Chapter 334

Olivia didn't flinch. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she signaled to a nearby guard.

The burly man responded instantly, swinging his leg back with brutal force. His steel-toed boot connected with Olivia's spine, sending her sprawling face-first onto the cold marble floor.

Pain exploded through Olivia's body as her injured leg twisted beneath her. Yet the physical agony paled in comparison to the crushing weight of regret pressing against her chest.

If only she'd been more vigilant. If only she'd noticed the warning signs earlier and alerted her allies. Her arrogance had blinded her to the viper's nest she'd walked into.

Celeste loomed over Olivia's crumpled form, lips curled in triumph. "Olivia Sinclair," she sneered, "do you have any idea how much I despise you? Ever since you arrived, Miss Kensington's temper has been unbearable. All her frustrations get taken out on me." She crouched down, grabbing Olivia's chin with bruising force. "You were nothing but a charity case. How dare you claim the Kensington name? You belong in the gutter where we found you."

The cruel laughter echoed through the grand hallway, making Olivia squeeze her eyes shut against the humiliation.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps approached.

Olivia braced herself, expecting Seraphina or Gwendolyn to appear with more tormentors. Her last shred of hope flickered out.

Then an unexpected voice cut through the tension.

"Interesting entertainment you've arranged here. Private executions now?"

Olivia's head snapped up, her vision swimming as she struggled to focus.

The masked figure stood framed in the arched doorway, his young assistant Oliver at his side.

Celeste scrambled forward, blocking their path with forced cheer. "Just dealing with a petty thief, Mr. Blackwood," she lied, her voice unnaturally high. "My apologies for the unpleasant sight. Please allow me to escort you to the main hall. Mr. Kensington should be returning shortly."

Oliver, despite his youth, carried himself with the same arrogant bearing as his employer. His sharp features twisted in disdain. "And who exactly are you to dictate where we go?"

Celeste's smile wavered but held. Julian Kensington had been explicit - these VIP guests must be treated with utmost respect. They couldn't afford another misstep against Donovan.

With visible reluctance, Celeste stepped aside.

Oliver leaned toward the masked man, whispering loud enough for all to hear. "Sir, since when do we involve ourselves in domestic disputes? Especially over some common thief?"

The masked man's voice emerged icy and clipped. "Enough."

Oliver fell silent immediately. As he moved closer, his eyes widened in recognition. "Wait - isn't this Olivia Sinclair? The Kensington heiress? Since when do aristocrats get accused of theft?"

Celeste's face drained of color. How did Olivia know these people? This complication hadn't been part of the plan.

Olivia herself stared in shock. Of all possible rescuers, she never expected these two.