Begging for a Second Chance (Sienna Sloan and Jarred Sterling) novel Chapter 446

Jarred positioned himself right between the two women. His tall, imposing frame radiated an overwhelming dominance, the dark suit making his features look as frigid as a winter night.

From start to finish, he didn't spare Sienna a single glance.

His gaze landed solely on the feigning Celeste, his tone hard and laced with an unquestionable urge to protect. "Enough."

With that single word, the music abruptly stopped, and the lively chatter died instantly.

Every eye in the room practically snapped toward the three of them. You could hear a pin drop.

Celeste's shoulders trembled slightly as she timidly gripped the cuff of Jarred's suit, her eyes rimmed with red.

She looked like she was suffering from severe shell shock. But beneath her lowered lashes, a venomous smile bloomed.

She had bet right.

No matter how sharp Sienna was, no matter how easily her disguise fell apart under scrutiny...

As long as Jarred was willing to protect her, willing to block every path to justice for her, Sienna would always be the loser.

Any other woman, publicly humiliated and sidelined by her husband for an outsider, would likely break down in tears, explode into a screaming match, and expose all her vulnerabilities to the crowd.

But not Sienna.

She rapidly forced her blazing fury down, her gaze entirely bypassing the man standing in her way.

Her eyes locked onto Celeste like a razor-sharp blade, a faint, chilling smile spreading across her lips.

The smile was shallow, dripping with a mockery that saw right through the charade.

It sent a sudden chill down Celeste's spine, instantly breaking her facade of panic.

"Ms. Vaughan, is it? That Embroidered Silk Gown looks stunning on you."

Sienna said, her pace unhurried, her voice clear and steady. "Unfortunately, your concealer technique is trash. Your arms are covered in needle marks."

Celeste's pupils violently contracted, her body instinctively going rigid.

She subconsciously tried to cover her exposed left arm, a panicked, sloppy movement full of holes.

That single, frantic micro-action acted like a magnet, instantly drawing every eye in the room straight to her left arm.

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