Elizabeth could smell it—betrayal. It lingered in the air, subtle yet potent, even as she sat poised in the car. Draped in her Jimmy Choo Atelier gown, the scent of expensive perfume surrounded her, but it couldn't mask the stench of rumors.
She knew someone had been spreading whispers about her health, veiled in the polished conversations of the wealthy.
Underneath the glittering glass chandeliers of the charity ball, the murmur grew louder, carried on the lips of women with diamond-encrusted secrets.
"You traveled to France?" Rebecca Pierce, a politician's wife, asked, a tall wine glass delicately cradled in her hand.
Elizabeth stood tall, her shoulders squared, her confidence unwavering. The lies her parents had taught her were an armor she wore well. "Yes," she replied smoothly, gesturing to the exquisite painting of a horse displayed nearby, a masterpiece by a renowned artist.
"I acquired this in Paris. One million dollars," she added, her tone casual yet commanding.
Rebecca tilted her head, her smile sharp as glass. "Are you sure you were in France? My niece's cat is at your husband's hospital for mental health therapy." She leaned in slightly, her voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "She mentioned seeing someone who looked strikingly familiar... in the psychiatric ward."
Elizabeth's eyes flickered, but her expression remained serene. She sipped her champagne, the cold bubbles a stark contrast to the heat of Rebecca's words.
The wealthy had a way of disguising their poison in politeness, their gossip wrapped in gilded threads. Rebecca was no exception—a business partner with ambitions to dethrone Elizabeth and elevate her own siblings in her place.
Elizabeth smirked, turning to meet Rebecca's gaze. Her voice was sweet, but her words carried a sharp edge. "And which of my brothers did you extract that information from? Before or after sucking the organs from their breeches?"
Rebecca's face turned scarlet, her composure cracking under the weight of Elizabeth's jab. "Excuse me!" she hissed, indignant.
Elizabeth raised her glass, the smirk on her lips growing into a victorious smile. "No, excuse me."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, her confidence unwavering, leaving Rebecca to simmer in her humiliation.