Chapter 92
Amelia's face went pale. She opened her mouth but couldn't get any words out.
The looks from people around us became knowing.
"Enough!"
A cold, stern voice cut in.
James had walked over at some point, his face so dark it could drip water.
Alfonso followed behind James, his brows tightly furrowed, clearly unhappy about this scene at his birthday party.
"What's going on?" James's gaze swept over Gwyneth, whose face was covered in red wine and who looked completely disheveled, then at the wine stains on my dress, and finally his eyes landed on my face, sharp as a knife.
"James..." Amelia immediately put on an aggrieved expression, tears welling up. "It's all my fault. I didn't manage my friend well and made Sophia angry, which led to this. Please don't blame Sophia..."
Her words seemed to defend me, but every sentence was actually accusing me of making a big deal out of nothing and being vindictive.
Gwyneth also covered her face and started crying. "I just accidentally spilled a little red wine, and Ms. Brown got angry and threw wine directly at me. My dress was custom-made and cost over a hundred thousand dollars, and now it's completely ruined!"
Leroy chimed in from the side. "Mr. Smith, we all saw it. Your wife deliberately threw wine at someone. She's being way too unreasonable."
The girl in the dark blue dress also nodded. "Yes, Amelia kindly introduced us, but over such a small thing, Ms. Brown just attacked without warning. If word gets out, what will people say about her? I'm afraid the Smith family's reputation will be affected too."
They paint me as a jealous, petty, rude shrew.
James's face grew darker and darker. He looked at me and said in a low voice, "Sophia, apologize."
I met his gaze and found it laughable.
This was the man I once loved.
Once again, without asking what happened, just listening to a few words from others, he decided I was guilty.
"Why should I apologize?" I asked calmly.
"You deliberately threw wine on someone, and you're asking why?" James frowned. "Sophia, today is Mr. Schmidt's birthday party. You shouldn't make a scene at an occasion like this."
"Make a scene?" I repeated the words and laughed. "James, which eye of yours saw me making a scene? She threw wine at me first. I just threw it back."
"But you still shouldn't have gotten into a fight with someone at an occasion like this," James emphasized in his tone.
"Don't you think what you're saying is pretty hypocritical?" I shot back.
"Sophia, why do you have to make trouble at an occasion like this?"
I said expressionlessly, "Did I make trouble? I just want some justice."
James paused.
Amelia quickly grabbed his sleeve, her voice choked up. "James, don't blame Sophia. It's my fault... I shouldn't have meddled... Gwyneth, why don't you apologize to Sophia, and we'll call it even, okay?"
Gwyneth muttered reluctantly, "I already said it wasn't on purpose. Why should I apologize..."
"Whether it was on purpose or not, we'll know once we check the security footage," I said coldly. "Mr. Schmidt, could you please have someone pull up the surveillance? If I threw wine at someone for no reason, I would apologize immediately. But if she made the first move—"
I looked at Gwyneth, my tone chilling. "Then I want her to apologize to me publicly and compensate me for emotional distress and dress cleaning fees."
Alfonso had been silently watching this scene, and only now did he slowly speak. "Ms. Brown is right. Whether it was intentional or not will be clear from the surveillance."
"Nico, pull up the footage."
"Mr. Schmidt!" Gwyneth panicked. "That's not necessary... It's such a small matter, why make such a big deal out of it..."
"This is not a small matter." Alfonso's expression was serious. "Someone making trouble at my birthday party—if I don't handle it properly and people gossip about it, how can I show my face?"
Amelia's face changed slightly, and she quickly tried to smooth things over. "Mr. Schmidt, it's really not necessary. This matter isn't that big of a deal. We can resolve it privately among ourselves."
"Gwyneth, hurry up and apologize to Sophia!"
Gwyneth bit her lip and reluctantly spoke. "I'm sorry. I accidentally spilled wine on you. Please forgive me."
I snorted coldly. "Use your brain. Being used as someone's pawn and still feeling smug about it—you'd probably be sold and still help count the money with a smile. I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."
Gwyneth's face flushed red. "Shut up!"
"Even if I shut up, it won't change the fact that you're an idiot."
I looked at Alfonso again. "I still insist on checking the surveillance to get to the bottom of this, so certain people won't just apologize with their mouths while refusing to accept it in their hearts."
Alfonso looked to Nico, who was standing nearby.
Nico went to pull the surveillance footage, exported the video to his phone, and played it. The footage clearly showed:
Gwyneth actively walked toward me, carrying her wine. There was nothing on the floor to trip her, but her wrist deliberately tilted, and the entire glass of wine splashed toward me.
If I hadn't dodged in time, I wouldn't have been so lucky to only get a few drops on my dress hem. Then I picked up another glass of wine and accurately threw it back at her.
The truth was out.
The onlookers murmured in low voices, their eyes toward Gwyneth and Amelia becoming subtle.
James watched the surveillance footage, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, his face grim.
Alfonso looked at Gwyneth and said sternly, "Ms. Blake, what do you have to say?"
Gwyneth lowered her head, her voice so small it was almost inaudible. "I was wrong..."
"You shouldn't be saying that to me," Alfonso said.
Gwyneth bit her lip and bowed to me. "Ms. Brown, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have deliberately thrown wine at you."
"What else?" I asked.
Gwyneth was stunned. "What?"
"You just said I 'take up space without doing anything,' that I 'should take the initiative to divorce,' and that I 'haven't eaten anything good'—don't you need to apologize for those words?" I raised an eyebrow.
Gwyneth's face went deathly pale, and she looked at Amelia.
Amelia looked away.
Gwyneth could only bite the bullet and repeat her apologies sentence by sentence.
When she finished, Alfonso said lightly, "Ms. Blake, you gossiped about people behind their backs at my party and stirred up trouble. You have no manners. Please leave now. The Schmidt Villa doesn't welcome rude guests like you."
Gwyneth looked thunderstruck but didn't dare say a word in defense. She covered her face, crying as she ran out.
Alfonso looked at Leroy and the girl in the dark blue dress. "You came with Ms. Blake, didn't you? Please leave as well."
They looked embarrassed and left directly.
Finally, Alfonso's gaze fell on Amelia.
Amelia's body stiffened, and she explained, "Mr. Schmidt, I... I didn't know Gwyneth would do this... I just kindly introduced them..."
"Ms. Martinez." Alfonso interrupted her, his voice calm but authoritative. "I'm old, but I'm not blind or stupid. If you hadn't deliberately encouraged them, how would they dare to do this?"
Amelia's eyes reddened, and tears fell. "Mr. Schmidt, I know I was wrong... I really just didn't expect..."
"Forget it." Mr. Schmidt waved his hand. "For the sake of you saving my grandson, I won't pursue this matter."
"I hope Ms. Martinez remembers—be honest in your dealings. Playing clever tricks will eventually backfire on you."
Amelia lowered her head, her fingers twisting together. "Yes, Mr. Schmidt is right."
"However, Ms. Brown, I don't recall having invited you."