Chapter 92:
Then, with a graceful posture and a charming smile, Liliana announced to the room, “Brixton is almost here. I’ll fetch him at the entrance.
Folks, please enjoy yourselves and feel free to order your favorite drinks.”
Her declaration was met with jubilant cheers, and Liliana strutted out with her head held high.
Etta, Liliana’s ever-loyal sidekick, leaned in close to Harlee.
“Brixton, Liliana’s boyfriend, is one of the wealthiest men in all of Baythorn.
Any little trouble she encounters drives him into a frenzy.” The warning was clear but subtly veiled.
Harlee’s downfall seemed inevitable.
She took a casual sip of her juice before responding with a hint of sarcasm, “Really? Seems like a lot of fuss over nothing.”
“You!” Etta’s eyes narrowed, displeasure clear on her face.
“You’re too bold, Harlee.
Do you even realize the clout Brixton holds here?”
Brixton was a top-tier name in Baythorn, second only to Rhys.
Etta snorted. Who was Harlee to dismiss Brixton so lightly? Still, Etta held back, eager to watch Harlee’s inevitable downfall. It would be best if Harlee suffered a miserable end under Brixton’s wrath, which would undoubtedly simplify her claim of being the one every Sanderson adored.
With a casual glance upwards and then a swift drop of her gaze, Harlee silently conveyed her indifference.
Brixton? Ah, so this was Liliana’s play.
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Mulling over the implications, Harlee quickly texted her assistant with Brixton’s name, instructing, “Dig up everything on him.”
Earlier that day, when Liliana had extended the invitation, Harlee had initially dismissed the idea of attending.
However, Liliana’s schemes piqued her interest, compelling Harlee to uncover what mischief Liliana was brewing. It became clear that Liliana was attempting to leverage a man’s influence to overpower her.
Harlee smirked.
How utterly useless Liliana was! Resorting to men for her vendetta seemed like an act of desperation.
At that same time, Liliana, who was supposed to greet Brixton at the entrance, had instead slipped away to an opulent suite upstairs reserved for the black-card elite. There, a man lounged with his shirt collar undone, an arm around a woman, leisurely enjoying a cocktail while watching the screen that displayed the events unfolding below.
“Mr. Torres, see that woman? She slapped me twice last night. You have to defend my honor,” Liliana pleaded, nestling closer, her voice dripping with manipulation, igniting a fire within him.
Upon receiving Etta’s urgent text the previous night, Liliana had rushed to Brixton’s lavish villa, tears streaming down her cheeks as she poured out her heart about Harlee’s wrongdoings. This immediately aroused Brixton’s sympathy, and he vowed to make things right.
Leaning back, Brixton checked the time on his phone, a sly grin curling his lips.
“We have all the time in the world. Let’s savor the spectacle a bit longer, shall we?”
As the younger son of the influential Torres family, Brixton was no stranger to luxury.
His family dominated the real estate sector, amassing vast wealth. While his elder brother, Rogelio Torres, helmed the family business, Brixton had chosen a life of ease and pleasure among his elite circle of friends.
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