Chapter 117

The tension in the room was palpable.

"Even if you have personal grievances with Miss Hartley, those clothes she gave you were precious. Is this how you treat them?" Victoria Ellington's voice trembled with restrained fury. "Those were my mother's belongings. How can I not hold you accountable?"

The guests exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew how deeply Victoria mourned her late mother. To finally receive news of her mother's possessions, only to find them ruined—it was a cruel twist of fate. Who wouldn't be devastated?

Evelyn Hartley barely suppressed a smirk, her fingers tightening around Victoria's shoulder in a mock display of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Victoria. I never imagined my disagreement with Olivia would hurt you like this. If I'd known, I wouldn't have given her those clothes."

Victoria wiped her tears with a delicate handkerchief. "It's not your fault. How could you have predicted this? The blame lies entirely with Olivia. She's the one responsible."

"Victoria." A deep voice cut through the murmurs.

A distinguished middle-aged man strode forward, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. Behind him followed a tall, imposing figure—Liam Blackwood.

Evelyn's smile faltered, and Olivia's breath hitched.

Victoria forced a strained smile. "Father."

Reginald Ellington's expression darkened as he took in his daughter's red-rimmed eyes. Victoria was known for her composure—seeing her this distraught was alarming.

"Victoria, has someone upset you?" His voice was ice.

The guests immediately launched into explanations, each account painting Olivia in a worse light. The collective resentment solidified into one damning conclusion: Olivia was at fault.

Reginald turned his piercing glare on Olivia. Without giving her a chance to speak, he declared, "Regardless of the circumstances, my daughter doesn't want you here. Today is her birthday. Her happiness is my priority."

Olivia's face paled. She stood frozen, the weight of their judgment crushing her.

She knew leaving would only fuel the rumors, but staying was impossible.

Liam remained silent, his expression unreadable. His indifference stung more than any accusation. She would’ve preferred his absence over this cold detachment.

Clenching her fists, Olivia typed out a message on her phone: "I apologize for the misunderstanding. The clothes are intact. I'll return them as soon as possible. But let me be clear—I never pushed Evelyn, nor did I intentionally disrespect your mother’s belongings."

No one paid her words any mind.

Reginald gestured toward the exit. "Leave. Now."

Olivia turned, her steps heavy.

Then Liam spoke.

"Wait."

He pulled out an invitation. "This is a forgery." His voice was sharp. "Care to explain why I was nearly barred from entering?"

Victoria's eyes widened. The invitation in Liam's hand was identical to Olivia's.

Her gaze snapped to Evelyn, who paled.

Liam continued, his tone cutting. "And since we're addressing misunderstandings, perhaps an apology is owed to my wife?"

Olivia turned, stunned.

Liam was defending her?

Then it clicked—this wasn’t about her. It was about the Blackwood name.

Victoria hesitated before stepping forward. "Olivia, I... I misjudged you. The invitation—I assumed the worst." Her voice grew quieter, her cheeks flushing with shame.

Olivia exhaled. "Miss Ellington, I swear I preserved your mother’s clothes. They’ve been in storage, so they might need minor repairs. But I’ll return them to you personally. You’d recognize if they were replicas, wouldn’t you?"

Victoria nodded stiffly.

The room fell silent.

The truth, it seemed, was far more complicated than anyone had anticipated.