At that moment, in the grand hall, Mrs. Watkins and her daughter gazed at Citrine with unabashed admiration, eyes shining like starstruck fans.
The rest of the guests shifted anxiously, not one daring to leave the party early. Tonight, they were all just spectators to the unfolding drama.
People exchanged uneasy glances, as if afraid that Citrine might lash out at any moment.
Someone tried to break the tension with a forced smile.
“President Carmichael, we knew you’d never do something like that.”
Before anyone else could chime in with their flattery, Citrine shot the crowd a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Enough. Not another word,” she said, her voice cold and commanding.
Fair-weather friends, she thought. She had no time or patience for them—and certainly wasn’t about to hand out any favors.
The room fell silent. No one dared speak again.
Citrine gave a derisive snort and turned her back on the crowd, dismissing them entirely.
Her gaze landed on Quentin, who stood off to the side, staring at her in stunned silence. She strode toward him.
“What are you doing?” Quentin managed, swallowing hard. His voice trembled, almost tripping over the words.
Citrine just smiled at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
Quentin could only stare at her face, suddenly so close, his mind going completely blank.
Without warning, Citrine slapped him—hard.
Quentin jumped to his feet, shocked. “You actually hit me?”
She pressed on, “If she truly wanted to keep you away, do you think she’d run to you with her sob story? No, she’d keep quiet and never mention it. But instead, she made sure you’d come charging in to defend her.”
Quentin stood speechless, struggling to respond.
Citrine’s lips curled in a wry smile as she continued, “Just admit it. Kali is using you, Quentin. To her, you’re nothing more than a convenient tool.”
“That video didn’t leak online by accident. And wasn’t it convenient that, right after, she came crying to you and led you here to cause a scene at the Watkins’ party? Do you really believe she had nothing to do with what happened to me tonight?”
Quentin clenched his fists, his expression twisting with denial. “That’s impossible. I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s a good person—she’d never do something like that.”
“She would—and she did,” Citrine said flatly. “The video was uploaded from one of her burner accounts. Tomorrow, everyone will know.”
This time, Quentin had no words. He just stood there, silent and stunned.
Citrine let out a bitter laugh. “Open your eyes, Quentin. What kind of person posts a malicious video online to ruin an innocent girl’s reputation? Kali isn’t the delicate flower you think she is—she’s a venomous scorpion, and you’re letting her use you.”
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