Another voice cut in, sharper this time, “And inside the palace, no less! It’s clear Countess Annie has no respect for the royal family—none at all.”

“How can someone who spits on the royal family’s dignity just walk away unscathed?”

The comments buzzed around Ryanna, each one sharper than the last. Her expression darkened, her jaw tightening as she turned to Annie. “Annie,” she said, her voice icy, “I expect an explanation. Now.”

Annie, still struggling to pull her clothes together, froze, her hands clutching the fabric of her half-fastened dress. She turned to Ryanna, her face ghostly pale. “Ryanna,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “can’t you see? I’ve been set up!”

Annie wanted to explain further, but Lois stepped in, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Countess Annie,” she said, her tone a mix of disappointment and urgency, “you can’t keep doing this. How do you expect the princess to handle such a scandal?”

Lois’s face was a canvas of emotions—her brows furrowed with worry, her lips pressed into a regretful line, and her eyes glistening with what looked like genuine sadness.

Annie had long suspected Lois was behind the drugged drink, and now, hearing Lois’s feigned concern, her anger erupted. She tugged her clothes into place, her movements sharp and furious. Before anyone could react, she swung her hand and struck Lois across the face—hard. The sound echoed through the room, leaving everyone frozen in shock. No one had seen this coming—Annie, usually composed, had snapped. But Annie was beyond caring. Her chest heaved with fury as she jabbed a trembling finger at Lois. “You bitch!” she screamed, her voice raw and unsteady. “What the hell did you put in my drink?!”

If it weren’t for this wretched woman, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be standing here, humiliated and exposed.

Lois pressed a hand to her stinging cheek, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Countess Annie,” she began, her voice quivering, “how could you accuse me of something so horrible? I would never drug you!” As the words spilled out, tears cascaded down her cheeks, scattering like shattered pearls.

The onlookers, taking in Lois’s tear-streaked face and trembling hands, turned their attention to Annie. Their gazes shifted, displeasure flickering in their eyes. Annie’s outburst seemed overly aggressive, even domineering. It was clear she was the one who had lost control, yet here she was, pointing fingers at someone else.

Feel inspired by g?lnσν?s?

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. “Good heavens,” someone whispered, “I’d heard Countess Annie was spoiled, but this… this is beyond belief.”

Another voice chimed in, sharp and disapproving, “She messed up and then had the nerve to blame others? Unbelievable.”

“Can someone like that even deserve to be a countess?”

Their voices carried, sharp and unapologetic, and Annie caught every word. Her face darkened, her jaw tightening as fury burned in her chest. This bitch! She seethed inwardly, her hands clenching into fists. Annie’s glare burned into Lois, her eyes filled with a hatred so intense it seemed she might lunge at Lois any second.

For years, she had maneuvered through these social circles with ease, never once finding herself backed into a corner like this. She had underestimated Lois—this sly, wretched woman who had outplayed her.

But there was no turning back now. If she let panic take over, if she cowered, her reputation would be ruined forever. If she didn’t act now, she’d lose her place in this circle for good. There was no other choice—she had to fight back. Otherwise, it was over.

.

.

.