Chapter 223

The day of the charity jewelry auction at The Regal Palace arrived in a flash.

Despite minimal prior publicity from The Regal Palace and Vogue Paris, the charity connection ensured extensive media coverage from New York's elite press.

Vogue Paris stood as a global fashion authority. Its coveted cover had sparked fierce competition among celebrities, showcasing its immense influence. Today's event brimmed with stars. Security teams remained on high alert to control the crowds. Celebrities waved briefly to fans before hurrying inside to prevent potential chaos.

The atmosphere electrified when a sleek stretched Lincoln pulled up.

Bodyguards opened the door, revealing Isabella and Victoria Sinclair in dazzling evening gowns.

Unlike other socialites who preferred discreet entrances, these two craved the spotlight as if they'd wither without constant camera flashes.

"Isn't that Arabella's aunt?" someone shouted, the words slicing through the crowd to Isabella's ears. Her face darkened instantly.

After years shedding labels like "washed-up actress" and "homewrecker," being reduced to "Arabella's aunt" felt like fresh humiliation. The biological truth didn't soften the insult.

As murmurs spread, Isabella's complexion shifted from crimson to ashen. Without Victoria's support, she might have collapsed.

Isabella had hoped time erased the scandal. But some stains became permanent. Her carefully constructed dignity lay shattered by that wretched Arabella.

Amidst the whispers, the Sinclair women entered the hotel, faces burning.

"Mother, perhaps avoid public events," Victoria muttered. "Your disgrace reflects on me. It's unbearable."

"Ungrateful child!" Isabella hissed, digging nails into her daughter's arm. "I endured scorn carrying you into the Vanderbilt family. Now you're ashamed of me?"

Victoria clutched her bruised arm, desperate to escape her mother's venom.

The evening unfolded in two acts: a cocktail reception followed by the auction. The glittering gathering resembled an entertainment industry reunion.

Seraphina, as hotel manager and event organizer, faced media scrutiny with poised grace.

"President Lockwood," a reporter pressed, "After Ada switched her wedding to Vanderbilt Hotel, now hosting Vogue Paris' charity event - are you challenging the Vanderbilts?"

Seraphina's smile remained unshaken. "Naturally people draw comparisons, given our historic rivalry. But Vogue Paris chose us independently. These are coincidences."

"Why did Ada cancel her contract with The Regal Palace? Were there issues?"

"That involves confidential contracts I can't discuss," Seraphina deflected.

"Was it because her venue details leaked?" the reporter persisted.

Seraphina's gaze chilled. Someone had planted this interrogator.

Nearby, Vanessa sipped champagne, smirking at Seraphina's discomfort. The troublesome reporter was her doing.

If she couldn't topple Seraphina, at least she'd rattle her.

Just then, the Sinclair women approached.

Victoria, clutching her trump card, faced Seraphina with newfound confidence.

"You're correct," Seraphina suddenly confirmed, her smile vanishing. "That was indeed the reason."

Gasps erupted.

Vanessa frowned. She hadn't anticipated such blunt honesty.

What game was Seraphina playing?

"Ladies and gentlemen," Isabella interjected, "Don't trouble Ms. Lockwood further. She's already overwhelmed with breach issues."

Victoria lifted her chin smugly. "But don't despair, Ms. Lockwood. Learn from this failure. We Vanderbilts will certainly handle client confidentiality better."