Angela stayed in the washroom a moment longer, her fingers trembling as she adjusted her dress and smoothed her hair. The sound of the gala beyond the door felt distant, almost unreal, a stark contrast to the heat and urgency that had consumed her moments ago. Her reflection in the mirror offered little comfort, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and eyes alight with emotions she couldn't untangle.

　　Her lips still tingled from Edmund's kisses, her body betraying her resolve with lingering traces of warmth. But her heart? Her heart was a storm, crashing against the walls of her chest with each conflicting emotion that coursed through her.

　　Angela inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself before stepping back into the glittering chaos of the ballroom. Edmund had told her to stay put, but staying isolated only fed the anxiety gnawing at her. Whatever "problem" Mark had mentioned, it was clearly important and Angela couldn't shake the feeling that it involved her.

　　The gala shimmered with decadence. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, illuminating the finest couture and most polished smiles.

　　Julie arrived fashionably late, her gown hugging her figure as though she'd stepped straight off a magazine cover. Her laughter was soft and practiced, her words polished to perfection. Her every step commanded attention, her poise flawless, as though she were born to rule rooms like this one. Yet for Angela, who had grown accustomed to reading the subtle shifts in her mother's demeanor, something felt off.

　　Angela watched her mother glide through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, her laughter blending seamlessly with the ambient hum of the room. Julie's smile was dazzling, her charm effortless, but Angela couldn't ignore the fleeting moments when her mother's eyes darted sharply toward the corners of the room, as if searching for something or someone.

　　"Impressive, isn't she?" a low voice interrupted Angela's thoughts.

　　Angela turned to see Elena, dressed in a sleek black gown that mirrored her sharp demeanor. The journalist's smile was polite, almost friendly, but her piercing eyes gave away the predator lurking beneath.

　　"She's a natural," Angela replied coolly, clutching her own glass tighter.

　　Elena tilted her head, her expression one of mock admiration. "Natural, indeed. It takes a certain talent to juggle so many secrets while wearing a smile like that. You must have inherited it."

　　Angela stiffened but kept her tone even. "I don't know what you're talking about."

　　"Of course, you don't," Elena said smoothly, taking a sip of her drink. She gestured vaguely toward the crowd. "But you know what they say about secrets, Angela, they never stay buried for long. And your mother's are already starting to stink. She's not just an art dealer, is she?"

　　Angela's stomach twisted, but she refused to rise to the bait. "If you're so interested in her business, why don't you ask her yourself?"

　　Elena leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, I've been watching Julie for a while now. Charming, ambitious, ruthless and a criminal, if my sources are correct. I know about counterfeit art. About Julie's 'business dealings.' She's quite the artist herself, isn't she? An artist in deception."

　　Angela's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything. My mother is a legitimate art dealer. Whatever rumors you've heard are baseless."

　　"Don't I?" Elena smirked, her voice soft but cutting. "Your mother's not just an art dealer, Angela. She's an artist in deception, isn't she?"

　　Angela's heart pounded. "You're out of line."

　　Elena chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "Am I? You don't have to confirm it. I already have enough to ruin her and maybe even him." She tilted her head toward Edmund, who stood across the room, deep in conversation with Mark.

　　Angela's cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and panic rising in her chest. "Leave Edmund out of this," she said sharply.

　　Elena's smile widened, her teeth flashing like a wolf's. "Ah, so there's something to leave him out of. Interesting."

　　Angela turned abruptly, cutting off the conversation and disappearing into the crowd before Elena could press further.

　　Across the room, Edmund stood near the bar, his usually unshakable demeanor shadowed by tension. Mark leaned in, his voice low and insistent.

　　"She's here for blood, Edmund," Mark said, glancing discreetly toward Elena. "She's not just sniffing around Julie, she's piecing everything together. You can't ignore this anymore."

　　Edmund swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his jaw tightening. "I know exactly what she's doing."

　　"Then why haven't you handled it?" Mark's voice rose slightly, earning a sharp look from Edmund.

　　"I am handling it," Edmund said, his tone clipped. "The last thing we need is to tip her off or escalate this in public. Tonight isn't just about her. There are other priorities."

　　Mark exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "Just don't let your priorities blind you. She's dangerous."

　　"I'm aware," Edmund said, his voice cold. But as his gaze drifted across the room, landing on Angela's retreating figure, his resolve softened. "Keep an eye on her. I'll deal with Angela."

　　Angela stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her flushed cheeks. The noise of the gala faded into the background, replaced by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. She gripped the railing, her knuckles white as she tried to steady her breathing.

　　"Angela," came Edmund's voice, smooth and familiar. "It's cold out here."

　　Angela turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his tuxedo impeccable, his expression unreadable. "I needed air," she said softly.

　　"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said softly, his gaze scanning the shadows as though expecting danger to emerge from them.

　　Angela forced a laugh. "I needed a break from all the polished lies."

　　Edmund stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know tonight is a lot. But you don't have to face it alone. I'm here. I saw Elena corner you. What did she say?"

　　Angela hesitated. "Nothing I didn't already suspect. She knows about the counterfeits, Edmund. She knows about Julie."

　　Edmund nodded grimly. "She's trying to bait you. Don't let her."

　　"That's easy for you to say," Angela snapped, the frustration finally breaking through. "She's not pointing fingers at you."

　　"Not directly," Edmund said, his voice low. "But make no mistake—she's watching us both."

　　Angela stared at him, her voice trembling. "What are we even doing, Edmund? This... everything about tonight feels wrong."

　　He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers on the railing. "I'm trying to protect you, Angela. From Elena, from Julie, from all of it."

　　"And who's going to protect me from you?" she asked, her eyes locking onto his.

　　The question hung between them, heavy and unresolved. Edmund's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, the balcony door swung open.

　　"Edmund," Mark interrupted, his tone urgent. "We've got a problem. Julie and Michael."

　　Edmund cursed under his breath, turning back to Angela. "Stay here. Please."

　　Before she could protest, he was gone, leaving Angela alone with the weight of her doubts.

　　In a secluded corner of the venue, Julie stood face-to-face with Michael, her poise fraying at the edges.

　　"You're playing a dangerous game," Michael murmured, his voice low but pointed.

　　Julie sipped her champagne, her hand steady despite the faint tightening of her jaw. "And you think I don't know that? Don't patronize me, Michael."

　　Michael leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not patronizing you. I'm warning you. Someone's watching closely tonight, and they're not here to enjoy the canapés. You need to tread carefully."

　　"You're pushing too hard," Julie hissed, her voice low but sharp. "This deal isn't something we can rush."

　　Michael's smile was cold, predatory. "And yet, rushing is exactly what we're going to do. You don't seem to grasp the stakes here, Julie."

　　"I grasp them perfectly," she snapped. "But if we move too quickly, we risk exposure. Do you want Elena to have more ammunition?"

　　Michael's expression darkened. "Elena isn't the threat you think she is. She's a distraction. The real danger is already here, watching closely, waiting for us to slip. If you don't finalize this deal, I won't be the only one breathing down your neck."

　　Julie's confidence wavered, her eyes flickering with unease. "I need time."

　　"You're out of time," Michael said flatly, stepping closer. "You've already delayed this long enough. One more misstep, and you'll lose more than just your precious reputation."

　　Julie's composure finally cracked, but before she could respond, Michael stepped away, blending seamlessly back into the crowd.

　　Angela reentered the ballroom, her nerves still raw. She was searching for something—or someone—but she wasn't even sure what.

　　She didn't see Elena until it was too late. The journalist emerged from the crowd like a shadow, her hand curling around Angela's wrist with surprising strength.

　　"Angela," Elena said, her voice soft but laced with steel. "We're not done yet."

　　Angela tried to pull away, but Elena's grip tightened. "Let me go," Angela said, her voice low but firm.

　　"Not until you hear me out," Elena said, her eyes boring into Angela's. "You think you're innocent in all of this? That you can just stand on the sidelines and pretend you're not part of it? You're in deeper shit than you realize."

　　Angela's pulse quickened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

　　Elena leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Your mother's lies. Edmund's past. The counterfeit scheme. It's all connected, Angela, and you're right in the middle of it. If you keep pretending you're not part of this, you'll only get hurt when it all comes crashing down."

　　Angela yanked her wrist free, her voice trembling. "You don't know anything about me."

　　Elena's smile was razor-sharp. "Don't I?"

　　Before Angela could respond, Julie appeared, her expression tight. "Angela, there you are," she said, her voice brisk. She didn't even glance at Elena. "Come with me."

　　Angela hesitated but followed, casting one last glance at Elena, who remained by the entrance, her eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk.

　　As Julie led her toward a quieter corner of the venue, Angela's mind raced. The pieces were shifting, the stakes growing higher. And as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew this night was far from over.