Chapter 17

Emma dropped her gaze, her lips pressed tight.

The thought of bowing her head to Eleanor-an orphan raised in obscurity-burned hotter than fire.

She was from the influential Todd family. If she actually apologized in front of this crowd, her reputation in the socialite circle would be obliterated.

Death itself felt kinder.

Her thoughts spun wildly, scrambling for escape.Then, in a sudden act of desperation, her knees buckled and she let herself collapse backward.

But Eleanor had seen it coming. She shifted a single step aside, and let Emma fall without interference.

Her body smacked the cold marble floor.

Gasps broke through the silence. The crowd stared,stunned by the spectacle. Eleanor's lashes lowered, her eyes cool as she took in Emma's trembling lashes and the faint, deliberate flutter of breath. A smirk tugged at her lips-such a cheap little trick, so predictable it was almost boring.

Turning to the staff member frozen nearby, she spoke evenly, her tone edged with authority. "Emma was quite clear earlier-she promised to cover every minor expense for today's gala. Don't just stand there. Start drafting the invoices. Our guests shouldn't have to wait on the Todd family's generosity."

The staff member, rattled by the string of commotions, didn't dare delay another second.

"Right away, ma'am!" he replied, hurrying off to begin tallying invoices.

Several minor families, who had scraped their way into the event through favors and connections,could hardly contain their excitement. They darted eagerly toward the displays, searching for pieces priced under a hundred thousand, grinning as if they had just struck gold. Meanwhile, Emma lay sprawled on the icy marble,feigning her swoon. But Eleanor's pointed words cut so deep she nearly fainted for real.

Her fists clenched so hard that her nails pierced her own skin, sharp pain barely containing the rage boiling inside her.

This bitch!

How dared Eleanor humiliate her like this in front of everyone?

She would make sure Eleanor paid dearly-she would see to it that Eleanor's life turned into a waking nightmare.

From the crowd, Jonny's conflicted eyes lingered on Eleanor.

Bathed in the glow of the chandeliers, she stood poised and serene, her calm elegance radiating like light itself. Her presence drew every gaze,leaving onlookers momentarily breathless.

When had she become this striking? No-"striking" wasn't even the right word. It was something more,something intangible, an aura that couldn't be denied.

Jonny's chest tightened. Was this truly the same Eleanor who once cowered, docile and submissive under his shadow?

And how in the world had she learned to analyze ancient paintings with such precision?

Impossible.

She had grown up in obscurity, without access to teachers or resources.

Convincing himself, Jonny scoffed inwardly. This must have been nothing more than blind luck-an accidental flash of insight.

That had to be it. Clinging to that thought, he forced himself to relax.

Across the hall, Nolan's eyes followed Eleanor with quiet intensity. His lips curved faintly, the ghost o a smirk tugging at them.

This woman-such a sly little thing.

When she played at innocence, she looked soft,almost harmless. But the moment her real edge surfaced, she became something else entirely-clever, sharp, almost dangerous.

The contrast only made her more compelling.

As if she had sensed his gaze, Eleanor's eyes shifted toward Nolan and collided directly with his.

For an instant, the world seemed to still. Her pulse stumbled, beating wildly as though it might burst through her chest.

Heat crept into her cheeks, and she tore her gaze away, flustered, as if his stare had stripped her bare in front of everyone.

One look from him carried a weight that made breathing difficult. The fleeting moment passed, swallowed by the hum of the exhibition.

Soon after, the event wound to a smooth close without further incident.

Later, in the quiet of the VIP lounge, Nolan pressed his fingers to his temples, his eyes narrowing slightly as he shifted his focus to Ryland. "Have you found anything on the Soul Surgeon?"

Ryland's brow tightened, his expression shadowed by unease.

"I ran a covert sweep," he responded slowly. "On the surface, nothing stands out. But..."

His words faltered, caught between caution and duty.

Nolan tilted his head, his gaze steady, his tone calm yet carrying command. "Finish what you started."