She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 80

Sylvie had been raised on gemstones and provenance. She knew Loyce was almost certainly right. The necklace around her throat—the Langley “heirloom” locked away for generations—was a fake. And because her family trusted the prestige of international auction houses, they’d never questioned it.

Tonight was the first time she’d worn it in public… and it had turned into a spectacle. But at least it could still be contained.

Sylvie shook her head, swallowing her temper. “No need. Ms. Lonsdale’s words were… timely. I’ll excuse myself.”

Loyce gave a slight nod. As Sylvie turned, she added gently, “Even as a replica, the craftsmanship is excellent. It may not be three hundred years old, but it’s still worth keeping.”

Sylvie paused, then looked back with a softened expression. “Thank you.”

Once she left, their table fell into a strained silence. Yuna, who’d shouted the loudest, kept her head down now, humiliated beyond words.

Yorick raised his glass to Loyce. “I didn’t expect you to be this knowledgeable. You spoke like an expert. Ms. Lonsdale, you truly live up to your name. I’ll drink to you.”

Loyce clinked his glass easily. “I know a little. Nothing more.”

Sybil, desperate to recover, forced a smile. “Loyce… when did your brothers give you that set? I had no idea. I almost made a fool of myself.”

Everyone had seen how she’d been pushing Loyce to apologize. Now that the jewelry was real, Sybil was the one who looked ignorant.

“No one gave it to me,” Loyce said softly. “Sybil, girls shouldn’t always be reaching out for gifts. We can buy things ourselves, with our own money.”

Sybil’s smile froze. Her fingers dug into her palm until the joints turned white. Loyce had just exposed her as someone who clung to the Lonsdale name and lived off handouts, while Loyce stood there as the real heiress with real power.

Around the table, guests exchanged knowing looks. Someone even let out a quiet laugh.

“So Ms. Seabrook usually just… waits for people to buy her things?”

“No wonder she was so eager to step on Ms. Lonsdale. Jealousy, maybe.”

Sybil’s ears burned. She wanted to vanish, but she had to keep the mask on. Her voice shook. “L-Loyce, you’re joking. I was only worried about you…”

“Worried about me?” Loyce swirled her champagne, eyes faintly amused. “Then next time, ask before you decide things for me.”

She paused, her tone still gentle, each word a blade. “Otherwise you’ll just… embarrass yourself again.”

The last few words slapped Sybil harder than any open hand. She shot to her feet, chair scraping across the floor with a harsh screech.

But this room was full of high-profile guests. Who here would someone be trying to kill?

Loyce’s laziness vanished. Her eyes sharpened as she scanned the room, then lifted toward the second-floor private boxes. Her gaze locked onto one—Lucian.

While everyone else focused on the auction, Loyce rose and slipped away.

Yorick called after her, “Ms. Lonsdale, the Langley collection is about to come up. You’re not staying to watch?”

“Restroom,” Loyce replied.

She moved calmly toward the spiral staircase. The moment she disappeared from the crowd’s view, she gathered her skirt and hurried, heels striking marble in quick, clipped bursts.

The second-floor corridor was unnaturally quiet. Pressed to the wall, she advanced, then heard the faintest metallic click. Her eyes narrowed. She lunged for the nearest door and shoved it open.

Lucian sat on the sofa inside, lazily rotating a coffee cup in his hand. When she stormed in, he lifted an eyebrow. “Finished performing your little comedy?”

Loyce slammed the door and locked it. She crossed the room fast, fisted his tie, and pulled him close. “There’s an assassin,” she said, voice low and hard.