Whitney raised an eyebrow and looked at Monica with amusement as if she were watching a court jester perform.
Standing beside her, L. towered with an impeccable posture, blatantly ignoring Monica as if she were beneath
his notice.
‘Let’s get going,” he said, turning with an air of distinction.
Whitney followed him, delicate and soft, which only made him seem more imposing.
Simon watched from behind, his eyes simmering with an intense, fiery anger,
“Whitney!” He barked, halting her in her tracks.
Monica’s face soured instantly.
Whitney paused, and L. glanced at her. “I need to take a call. The driver will pick you up. Can you handle that?”
She nodded with a faint smile.
With a cool glance back, Whitney watched Simon approach, eyeing L as he walked away to take his call. “Who the hell is that guy?” Simon demanded.
“None of your damn business.”
“How can you associate with riffraff? Whitney, have you sunk so low?”
“At least I’m not scavenging for coins in the gutter.”
Her words stung Monica and Simon, and onlookers struggled to suppress their laughter.
Monica’s face turned icy while Simon’s expression grew colder. He grabbed Whitney’s hand and sneered, “Riffraff without a car, right? He’s probably riding a motorcycle. I’ll take you home!”
The sound of his car keys jingled, and the headlights of a Lamborghini flashed.
Monica feigned concern as she approached. “Oh dear sister, you must have walked here, right? You should be careful, especially being pregnant, even if the father’s identity is a mystery. Let Simon and me take you home. What if something happens to you on that motorcycle?”
The elite ladies nearby cast disdainful glances at Whitney. As beautiful as she was, it baffled them why she would be with a thug.
Whitney remained silent.
roar of an ultra–luxury car approached, and
car, but the consecutive numbers on the license
something even the elite of Banyan City
Whose car was this?
driver stepped out, respectfully calling, “Ms. Valentine, your car is
L’s directive. With a knowing smile, Whitney swept past the
of exhaust for the Valentine
involved with? That license
1/3
15:00
Chapter 27
scorn. “She’s ruined. She’s just latched onto some guy with
core but feigning sorrow, added, “She’s
sour. How could Whitney know a
him. Whitney was supposed to be his–all
Whitney traveled in separate cars,
her, “Did
Tiana to drug Monica and take her to
dog meat to
witnessed her supposed
Monica–just as she stepped into high society, you kicked her out again. And that resort contract won’t do her any
Whitney replied, distracted by her fake husband and missing her nemesis’s
villa, Whitney alighted from the car. L, already there, stood elegantly, smoking a cigarette–a mature man
to wait
her
them, her face softening. “They’re getting old,” she said. “My mother gave them to me. They’ve been with me through everything. I should’ve picked them up days ago. Thank you for
L
the evening breeze like an
at her lips, and his
my dogs!” She said, stepping
“Hmph.”
imposing Bugatti behind her. “But you really shouldn’t use that license plate. The cops might not like
mouth twitched in
grimaced, feeling sorry for the plate for
headed towards
had been at an important event. “Did you come back from a trip, or did
and deep gaze were
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