Chapter 12 A Pathetic Bribe

Desperately seeking a brief refuge from the suffocating, tense atmosphere inside the grand banquet hall, Rowena stood quietly by the ornate, bubbling stone fountain in the center of the hotel's expansive garden. She crossed her bare arms, letting the cool night breeze brush her skin, savoring her moment of much-needed peace. The rhythmic splashing of the water over the carved stone offered a soothing contrast to the fake pleasantries and exhausting social politics indoors. If she had stayed inside any longer, she might have suffocated under the weight of the room's collective ego.

Her quiet solitude was abruptly shattered. "Rowena!" A piercing, shrill voice cut through the chill air, ruining the tranquility of the garden.

Rowena slowly turned her head. She watched Daphne Thorne march haughtily across the manicured lawn, her designer heels digging into the grass as she headed directly toward the fountain. Daphne's posture was rigid, exuding a hostile sense of entitlement that preceded her like a storm cloud.

Unfazed by the sudden intrusion, Rowena merely arched an elegant eyebrow. Looking away with chilling indifference, Rowena taunted the approaching woman. "What's up? Are you looking for more physical slaps to the face? I would have thought the brutal strike from earlier was painful enough to teach you a permanent lesson about minding your own business."

Daphne halted in her tracks, visibly furious and trembling with rage. Her face flushed a deep, angry red. She wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and tear Rowena apart right then and there. Yet, she forced herself to temporarily endure the massive disrespect. She needed to execute her malicious scheme flawlessly. Digging into her expensive Louis Vuitton designer bag with shaking hands, Daphne whipped out a gleaming bank card.

Thrusting the piece of plastic forward with feigned, condescending sympathy, Daphne loudly announced, "There is exactly three hundred thousand dollars loaded onto this card. As long as you firmly promise to never appear in front of my beloved brother again, and agree to immediately pack your bags and leave Riverstone for good, this massive sum of money is yours to keep."

Rowena slowly furrowed her delicate brows. She eyed the plastic card dangling in the air with an odd, bemused look. Inwardly, she scoffed. Three hundred thousand dollars? To the secret billionaire heiress of the Vance Group, that microscopic amount was literal peanuts. It was barely enough to cover a single day's worth of casual shopping for her. She silently questioned if this delusional girl seriously thought such a pathetic, insulting amount was enough to bribe her to leave the city. The sheer audacity of the offer was almost comical.

Misreading Rowena's silent, amused expression as desperate financial temptation, Daphne pressed her perceived advantage. Her eyes gleamed with toxic, malicious excitement at the thought of her trap springing shut.

"Since you grew up in a tragic orphanage, I think it is safe to say you have never seen real money in your life," Daphne mocked, her tone dripping with arrogant superiority as she reminded Rowena of her past. "Unlike you, I drop that much in a week. Back when you were trapped at the Thorne residence, living like a filthy beggar, you were always denied access to any real cash. I think you need this money vastly more than I ever will. Isn't this great news for you? With this cash, you can buy anything."

Inwardly, Daphne was secretly thrilled by her own genius trap. She fully intended to loudly scream and accuse Rowena of violent theft the exact moment Rowena's fingers touched the plastic card. Daphne had already calculated her plan: she would bribe the local police to beat Rowena while in custody, intending to permanently ruin her life with an inescapable criminal record.

Daphne shoved the card closer, demanding, "Take the cash. It is an apology for my previous mistake, and I am sincere this time. I know you are hopelessly strapped for cash. Just take it."

Easily seeing straight through the transparent, amateurish ploy, Rowena merely shook her head in profound amusement. Ignoring the extended hand, Rowena casually pulled out her sleek smartphone.

With a few rapid taps, she sent her executive assistant, Tristan Farrow, an urgent text message. She instructed him to use her supreme Centurion Card to physically withdraw exactly one million dollars in raw, hard cash, and to bring it directly to the garden fountain without delay.

Slipping the phone back into her clutch, Rowena lazily sat herself down on the cold stone edge of the fountain. She tuned out Daphne's growing vocal annoyance at being ignored.

Deeply baffled by the extended, insulting silence, Daphne demanded, "What the hell are you waiting for? Did you even hear a word I just said?"

Rowena rubbed her temples languidly. "Give me a few minutes, will you?"

Losing her patience, Daphne maliciously questioned, "Do you seriously think that a rich, handsome, and influential man like Pierce Vance would ever actually want to marry a discarded, low-class divorced woman like you? He is merely toying with you!"

Right before Daphne could spew any more toxic venom, the heavy sound of rapid footsteps approached on the gravel path. Tristan arrived on the scene, breathing heavily but bowing respectfully as he handed a massive, heavily loaded black suitcase directly to Rowena.

He formally announced, "Here you go."

Daphne stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded by the professional stranger's sudden appearance in the garden. She stared blankly at the oversized luggage.

Rowena gracefully rose to her feet. Taking the heavy suitcase firmly in her grip, she flashed a gleeful, terrifying smile directly at Daphne. A distinctly cold, predatory glint flashed in Rowena's beautiful eyes.

“Since you've already said so much,” Rowena uttered, “it's my turn to speak.”