Belinda Swan wiped her tears, her expression resolute.
"I have never harbored any hidden agenda; I am upright and open. Everything I do is for your own good. Do you really think you and Nia Mitchell have a future?"
In this world, only she could be a match for Maxwell Peary. Who did Nia Mitchell think she was, anyway?
"Oh?" Maxwell responded faintly, his composure a stark contrast to her agitation.
"Young Master Peary, Nia Mitchell is just an ordinary person; you’re only montarily intrigued. We can get engaged first. As for marriage, we can wait until you’re ready. How about that?"
Her face was filled with hope, but to others, she looked as deranged as a lunatic.
Maxwell Peary shook his head.
"Belinda Swan, that surgically altered face of yours gives nightmares."
Maxwell dropped the bomb without offering any other explanation, revealing such a huge secret.
The air crackled with disbelief. "What? Belinda Swan had plastic surgery?"
Gasps followed. My God, wasn’t she always claiming to be all-natural? So *that* was the truth...
Plastic surgery was sothing everyone in their circle publicly despised, even if many had secretly undergone it. Now, all eyes were on Belinda Swan, a mixture of disdain and avid curiosity as they tried to pinpoint what work she’d had done.
"Young Master Peary, don’t talk nonsense." Belinda Swan, flustered as Maxwell Peary stood up, was helped to her feet by a nearby servant.
"Hmm?" Maxwell shot her a fierce glare. In this entire world, the only person who dared to accuse him of talking nonsense... was Belinda Swan.
"I’ve never had plastic surgery. Young Master Peary, if you’re just looking for an excuse to shirk your responsibility towards , you really don’t have to resort to this."
Tears stread down Belinda Swan’s face again. She stood there, looking as if a re gust of wind could blow her over.
"I know you’ve fallen in love with soone else. I can accept that. Just please, don’t hurt , can you?"
Her current deanor was utterly revolting.
Maxwell Peary frowned, turned, and looked at Belinda Swan.
"Soone get over here!" he roared, his voice authoritative and filled with imnse pressure.
Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, Owen Lewis strolled over, a smirk playing on his lips.
Did he really need to make such a dramatic entrance?
Though a part of him wanted to grumble, Owen Lewis proceeded with his task.
The venue had multidia capabilities. He pulled a disc from his pocket, and then...
The large screen lit up, displaying a barrage of obscene photos of Belinda Swan. There were also scenes from various bars and other disreputable venues, teeming with n and won in suggestive and intimate entanglents.
A wave of shocked exclamations erupted from the onlookers:
"HUH?!"
"OH MY GOD!"
"AHH!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
Everyone was stunned.
The huge screen displayed every lurid detail with stark clarity, leaving no expression in the room unreadable. And amidst the scandalous images, Belinda Swan was undeniably the most conspicuous figure.
Long, wavy hair with garish red highlights, a scandalously low-cut top, and a brazen, beaming smile. In those pictures, she looked exactly like one of those cheap, disreputable girls one might see loitering on street corners.
Who could have imagined that the elegantly dressed woman, admired by so many gentlen only monts before, was actually *this* kind of person?
The unspoken judgnt hung heavy in the air: Decadent! Utterly unprincipled! If these photos were to leak, Belinda Swan wouldn’t just lose face; her life, as she knew it, would be utterly ruined.
"You... you..." Belinda Swan looked utterly mortified, her eyes wide with terror. Tears stread down her face without warning.
These tears, for once, were not feigned.
She dared not et anyone’s gaze, dared not listen to their hushed discussions; the world around her dissolved into a dull, overwhelming buzz.
It all hit her at once, a devastating blow that caught her completely off guard.
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