Whitney raised an eyebrow and looked at Monica with amusement as if she were watching a court jester perform.
Standing beside her, L. towered with an impeccable posture, blatantly ignoring Monica as if she were beneath
his notice.
‘Let’s get going,” he said, turning with an air of distinction.
Whitney followed him, delicate and soft, which only made him seem more imposing.
Simon watched from behind, his eyes simmering with an intense, fiery anger,
“Whitney!” He barked, halting her in her tracks.
Monica’s face soured instantly.
Whitney paused, and L. glanced at her. “I need to take a call. The driver will pick you up. Can you handle that?”
She nodded with a faint smile.
With a cool glance back, Whitney watched Simon approach, eyeing L as he walked away to take his call. “Who the hell is that guy?” Simon demanded.
“None of your damn business.”
“How can you associate with riffraff? Whitney, have you sunk so low?”
“At least I’m not scavenging for coins in the gutter.”
Her words stung Monica and Simon, and onlookers struggled to suppress their laughter.
Monica’s face turned icy while Simon’s expression grew colder. He grabbed Whitney’s hand and sneered, “Riffraff without a car, right? He’s probably riding a motorcycle. I’ll take you home!”
The sound of his car keys jingled, and the headlights of a Lamborghini flashed.
Monica feigned concern as she approached. “Oh dear sister, you must have walked here, right? You should be careful, especially being pregnant, even if the father’s identity is a mystery. Let Simon and me take you home. What if something happens to you on that motorcycle?”
The elite ladies nearby cast disdainful glances at Whitney. As beautiful as she was, it baffled them why she would be with a thug.
Whitney remained silent.
the unmistakable roar of an ultra–luxury car approached, and when the onlookers recognized it, they collectively
one–of–a–kind, limited edition Bugatti Veyron–not just the car, but the consecutive numbers on the license plate left
license plate number symbolized power, something even
Whose car was this?
stepped out, respectfully calling,
as Ms. Valentine, not as the lady of the house, which suggested L’s directive. With a knowing smile, Whitney swept
cloud of exhaust for the Valentine family to
were abuzz. “Who has Whitney gotten involved with? That license plate–only the Lippert family in Banyan City
1/3
15:00
Chapter 27
with the Lippert family!” Yvonne interjected with scorn. “She’s ruined. She’s just latched
but feigning sorrow,
How could Whitney know
to be his–all of her beauty, excellence, and capabilities
separate cars, he ahead and she following
contacted her, “Did I
had instructed Tiana to drug Monica and take her
dog
and everyone witnessed her supposed madness, making her institutionalization a
high society, you kicked her out again. And that resort contract won’t do her any
by her fake husband and missing her
there, stood elegantly, smoking a cigarette–a mature man with a
for her to wait as he
smoke cleared, he approached her with the grace of
from the car. She knelt to greet them, her face softening. “They’re getting old,” she said. “My mother gave them to me. They’ve been with me through everything. I should’ve picked them up days ago. Thank you
again?” L
standing up in the evening breeze like
glanced at her lips, and
Without you, I wouldn’t have my dogs!”
“Hmph.”
shouldn’t use that license plate. The cops might not like it,
mouth twitched
sorry for the plate
they headed towards
formal attire, suggesting he had been at an important event. “Did you come back from a trip, or
pause and deep
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