NovelBookChapter 309
One of the security guards spoke up coldly. "Ma'am, may | see your invitation, please?"
This was the annual charity auction-a high-profile event, to say the least. Only the wealthy and powerful ever
received invitations, and the items up for bidding were always rare and priceless. If someone with ill intentions
managed to slip in, the consequences could be disastrous: a priceless treasure gone, or worse, a VIP hurt.
Nobody wanted that kind of trouble, so every suspicious guest had to be treated with utmost seriousness.
Jasper jabbed a finger at Stella. "Go ahead and take her for questioning! If she doesn't cooperate, feel free to get
a little rough!"
Onlookers exchanged bewildered glances.
What's going on here?
Sdiscarded wife? A gold-digger, maybe?
Wait-wasn't this woman Neville's wife?
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Stella, surrounded by security and under the scrutiny of dozens of curious eyes, remained perfectly calm. Not a
flicker of anxiety crossed her face. She reached into her clutch and pulled out an invitation, her fingers steady as
ever.
"Here's my invitation," she said, handing it over.
Jasper froze for a second, then immediately barked, "It's a fake! That invitation is forged!"
One of the guards took Stella's invitation and ran it under the scanner. A clear beep sounded. Verified.
The guard's expression softened.
Jasper's breath caught in his throat. "No, that's impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
Suddenly, he seemed to think of something else and jabbed his finger at Stella again, shouting, "She must have
stolen someone else's invitation!"
This time, before Stella could respond, a new voice cut through the tension-a man's, low and almost lazy.
"Mr. Wilkinson, isn't this a bit much?"
Jasper spun around and found himself face to face with Neville, who was watching him with a faint, sardonic
smile.
"A friend of mine isn't welchere?" Neville asked, his voice carrying just enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"Are you really accusing her of stealing an invitation? Who exactly are you insulting?"
The crowd exchanged knowing looks.
A friend? So she wasn't Neville's wife after all. If Neville was willing to bring a woman to an event like this, he
was making a statement. The message was clear: this woman was under his protection.
Stella put her invitation away, expression cool. "It makes sense to be careful at an event like this," she said
evenly. "But you shouldn't just take anyone's word for it. Even someone with an invitation could be up to no
good."
The guards bowed their heads. "You're right, ma'am."
They realized they'd been unnecessarily rude to her. If she'd chosen to make a scene, they wouldn't have had
much ground to stand on. Her willingness to let it go was a kindness.
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A flush crept up their cheeks. They'd worked here for years, and no one had ever caused trouble at the auction
before. They weren't fools-they could see now that Jasper had used them.
Now it was the guards’ turn to look at Jasper, their eyes cold and hard.
Jasper opened his mouth, about to protest, but Rachel quickly nudged him. She murmured, “Jasper, let it go—
everyone's watching.”
Haynes, equally frosty, added, "Jasper, enough."
A night like this, with all the city's elite-and even sinternational families— present, was no place for a messy
argument. Right or wrong, picking a fight with Stella now was reckless.
Stella didn't linger. She turned to Neville, a faint smile on her lips. "Mr. Connolly, shall we?"
Neville shot Haynes a look, then offered Stella his arm. She accepted, slipping her hand into the crook of his
elbow, and together they walked into the grand hall.
Haynes watched them go, his face darkening. He started to step forward, only for Rachel to grab his arm and
hold him back.
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