The banquet hall was bustling, and the commotion drew immediate attention. A wave of murmurs, whispers, and outright laughter swept through the crowd.
“Am I seeing things? Is that a lacy thong?”
“Who would’ve thought? Queena always acts like such a prim and proper lady, but she’s clearly wild in private.”
“It’s always the ones who look the most innocent on the surface.”
“If she’s that bold, maybe we should ask her out…”
The crude comments from the men nearby reached Queena’s ears. A pot-bellied, middle-aged man was staring shamelessly at her. She had twisted her ankle in the fall, trapped by her five-inch heels, and couldn’t even get up. Her vision swam, and she wished she could just faint.
“Queena!” Matthew strode over, whipping off his suit jacket and wrapping it around her. He gently lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the banquet hall.
Throughout the entire spectacle, Bennett remained completely detached. After finishing his call, he returned to Yvonne’s side. “Ready to go back?” he asked calmly.
“Yes,” Yvonne replied, schooling her triumphant expression into one of quiet obedience.
Bennett was known for being impeccably discreet, keeping all women except his girlfriend at a firm distance. Queena had played with fire and gotten burned. She deserved it.



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