Chapter 91
Leroy's face changed unpredictably, and he flew into a rage: "Stop talking nonsense!"
Amelia quickly tried to smooth things over: "Sophia, how can you say such things? Leroy is the heir to Summit Technologies Group. He has a fiancée, and he's not that kind of person. You should apologize."
I responded: "Have you tried? How do you know if he's good in bed or not?"
Amelia was left speechless by my retort.
I snorted: "I didn't say anything wrong, so why should I apologize?"
"Even if someone should apologize, it's not me."
"Who started being rude first? You know it in your heart."
"You bitch, shut up, or I'll kill you."
"Of course, I believe you. You're so powerful, getting rid of me would be like crushing an ant." I clapped my hands. "But..."
I drew out my words: "I may be nothing, but don't forget whose woman I am. If you want to touch me, you'd better ask him first."
James's status and background—might as well use it.
Leroy couldn't find a way to prove his sexual function was fine, and didn't dare lay a hand on me. He trembled with anger.
Seeing her companion humiliated, Gwyneth rolled her eyes, suddenly picked up a glass of red wine, and walked toward me with a smile.
"Ms. Brown, nice to meet you. Let me toast you. We were offensive earlier—please don't take it to heart."
These people were really shrewd.
They knew my relationship with James wasn't good, so they didn't address me as James's wife.
I slightly curved my lips and deliberately corrected her: "I think you should call me Mrs. Smith."
James and I hadn't divorced yet, so we were still married.
Using his influence to threaten others was not a significant issue.
However, anyone who could hang out with Amelia probably wasn't a good person either.
That Gwyneth smiled without warmth: "I'll remember that, Mrs. Smith."
Her eyes rolled, and my heart skipped a beat. I watched her walk up to me, then she twisted her ankle, and the whole glass of red wine splashed straight at me!
I had sensed something was wrong when she approached. I dodged to the side, but a few drops of red wine still splattered on my dress hem.
"I'm sorry!" Gwyneth exclaimed, but her face showed no remorse—instead, she wore a triumphant smile. "I slipped and lost my balance. Ms. Brown, are you okay?"
"The dress seems dirty." She made a big fuss. "Do you need to go clean it up? Even if you clean it, this dress is probably ruined."
The girl in the dark blue dress also came over, pretending to be concerned: "Ms. Brown, even if it won't wash out, you should go deal with it. Otherwise, it looks so bad."
Their voices were not loud, but people nearby noticed the commotion, and many eyes turned our way.
They saw the wine stains on my dress hem, then looked at those young people who were obviously looking for trouble, showing curious or entertained expressions.
Amelia stood to the side, her face full of "concern," but she made no move to help. Instead, she said softly, "Sophia, Gwyneth didn't mean it. Don't blame her."
"This dress... it is a bit troublesome to clean. Why don't you go rest in a guest room upstairs? I'll have someone find you a change of clothes."
She pretended to be very considerate.
I looked down at the few drops of dark red wine stains on my dress hem, then looked up at the girl called Gwyneth.
She was covering her mouth, pretending to be shocked, but the smugness in her eyes was almost overflowing.
"You slipped?" I repeated her words, my tone flat.
"Yes, I'm really sorry." Gwyneth blinked, her apology perfunctory. "Ms. Brown won't get angry with me over a dress, will you?"
"Mr. Smith has more money than he can count. You're not short of money, are you?"
"Oh, I forgot—you and Mr. Smith are about to divorce. Why would he still give you money?"
She looked me up and down: "No wonder you're only wearing such an ordinary dress, dressed so plainly."
The sarcasm in her words was thick.
A few low laughs sounded around us.
I looked at her and smiled.
My smile made Gwyneth freeze for a few seconds, then she frowned: "What are you laughing at?"
"I'm laughing at you for being used and still smiling at her like an idiot," I said slowly. "There's a perfect word to describe you."
"Moron."
Gwyneth's face stiffened, fire flashing in her eyes.
"But—" I changed my tone, reaching out to pick up a glass of red wine from a nearby waiter's tray. "You toasted me, so I should return the favor."
Before I finished speaking, I flicked my wrist, and the entire glass of red wine splashed accurately onto her face!
The dark red liquid ran down her hair and cheeks. Her elaborate hairstyle was ruined, her makeup smeared, and a large stain spread across the front of her pink dress.
Gwyneth stood frozen in place. After a moment, she reacted and let out a scream: "What are you doing!"
"Sorry." I put down the empty glass. "My hand slipped."
"You did that on purpose!" Gwyneth trembled with anger, pointing at my nose. "Sophia! You shrew! I'm going to tell Mr. Smith! Let him teach you a lesson, you ignorant, stupid woman!"
"Go ahead and tell him." I raised an eyebrow. "Perfect timing for everyone to see who started it, who made the first move. We can all go check the security footage together in a bit."
Gwyneth was choked by my words, her face looked pale.
Leroy stepped forward, saying sternly: "Sophia! Don't go too far! Gwyneth said she accidentally spilled on you, but you deliberately threw wine at her!"
"Is that how you were raised? No wonder Mr. Smith doesn't want you. If I were him, I wouldn't want a woman like you as my wife either."
"It's not your place to judge how I was raised." I looked at him coldly. "As for whether she accidentally spilled wine on me, everyone has eyes and can see clearly."
"Should we go get Mr. Schmidt to see who's really causing trouble at his birthday party today?"
"You're clearly the one causing trouble. We just teased you a few times." Gwyneth blocked Amelia, protecting her.
Only then did Amelia "finally" react. She hurried forward to support Gwyneth, pulling out tissues to wipe her face, while saying to me, "Sophia, today is Mr. Schmidt's birthday party. It looks so bad to make such a scene."
"Just apologize to Gwyneth, and we can let this go, okay?"
"Apologize?" I laughed. "Amelia, are your ears or eyes not working? When she threw wine at me just now, why didn't I see you asking her to apologize to me?"
"Now I've just thrown wine back at her, and you're asking me to apologize. You're quite the hypocrite."
Amelia bit her lip, tears welling up: "I... I just don't want to make this bigger. We're all friends—why be so confrontational?"
"Who's friends with you people?" I shot back without mercy. "From the start, you've all been standing around making comments about me, mocking and ridiculing me."
"I'm good-tempered, so I let it slide once or twice, but you still didn't know when to stop. I'm not an idiot who gets insulted without fighting back."
"Sophia, I'm doing this for your own good."
I rolled my eyes dramatically: "Stop using 'for your own good' as an excuse to hurt me."
"You've been quiet these past few days, and I thought you'd changed. But no, Amelia, a dog really can't stop eating shit."
"Now you've gotten better at sowing discord. What, you don't dare come at me yourself, so you incite others to target me?"
"I didn't!" Amelia quickly denied it, tears coming on cue. "Sophia, how can you think that of me? We're family. Of course, I'm on your side. I'm doing this for you..."
"Stop." I interrupted her.
"Again with this 'for your own good.' Can't you use different words?"
"And this 'misunderstanding' you mentioned—do you really think there's a misunderstanding?" I sneered. "I really can't find any misunderstanding. Why don't you explain it?"