Chapter 34

ScarlettPOV

Camila hooked her arm through mine, guiding me toward the banquet hall.

"Relax, Scarlett. When it comes to acting, confidence matters more than reality."

At these words, my inner self trembled violently, as if an electric current had shot from my spine to the top of my head.

I involuntarily slowed my steps, casting a surprised glance at her profile.

These words—this nearly verbatim statement—were something that would always surface in my mind during significant occasions when I was very young.

It was as if someone had repeatedly told me this phrase, one of the most vivid imprints in the depths of my childhood memories.

How could Camila know these words? And they were exactly the same as the words in my deepest memories!

This couldn't be a coincidence.

A ripple of unease spread through my heart, mixed with confusion, vigilance, and a subtle, indescribable anticipation.

Who was she exactly? How much did she know about me?

What hidden connections lay behind this that I was unaware of?

As we walked toward the main hall of Blair Manor, countless questions churned in my mind, yet I also felt a strange sense of calm.

Despite having known Camila for barely ten minutes, I sensed an inexplicable familiarity and trust.

Perhaps it was because of those words, or perhaps because Camila had appeared at my most vulnerable and dangerous moment.

I desperately needed an ally, even if that ally was shrouded in mystery.

As we approached the entrance of the banquet hall, snippets of conversation drifted to my ears.

I immediately recognized Sandra's deliberately raised voice and Tom's low, controlled response.

Instinctively, I slowed my pace, gently squeezing Camila's arm to signal her to stop.

Her muscles tensed slightly beneath my hand, clearly understanding my intention.

We silently retreated to the shadows of the doorway, quietly observing their interaction, like two leopards waiting for the right moment.

"Tom, who are you waiting for?"

Sandra's voice carried an intentional innocence.

She was asking a question she already knew the answer to, and this hypocrisy made my stomach churn.

She wore an expensive lavender gown that sparkled under the lights, beautiful and dangerous, like a poisonous flower.

Tom gave a faint smile, his expression like a perfect mask.

"Miss Blair, you look beautiful tonight."

His voice was calm and distant, his eyes slightly wary, clearly politely avoiding her question.

Sandra curved her lips, her smile not reaching her eyes.

The lipstick on her lips glinted under the crystal chandelier, like a blood-stained blade.

"No matter how beautiful I am, I can't compare to the future mistress of the Gray family."

She said, her eyes greedily scanning the surroundings like a hunting dog searching for its target.

I instinctively retreated further into the shadows, my heartbeat nearly bursting through my chest.

I gripped Camila's hand, my knuckles turning white.

Cold sweat emerged in my palm, fear and anger coursing through my veins.

Sandra was hinting to Tom that I was too beautiful, and beautiful women would bring trouble.

Each of her words was like a small hammer, striking my vulnerable nerves.

I could feel the naked malice and schadenfreude from her body language—her slightly leaning posture, fingers casually playing with her necklace, her lowered voice filled with suggestive tones.

She believed she had caught me red-handed, and this excited her almost beyond containment.

"Tom, I know what to say and what not to say," she raised her chin, an inherent superiority that made me clench my fists.

"But perhaps you needn't wait for her. Richard's future wife might be right now..."

She deliberately paused, her eyes flashing with malicious light, studying Tom's reaction.

Each word Sandra spoke made my blood run colder.

I could feel Camila tense beside me, her breathing becoming light and cautious.

Tom's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes became as sharp as a knife.

Years of handling affairs for the Gray family had taught him to remain calm even in such situations, but I noticed his fingers slightly tightening at his side.

"Miss Blair, what exactly are you implying?"

Sandra moved closer, lowering her voice mysteriously, but we in the shadows could still barely catch her words.

"Richard has always been wary of Alexander. If I tell you that he and the future Gray mistress are right now—"

Her tone carried an almost pathological excitement, as if she was about to reveal some earth-shattering secret.

"Miss Blair, you've crossed the line."

Tom cut her off sharply, his tone unyielding.

My heart pounded violently in my chest, each beat seeming to strike my ribs.

I took a deep breath, feeling an unprecedented courage rising from deep within me.

This determination to face the crisis surprised even myself.

In the past, I would have chosen to retreat, to escape, but at this moment, I decided to confront this threat head-on.

Perhaps it was Alexander's cruel treatment that had awakened some inner strength, or maybe Camila's appearance had given me courage.

Or perhaps, I was simply tired of always being in a passive position.

I squeezed Camila's hand, signaling it was time to act.

She gave me an almost imperceptible nod, her eyes flickering with a resolute light.

That tacit understanding made me feel less alone.

We stepped out from the shadows into the brilliantly lit hall. The crystal chandelier's light instantly enveloped us, like a stage spotlight.

I felt as if all eyes were focused on me, but this time, I did not shrink back.

"What exactly was I doing in the garden corner that constitutes crossing the line?"

The words rang out clearly in the hall, carrying more power and confidence than my usual tone.

I straightened my back, like a lioness ready for battle.

Sandra suddenly turned, her movement so abrupt she almost lost her balance, her eyes instantly widening as if witnessing something impossible.

"You..." Her voice nearly choked, confusion and anger intertwining in her gaze.

I stared directly at Sandra's slightly parted eyes and pale face.

She clearly hadn't anticipated my appearing before her so quickly in such a perfect, composed manner, nor had she expected me to have heard her words.

I felt a remarkable power, as if wearing an invisible suit of armor.

This time, I was ready to strike back! No longer a helpless lamb to be slaughtered, but a fierce hunter who would protect herself at all costs!