His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 261

Unlike one-on-one or small private sessions, Archer Vanderbilt had signed her up for a large class of ten.

From his perspective, horseback riding or golf would have been better, but she had only recently been discharged from the hospital after the car accident. High-intensity sports were out of the question, so after much deliberation, he settled on a fragrance appreciation class.

It was his subtle way of encouraging her to make new friends.

As soon as Virginia Caldwell took her seat at the table, several heavily jeweled women leaned in.

"You look unfamiliar. I haven't seen you around our circles before," said Mrs. Langley. She carried a rare Himalayan crocodile leather bag, and the stunning emerald necklace around her neck caught everyone's eye.

"Hello, I'm Virginia." She offered a polite, distant smile before lowering her gaze back to the fragrance tools in front of her.

"Virginia? There are the Caldwells in the capital... What line of work are you in, Ms. Caldwell?" asked Mrs. Thorne, eyeing her up and down with a thinly veiled critical gaze.

"I'm a psychologist," Virginia replied smoothly.

At those words, the surrounding socialites exchanged meaningful glances, and a brief, heavy silence fell over the group.

The smile faded from Mrs. Langley's face, replaced by a noticeable hint of condescension.

"A psychologist. The bar for these high-end hobby classes is getting lower and lower. Just about anyone can get in nowadays..."

A woman in a tweed Chanel suit immediately chimed in. "Tell me about it. What could we possibly have in common with people in the service industry?"

"Mrs. Langley, I heard your husband just won a six-carat pink diamond for you at auction last week. Show it off, let us admire it."

Smug, Mrs. Langley raised her hand, flaunting the massive rock on her ring finger. "Just a little trinket he bought for fun. Unlike some people, who will never get to see the real deal in their entire lives."

No wonder she had felt Virginia looked somewhat shabby. She had initially thought she was overthinking it—after all, some bespoke haute couture lacked visible logos. But now it was obvious: this woman was just a penniless nobody who had somehow sneaked in.

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