Nia Mitchell’s mouth twitched slightly. After she had uttered just a few words, Phoebe Harris was gazing at her intently, like a fly that had spotted a rotten egg.
"Maxwell Peary and I are already married. This is a settled fact. As for the fiancée you ntioned, I do not recall Maxwell ever acknowledging her," Nia said.
Maxwell had stated before that the idea of a fiancée was rely wishful thinking on their part.
There was never even an engagent. So where would a fiancée co from?
Phoebe furrowed her brows; she hadn’t expected Maxwell to have told Nia everything.
"Hmph, you’re only with Maxwell for the money. How much do you want?" she arrogantly pulled out a check and threw it towards Nia.
Due to gravity, the check whirled a few tis in the air before slowly drifting to the floor, landing before it could reach Nia.
"Forget it. Write whatever amount you want on the check."
Phoebe smirked disdainfully at Nia, eager to see her stoop down to pick up the check.
However, not only did Nia not comply, but she also said sothing that made Phoebe’s teeth itch with irritation.
"Everything here will eventually belong to Maxwell. What I could get by staying with him in the future far exceeds what this check could provide. Do you think I’m foolish?"
Do you think I’m foolish?
Phoebe shivered with anger. The powder on her face began to flake off, her expression twisting into a mask of rage.
"You shaless little wench! Today I’ll show you what you can never have!"
Phoebe, choking with rage, bellowed at the butler who stood to the side, flailing her arms and pointing her fingers.
"Didn’t you see this little wench making a scene here? Call the security guards now! I want to see just how tough this little wench thinks she is."
Phoebe’s voice reverberated throughout the living room.
"You dare to publicly admit you’re deliberately getting close to Maxwell! You should be glad he’s not here right now. Otherwise, with his thods, you’d be lucky to survive," Phoebe seethed.
Phoebe gritted her teeth in fury, determined to teach this brash little girl a lesson today.
Nia looked at Phoebe’s hypocritical expression and laughed coldly.
She caught sight of a middle-aged man standing on the second floor. He had streaks of white hair, and his neatly tailored suit gave him a particularly stern look.
However, what was truly striking was not his outfit, but his eyes.
His eyes were deep and distant, emanating a piercing intensity from beneath thick, dark, sword-like brows. Just one glance was enough to take your breath away.
There was no doubt about his identity.
Samuel Peary!
"I’m here now. You can say whatever you want. There’s no need to let this woman prattle on with ."
Nia calmly t Samuel Peary’s gaze. Even from a distance, she could feel the intense aura emanating from him.
It was similar to Maxwell’s, yet different.
He had been standing there, watching the scene unfold the whole ti. Evidently, he deliberately allowed Phoebe to verbally attack .
Realizing this, Nia despised Samuel even more.
Samuel’s lips suddenly curved, and then he burst into hearty laughter.
"You do have guts. Phoebe, is this how you treat guests?"
Despite his words, there was no hint of rebuke in his voice.
True to form, he quickly changed his tone.
"Even though the younger generation may have their faults, you need to guide her properly. Don’t give people cause to say you’re targeting her," said Samuel.
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