Scarlett turned her head and gave Veronica a lazy once-over.
It was obvious the woman had tried desperately to stand out tonight.
But her neon-yellow dress was trying way too hard; it was visually jarring, almost blinding.
Scarlett pressed her lips together. "Do you have any idea what you look like?"
Veronica paused, frowning defensively. "What do you mean? What are you trying to say?"
Scarlett gave a soft, amused scoff. "You look like a giant egg yolk in a bowl of tomato soup. In a room completely themed in red, you are painfully yellow."
Without waiting for a response, Scarlett turned on her heel and walked gracefully toward the VIP table at the center of the room.
*A giant egg yolk in a bowl of tomato soup?!*
Veronica froze, snapping her gaze down to her bright yellow gown, then wildly scanning the surrounding red velvet drapes and crimson floral arrangements.
In a split second, her face turned ashen. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, her manicured nails digging painfully into her palms.
Meanwhile, Scarlett casually took the seat of honor at the center table.
The table was filled with the company's major shareholders, senior executives, and the chairman himself, Franklin Flynn.
Corinne and her daughters didn't have the status to sit at this table; they were relegated to the adjacent one.
As soon as Scarlett sat down, she felt the weight of everyone's stares.
To her utter surprise, Franklin, the patriarch who had rarely ever spoken to her, leaned over to strike up a conversation.
"How is my little granddaughter doing these days? Is she behaving?"
Scarlett could barely believe her ears.
Franklin Flynn asking about her daughter? This was a first.
She gave him a cool, indifferent glance. "She's fine."

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