Chapter 126: Gala (3)
"Oh my God, Queen... Your dress..." Chasey panicked, eyes wide as she stared at the cream and chocolate smeared across Lethia’s gown.
Lethia’s blood surged as she caught the smug smile on the woman who’d dropped the cake. It was fucking obvious she did it on purpose, itching to start something.
Her ears burned with the heat of restrained fury, but Lethia kept her composure, snatching the tissue Adam offered and calmly wiping the mess off her dress.
"Thania! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?" Chasey yelled, but Lethia grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She didn’t want to create more of a scene.
"Oh, I’m sorry. My hand slipped," Thania said, voice soaked in sarcasm, not a hint of actual remorse. "But... the cake tonight tasted awful, and I just wanted to toss it in the bin. What should I do? Maybe it found its kind first, a dirty dust—she paused with a sly smile—on the floor." She threw Lethia a sharp glare, letting the insult land with a vicious little giggle.
Lethia exhaled slowly. Once. Twice. A third breath. Her hand twitched toward the drink on the tall table beside her, tempted to douse Thania’s smug face with it. But no. Not tonight. Not here.
People still remembered the stiletto incident. That wasn’t the image she wanted to paint again at this prestigious Gala.
Her gaze dropped to the black pin Thania and her minions wore—exactly like hers, except in black. Lethia let out a smirk.
Then Lethia turned to Thania with a lingering gaze, forcing the sweetest smile she could muster. Even Chasey and Adam froze, startled by how warmly she grinned, her eyes curving into perfect crescent moons.
"It’s fine, Thania. I know you didn’t mean to," she said gently. "But... It’s so clumsy, isn’t it? How could an Aide let herself be this careless? That’s not good. Our job requires sharpness and precision. Am I right?"
Still smiling, Lethia swept her eyes toward Thania’s two lackeys. The flick of her gaze alone made them squirm.