Just who is that woman?
Not only has she caught the attention of President Calvin, but she’s also on such intimate terms with Madam Luther?
Several socialites who had just been brushed off by Calvin watched the affectionate interaction between Camilla and Tiffany with undisguised astonishment.
The Calvin family was already beyond their own families’ capacity to offend—what more if the Luther Family got involved?
Not daring to dwell on the implications, they immediately clutched their wine glasses and retreated further into the shadows, desperate to avoid drawing any attention.
Melissa pouted as she observed the cozy scene between Camilla and Tiffany, her expression clearly wounded.
How unfair of Miss Tiffany. First, she steals the man I like, and now she’s taking the woman I admire too?
Seems Camilla doesn’t just charm men—she’s lethal with women as well.
Noticing Melissa’s sulky expression, Calvin arched an eyebrow in amusement.
If Sinclair were here, he’d be drowning in vinegar by now.
Catching sight of Melissa from the corner of her eye, Camilla turned with a gentle smile.
"Melissa, come here quickly."
Taylor had left the capital for Sinclair’s sake, so she had to take good care of his little sister.
Melissa’s gloom vanished in an instant as she hurried over with a bright smile.
"Camilla," she greeted, then hesitated slightly upon spotting Tiffany before adding,
Tiffany had already noticed Melissa’s feelings for Calvin and understood that the girl’s coldness stemmed from a misunderstanding about her relationship with him.
Naturally, she didn’t take it to heart.
"Miss Taylor, this gown suits you perfectly. You look stunning."
Compliments from another woman always felt more gratifying than those from men.
Melissa glanced down at her dress, her long, thick lashes fluttering slightly.
With her brother absent, she had been second-guessing herself.
After all, this gown had been picked out by Vicente—a man with zero fashion sense—and she’d been worried it might not suit her.
"Absolutely," Tiffany nodded earnestly, her expression utterly sincere.
Melissa turned expectations to Camilla, waiting for her response.
"Tiffany’s right," said Camilla, who had just joined the conversation, her beautiful eyes widening in surprise as she glanced between the two.
"No one could pull off that gown better than you."
"You two know each other?
I was just about to introduce you."
"We ran into each other at the mall yesterday," Tiffany explained briefly, flashing a warm smile.
"I really like Miss Taylor—she’s adorable."
And she meant it. Someone like Melissa, whose every emotion played openly across her face, was impossible not to find endearing.
Melissa felt a mix of delight and frustration.
Why couldn’t she bring herself to dis woman?
Their conversation was abruptly cut off by the booming voice of grandpa Porter.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gracing us with your presence."
Grandpa Porter stood on the elevated platform at the center of the grand hall, gazing down with a gratified smile softening his aged features.
"Welcome to the engagement banquet of my granddaughter Sandra and Tyler."
After offering a few words of blessing, he gracefully yielded the stage to Jonathan and others.
Meanwhile, Melissa and Tiffany had somehow struck up a conversation.
Though they’d only just met, it seemed as if they had endless topics to discuss.
Such is the way of women’s friendships—they blossom in an instant.
Standing quietly behind them, Vicente observed the surroundings with an indifferent expression.
"When does the real show begin?"
Calvin sidled up to Camilla, taking a slow sip from his glass before posing the question in a measured tone.
Camilla glanced at the time, her crimson lips parting slightly.
"Less than ten minutes now."
Sinclair actually asked me to protect you," Calvin shook his head, his eyes narrowing with amusement.
"From what I can see, wherever you appear, it’s everyone else who needs protection."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Camilla’s lips.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Of course," Calvin replied coolly, his gaze drifting toward the approaching figure surrounded by an entourage.
"Grandpa Porter is here."
"Camilla, the banquet is about to begin," grandpa Porter said as he stopped before Camilla, his expression warm and benevolent.
"Come, sit with me upstairs."
His demeanor only further emphasized Camilla’s status as the esteemed wife of the Luther Family patriarch.
After all, in all of San Francisco, only a handful of family elders were privileged enough to share the upper seating with grandpa Porter.
"No need, grandpa Porter," Camilla declined with a polite smile.
"As a junior, I should remain down here."
This way, she’d have the perfect vantage point to enjoy the show.
"Hahaha, very well then," grandpa Porter chuckled, having only extended the invitation out of courtesy.
He certainly wasn’t about to insist.
"Young folks sure love a lively scene. I’ll head upstairs first then."
On the stage, Jonathan and his companions took turns delivering their blessings before yielding the spotlight to the true stars of the evening—
Standing side by side at the podium, the couple delivered their opening remarks with such seamless harmony that they appeared in the picture-perfect pair.
Of course, the whispers among the guests told a different story.
"Sandra finally got her wish—she’s Mrs. Luther now."
"Mrs. Luther? More like the consolation prize. What she really wanted was to be the Madam of the Luther Family."
"But that Camilla—she’s Sandra’s worst nightmare.
The moment she showed up, she snatched the title of the madam right from under her nose and has been outshining her ever since.
Remember what happened at Grandpa Luther’s banquet last time?"
"No sooner had Jonathan settled into his seat with Margaret than a towering waiter approached, bending down to murmur something in his ear.
His brow furrowed deeply as he gave a terse nod and rose to leave.
"Where are you going?"
Margaret grabbed his sleeve, her hushed voice dripping with resentment.
"That old witch lured you away, didn’t she?
Can’t even stay for your own son’s engagement party?"
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
Jonathan glanced around, ensuring no one had overheard before replying sharply.
"It’s a company business.
With that, he brushed her hand aside and strode out.
Margaret’s hand struck the chair with a sharp, searing pain, but she barely noticed.
Her eyes, fixed on Jonathan’s retreating figure, turned icy with quiet fury.
Yet when a guest approached with a congratulatory toast, her face melted back into a practiced smile.
"The first gift has been delivered."
Watching Jonathan leave, Camilla’s smiling gaze shifted to the stage, where Tyler and Sandra had just announced the start of the banquet before making their exit.
"Now," she murmured, her crimson lips curling as she pressed the tiny remote concealed in her palm.
"Time for the second."
The massive LED screen overhead flickered—then the image abruptly changed.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. "What’s going on?"
Tyler and Sandra halted their steps, turning their heads in the direction of the crowd’s gaze.
When Tyler saw the content playing on the screen, his pupils contracted violently, his face instantly darkening to an extreme degree.
Beside him, Sandra looked as if struck by lightning—her face drained of all colors as she collapsed to the floor.
Meanwhile, in Mileage.
The assistant checked his watch.
"It’s been two or three hours already.
Why hasn’t there been any movement from him?"
Yoland remained silent, though his eyes narrowed slightly.
Could it be that Tyler was seriously injured, just as that person had claimed?