Chapter 195

The rhythmic clacking of high heels against the polished floor was sharp and urgent, like the pounding of an angry drum.

Mrs. Foster, flanked by a group of affluent women, stormed towards Claire. Without a word of explanation, Mrs. Foster raised her hand, aiming to slap Claire.

Claire frowned, bewildered, as she didn't recognize this woman.

Stepping back to dodge the slap, she calmly said, "Ma'am, I think you've got the wrong person."

Seeing Claire evade her blow only fueled Mrs. Foster's anger further, contorting her once beautiful face into a mask of fury.

"You shameless little harlot," Mrs. Foster spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You must be quite the tease in bed, playing innocent now."

The entourage of well-dressed women behind her glared at Claire as if she had seduced their own husbands, their faces twisted in disgust and disdain. Insults flew at her like poison-tipped arrows.

"Just look at her, the little seductress," sneered a woman in a shimmering gold evening gown, her voice sharp and piercing. "Who knows how many beds she's crawled into, flaunting herself like a cheap floozy."

certain they had mistaken her

took a deep breath and tried to reason with them, "I've never done

quite the actress," another woman with voluminous curls scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. Her jowls quivered with each word. "I've seen your type before, dirty little trollop

pudgy finger near Claire's face,

by selling yourself, no doubt. You think you're young

some

slight and frail, Claire stumbled

catch her, steadying her

off, all of you. Don't say I didn't warn you-if you don't want your husbands' businesses to

birthday, but really to curry favor with Mrs. Foster. They believed that by ingratiating themselves with the lady of the Foster family, their husbands

as just an effeminate man, they didn't take his

Who do you think you are? You think

filthy little bed-jumper and a pathetic sissy, birds of a feather flock together. Neither of you is

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