Chapter 106
Isabelle froze, a knot of suspicion tightening in her chest.
Just moments ago, when she had left the private room, Olivia had been perfectly fine.
How could she suddenly claim an alcohol allergy now?
Her gaze, sharp with doubt, flickered toward Olivia.
Olivia met her look and offered a bright,
mischievous wink.
Her smile was dazzling and deliberate.
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It was a stark provocativo contrast to the
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meek, almost servile demeanor she had displayed earlier. There was no trace of that earlier humility.
Damn it.
This woman just played her.
The timing was too perfect to be a
coincidence.
It seemed she had finally met her match.
It was a clash of master manipulators, a peak showdown between two experts of
calculated charm.
She had severely underestimated this so–called “country bumpkin,” Olivia.
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stomach, hot fury rising to crimson her
cheeks.
Before she could unleash a torrent of
accusations, Damian’s impatient voice cut through her thoughts, his brow furrowed in displeasure.
“Move aside, Isabelle!”
His tone was cold, a command that left no
room for argument.
Isabelle stared, hurt and incredulous.
When had he ever spoken to her with such blatant impatience?
Now, for Olivia’s sake he was dismissing her, blaming her, looking straight through
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The pain was sudden and visceral, a feeling as if her heart had been torn out.
She staggered slightly bending at the waist to steady herself against the dizzying ache.
Clenching his sleeve, she forced her voice
into a pleading tone.
“Damian, she’s lying to you. She isn’t allergic to alcohol. Can’t you see? You’re being deceived.”
“Isabelle.” Damian’s voice dropped, his eyes turning to ice. “I know you’ve always been willful, finding amusement in
putting others down.
“But Olivia is not your plaything. If you 2:24
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have any shred of decency left, you will step aside now. If we delay her treatment because of this, are you prepared to bear that responsibility?”
With that, he brusquely shook off her grip and adjusted his hold on Olivia, ready to stride away.
A desperate burst of adrenaline propelled
Isabelle forward.
She planted herself firmly in his path, arms outstretched to block him.
“Damian, you don’t believe me? She was smiling at me just now! Someone with a real allergic reaction wouldn’t look like that! She-”
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evaporating.
“Stop throwing a tantrum! Isabelle, this is a matter of life and death. Stop making a
scene!”
Stop throwing a tantrum.
It was the same dismissal he had so often directed at Sophia in the past.
Now, the boomerang had circled back, striking her with full, devastating force.
Each word was a precise, deadly hit.
She had recently learned from Lucas that Olivia came from an ordinary, working–class family.
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Damian, she had managed to completely shift his attitude.!!!
An average person couldn’t achieve that.
Olivia’s scheming nature was clearly far removed from her harmless exterior.
A chilling thought crossed Isabelle’s mind: Could she be some vengeful ghost of Sophia, sent back to torment her?
Outwardly fragile and helpless, Olivia seemed to anticipate Isabelle’s every
move.
She had crafted countermeasures before she could even speak.
These were Isabelle’s own signature 12:2
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The tears? The tantrums? Playing the victim? The feigned helplessness?
No matter how flimsy or contradictory her excuses had been in the past, Damian had always believed her, showering her with unique, indulgent affection.
Now the roles were reversed. Isabelle found herself cast in Sophia’s former part.
At this moment, she felt a piercing, profound empathy for the pain Sophia must have endured and the bone–deep
coldness she suffered from Damian.
The revelation was bitter and clear: to
Damian, she had never been the one and only, nor even particularly special.
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