Chapter 1393
Chapter 1393:
Rupert went quiet. Then, in a low, sincere voice, he said, “You look stunning p>
With some time left before the party, Annabel decided to take the dress off for now. Rupert left to handle the arrangements. Just as she was about to follow, her phone rang.
It was Rory.
“We found the journalist,” he said without preamble. “And he’s told us everything p>
“Good.” A faint smile tugged at Annabel’s lips, the gleam in her eyes hinting at something deeper.
As she ended the call, she rounded the staircase and nearly collided with Heather.
It was Heather.
Annabel slipped her phone away, not in the mood for small talk. She tried to walk past, but Heather stepped into her path.
“Annabel, the party is about to begin. You haven’t changed yet?” Heather’s eyes swept over Annabel’s clothes, confusion written all over her face. “Don’t you have an evening dress prepared p>
Annabel paused, briefly questioning Heather’s intelligence.
Looking up at Heather, she replied, “If you don’t have anything worth discussing, don’t scramble for a topic. It’s embarrassing p>
Heather’s face drained of color, her smile fading. As Annabel turned to leave, Heather called out again.
“Annabel, what have I done to make you hate me this much p>
“Think about it yourself. Maybe if you figure it out, you’ll stop bothering me.” Annabel had no interest in prolonging the exchange. She had expected Heather to have some kind of scheme, but it seemed she’d been wrong.
A servant came up the stairs just then. Annabel gave a calm instruction. “Please take the dress in the blue box from my room down to the cloakroom p>
With that, she turned and walked away.
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Left behind, Heather clenched her fists. A vicious thought flashed through her mind—she could shove Annabel down the stairs right now.
But she forced it down, drawing a slow breath. She couldn’t afford to lose control.
Just then, she noticed a servant carrying something out of Annabel’s room.
Not long after, the party began as planned. Guests streamed into the Benton family villa. Bruce, seated at the head of the table, chatted with those who had come to offer their birthday wishes.
After a while, Bruce leaned toward Rupert and whispered, “Where’s Annabel? Why isn’t she here p>
Rupert glanced toward the staircase, then headed for the cloakroom. When he opened the door, he found Annabel sitting on the edge of the bed, absorbed in her phone, a blue dress box beside her.
“What happened?” Rupert asked at once, sensing trouble.
Annabel didn’t answer. She only looked at him, her eyes quietly telling him there was more.
Rupert stepped closer and saw the dress inside the blue box. It had been ruined—slashed in multiple places, completely unwearable.
“Do you know who did it?” Rupert’s eyes narrowed.