Chapter 321 – Face Slapping
The front doors flung open like a tax audit with a grudge.
Click. Click. Click.
Red heels. Sharpened nails. Hair pinned to high-fashion hell.
Fiera Ninevyn had arrived.
The air pressure dropped. The scent of cherry wood, frostbitten orchids, and barely-contained wrath preceded her like a margin call in silk. Her tailored coat flared behind her like a cape, stormcloud-gray and cut to slice.
Her lips? Blood-red.
Expression? Murder.
Aelitha barely turned in time to see the hand coming.
-CRACK!
The slap echoed like a stock crash.
Mira didn't even flinch. She just went, "Oof," and reached for a dumpling.
Lux, meanwhile, swirled his wine and smiled with the satisfaction of a man watching market karma hit a fraud influencer's crypto portfolio.
No—he didn't like drama. Not usually.
But this?
This was a correction.
Fiera didn't yell. She didn't throw her purse. She didn't hiss like a woman scorned.
