Suddenly, Whitney’s hand was slapped, and Roselyn snatched the shirt away.

Her arm was still smarting from the last time Whitney and her thug buddy roughed her up at the club. Today, she was hell–bent on humiliating Whitney.

With a sneer, Roselyn said, “Whitney, this is a Hermès counter. Can you read it? Do you think you’re still that jet–setting socialite who used to be front row at fashion shows?

And you, sales clerks, times have changed. Why are you letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry in here to pollute the view of us esteemed VIPs?”

The clerk, eager to appease Roselyn, immediately looked at Whitney with disdain.

Tiana was about to rush forward in Whitney’s defense, but Whitney stopped her with a hand.

Roselyn picked up a dress with an air of superiority, “This is Monica’s custom gown worth 880 grand. You’re with some nobody who can’t even afford my medical bills. Do you think you can afford a scrap of this dress? And what are you wearing?”

She viciously pulled at Whitney’s collar to inspect her clothes, “Monet? Ha, must be a knockoff!

Everyone, take a look! The once untouchable Ms. Valentine is wearing fakes now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Sales clerks, be careful, don’t let the poor steal anything!”

Whitney wanted to laugh, curious about what L would say if he heard someone questioning the authenticity of his clothes.

“Shouldn’t you be throwing out this down–and–out who can’t afford to buy anything with a black card?” Roselyn thought smugly, sure that publicly stepping on Whitney would earn her points with Monica.

The clerk hesitated, moving to usher Whitney out.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Whitney produced her smartphone, with a gold–embossed black card resting on top. She approached the counter and calmly said, “I’ll take the entire collection in this store, including the dress she’s holding – the precious gown Monica wants.” She glanced back at Roselyn with a mocking smile.

store fell into an eerie silence, punctuated

faces transformed,

black card? Clerk, check her card. It must be a fake!”

without batting an eyelid,

turned livid, and the

people like you. Oops, my bad, I tore it a bit. But ragged clothes suit a vile person like Monica anyway. Here, take it

“Tiana, you bitch, you…”

the matter, can’t afford a black card and still not scurrying away, waiting for me to kick your

clutching the torn gown, her face devoid

immediately called, whining, “Monica, Whitney tore your

handle this one thing.

just fair–weather friends. If it were not for Monica’s current power, she would not bother sucking up. Holding back her rage, she informed

1/3

14:59

Chapter 22

the whole

say that her nobody boyfriend couldn’t even pay your medical bills, and now she

my mother, Ha, my dad has already forgiven my mom, and she’s working on something. Wait and see how long Whitney can

immediately flattered, “Yvonne

the Valentine Mansion’s

her tricks to please Preston, and after his mood visibly

about how Whitney had exposed her past. Fortunately, Preston had quashed the trending searches, and the taunts from the other high society

finally agreed to Simon and Monica’s engagement. But Monica still needs a dowry. If we gave the East Side resort as a generous gift,

it’s hers,” he

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