly rubbed the brooch in his hand, then he looked up and extended his hand toward Miranda.
His voice came through the mask, emotionless.
"Miss Lancaster, hold on to your things. Don't drop them again."
Just from this small distance, Ariana could already feel the pressure emanating from the man.
She was swept by one glance from those eyes hidden behind the mask yet sharp as a hawk's, and felt her blood freeze throughout her body. Her heart contracted sharply, and she was so frightened she unconsciously took a large step back.
If she hadn't been clinging tightly to Harrison's arm, she probably would have fallen on the spot and completely embarrassed herself.
Harrison's expression was equally grave.
He looked at the man in the wheelchair. Though the other party was looking up at him, the powerful aura emanating from him made Harrison feel unprecedented pressure.
But a businessman's instinct still made him seize this rare opportunity. He stepped forward, trying to make his voice sound steady.
"Celeste, I've long admired you. Our Whitmore has a new energy project recently. I wonder if you'd be interested..."
Halfway through, Clifton coldly interrupted him.
"Today, I came to attend a charity gala." He said flatly. "Not to discuss business."
After speaking, he didn't even look at Harrison again. With one hand, he controlled the wheelchair's direction and silently merged into the crowd.
Only after that powerful oppressive feeling completely disappeared did Harrison realize his back had somehow broken out in a cold sweat.
Miranda clutched the recovered brooch tightly. It seemed to still carry the warmth of Clifton's fingertips, warming her cold palm with a strange comfort.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in her heart, and said softly to Castillo beside her: "It's about to start. Let's go sit down."
"Yeah." Castillo glared viciously at the shameless pair across from them before leaving with Miranda.
In her heart, Harrison had now claimed the throne of the number one scumbag.
Not long after divorcing his ex-wife, he got together with her cousin. He'd completely shattered the lower limit of shamelessness.
Ariana looked around and found that quite a few people's gazes were still falling on her intentionally or unintentionally, full of contempt and mockery.
Thinking of how she'd almost been scared into falling by Clifton's single glance, a venomous anger surged in her heart.
A disabled waste, instead of staying home waiting to die, coming out to scare people for no reason!
Feeling utterly humiliated, Ariana no longer cared about maintaining any socialite grace. She pulled the still-dazed Harrison and quickly walked toward the charity auction venue.
After entering and sitting in the third row, Ariana looked up and saw that Miranda and Castillo had been arranged in the first row, the position with the best view and reserved for the most distinguished guests.
Why?
What right did that bitch have to sit in the first row!
Intense jealousy gnawed at her heart like a venomous snake.
Miranda, you made me lose face so badly in public today. I absolutely won't let you get away with this.
Ariana clutched her phone tightly, her knuckles turning white from excessive force.
Taking advantage of Harrison socializing with people beside him, she quickly opened a chat window with a black avatar and typed a line.
[You can proceed. Post according to what I told you.]
[After it's done, I'll transfer you another fifty thousand dollars.]
Almost the instant the message was sent, the other party replied with a concise word.
[Received.]
Seeing this message, a smug smile finally reappeared on Ariana's face.
She raised her head, looking at Miranda's graceful silhouette, her eyes flashing with undisguised, bone-deep malice.
Miranda, just wait for your complete downfall.