Chapter 457

Lydia Laurent awkwardly rubbed her hands together. "I should go greet my international friends."

She lifted her gown and hurried away.

Only Evelyn Carter, Vivian Dempsey, and the abandoned Annabelle Taylor remained.

Annabelle's face flushed red, then paled, finally turning livid. Her carefully maintained elegant facade shattered completely. She glared at Evelyn with venom. "How dare you show your face here? Lydia didn't invite you! It's too late for regrets now—I'm about to become the next Miss Laurent!"

Evelyn didn't even bother to look up.

"Stop pretending to be noble!" Annabelle trembled with rage. "You—"

"Shut up!" Vivian stormed forward in her ten-centimeter heels. "I've been itching to vent my anger. Say one more word, and I'll rearrange that plastic face of yours."

Annabelle stumbled back two steps but kept glaring at Evelyn.

Vivian stepped between them. "What are you staring at? Alexander Hamilton humiliated you—go take it up with him if you've got the guts!"

"Psycho!" Annabelle spat before fleeing in disgrace.

Vivian rolled her eyes at her retreating figure. "Disgusting!"

The ballroom lights suddenly shifted, bathing everything in dreamy purple hues. The gala was about to begin officially.

Evelyn linked arms with Vivian. "If Manager Sophia's path is blocked, do we have other options? There are more investment banks in Hudson City."

Vivian's shoulders slumped. "We've tried everything. Sophia was our last hope..." Her voice turned furious. "That bastard Alexander! He deliberately sabotaged me in front of everyone!"

"He holds grudges," Evelyn murmured.

"Just because I advised you to divorce him?" Vivian stamped her foot. "That petty man! Acting all composed before—he was just biding his time to retaliate!"

Evelyn patted her hand. "Let's leave first."

They slipped out through a side door into the rear garden.

Vivian kicked off her heels and plopped onto a stone bench. "Evelyn, I'm so sorry for dragging you into this."

"Don't be ridiculous." Evelyn sat beside her.

Vivian gazed up at the stars, her voice suddenly thick. "Why is everything so hard for us..."

Evelyn's heart ached. "How much funding does Dempsey Group need?"

"No!" Vivian straightened abruptly. "We still owe you 1.3 million!"

"I'm just asking."

"Don't even ask!" Vivian grabbed her heels and stood. "I have an idea. Let me try it first."

Evelyn eyed her suspiciously. "What idea?"

"Wait for my update." Vivian had already called a car. "I'll take you home first."

Late at night, the lights were still on in the Anderson residence.

"Dad, Mom, I'm back."

Grace Anderson rushed over in delight, then hurried to fetch a coat. "You're barely dressed—what if you catch a cold?"

"It's a gala." Evelyn smiled, accepting the warm water her father handed her.

On the living room sofa, a calculator weighed down several sheets of paper covered in numbers. Andrew Anderson's handwritten signature and red company seal were faintly visible beneath.