* FREEBIE * Chapter 121 : Why is this bitch still pressing the issue?

- please read to the very end of the chapter - 

Ava woke to the cold touch of the hardwood floor against her skin. Her nightgown felt strangely loose, slipping slightly off her shoulder as she groggily pushed herself up. A dull ache radiated from her waist, making her wince as she realized her lower body was sprawled on the floor while her legs still rested on the bed.

Had she fallen off in the middle of the night?

She rubbed her temples, feeling weak and disoriented. The last thing she clearly remembered was taking a drink from Alexei. After that, everything was a blur—just a deep thirst and the vague sensation of searching for water. Her mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but nothing came.

Ava exhaled in relief. At least she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of anyone. She must have somehow returned to her room early. However, a new problem presented itself—she hadn’t brought any extra clothes, and the silky sleepwear Rita had given her wasn’t appropriate for stepping outside.

Just as she reached for her phone to call Rita, the doorbell rang.

Rita stood outside, her posture stiff, her gaze flickering between Ava and the hallway behind her. In her hands, she held a neatly folded outfit.

Prior to this, earlier this morning Rita had already received a call from Alexander. Alexander's meeting had been going on until now. "Send a set of clothes to Ava. Her clothes got wet yesterday, right?"

Upon hearing Alexander's voice, Rita's face turned red as if she had been pricked. "Okay, Xander."

Rita didn’t know if it was just her imagination, but it seemed like her cousin's voice carried a hint of satisfaction. Was he feeling satisfied from a night with Ava?  

"Here, Ava. Change into these," Rita said, her voice slightly strained.

Ava smiled, reaching for the clothes. "Thanks."

Rita hesitated, her eyes lingering on Ava’s neck as if searching for something. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red.

"What is it?" Ava asked, puzzled by Rita’s odd behavior.

"N-Nothing!" Rita stammered. Then, as if to cover her flustered state, she added, "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," she replied casually, recalling that she must have fallen off the bed, "but nothing serious." Ava smoothed the fabric of the fresh clothes against her palm.

Rita face turned even redder. "That’s… that’s good."

After changing, Ava stepped out, and together, they headed toward the main corridor. As they walked, a commotion at the far end of the hallway caught their attention.

A woman, barely able to stand, was wrapped in a bodyguard’s coat as he half-dragged her forward. Her legs trembled beneath her, as if they could give out at any moment. A small crowd had gathered, whispering amongst themselves.

"I can’t believe it. She really did that?"

"That’s Ava Alvarez, isn’t it? The designer?"

"Apparently, she was hitting on everyone last night—even the bodyguards! Can you imagine? And it happened in Victoria’s room. No wonder she’s furious. Alexander’s still in a meeting, so he doesn’t know yet."

Ava froze.

Victoria’s brows furrowed as she listened to the gossip swirling around her. She had planned for Ava to be humiliated—had Michelle bribe a waiter to spike her drink, ensuring she would make a fool of herself. Michelle had followed Ava closely, but she never returned. Meanwhile, Victoria had spent the night entertaining socialites, sleeping elsewhere.

Now, as she returned to her room, she had awoken to quite the scandal. The sound of hushed voices, the murmurs of disgust—it all played into the narrative she had carefully orchestrated.

Inside Victoria’s room, muffled cries could still be heard.

Michelle was trapped inside, her face ghostly pale. Last night, she had only meant to follow Ava discreetly. But somehow, she had ended up being dragged away by a disoriented, drugged bodyguard.

She had spent the entire night in terror.

The moment Michelle heard the crowd gathering outside, her stomach twisted. If they saw her like this, she would never live it down. Her reputation in New York’s elite circles would be in ruins.

Panic clawed at her throat—until she heard her cousin’s voice, laced with faux concern.

"Is it Ava? I noticed you didn’t look well last night. Are you alright?" Victoria called out, deliberately loud enough for the crowd to hear.

Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

"So she really was here all night?"

"She was at the pool yesterday. I thought she left early. Didn’t expect her to sneak into a bodyguard’s bed instead!"

"Disgusting. A well-known designer behaving like this? No way Alexander lets her handle the house now."

"And with a bodyguard, of all people? Guess that’s all she could get."

Mocking laughter spread through the corridor.

Inside the room, Michelle's mind worked frantically. She knew she had only one way out—shift the blame onto Ava. She quicklu put on her clothes and covered her face with a jacket. She turned to the now sober but visibly shaken bodyguard.

"When we go out, you call me Ava," she ordered in a harsh whisper. "I don’t care if you even know who Ava is. If you say anything else, I’ll have you locked up for the rest of your life!"

The bodyguard, still trying to piece together what had happened, remembered drinking one of Trina’s wine glasses before blacking out. Fear settled in his gut. He frantically nodded, grabbing his coat and draping it over Michelle to shield her identity.

When the door finally opened, the hallway was filled with eager onlookers, some whispering, others smirking. Victoria stood at the forefront, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Ava, if you’re going to sneak around with a man, at least don’t use my room," she said mockingly. "I’m just grateful I didn’t come back last night, or things would’ve been… uncomfortable."

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. Whispers started—if Victoria hadn’t been in her own room, had she spent the night in Alexander’s? That possibility sent a thrill through some and jealousy through others.

Michelle, hidden beneath the bodyguard’s jacket, tugged at the hem of his shirt, signaling him to speak.

The bodyguard, swallowing hard, quickly played his part. "Miss Ava, I'm sorry. I drank too much last night. Let me take you away."

Michelle sighed in relief. Everything was unfolding exactly as she had planned.

But just as she and the bodyguard took a few steps, Victoria’s voice rang out.

"Ava, I get that you have your needs, but shouldn’t you at least apologize to me first? You used my room for your little tryst. Now, it’s too dirty for me to even step inside."

Michelle’s pulse pounded. She hadn’t been able to contact Victoria yet. What if Victoria truly believed she was Ava?

Before Michelle could react, Victoria took a step forward, reaching for the coat draped over Michelle’s head.

"What are you hiding for?" she sneered. "Let everyone see the face of the woman who got caught!"

Michelle clutched the coat desperately, leaning into the bodyguard for support, but the fabric was yanked away in one swift motion.

Gasps filled the corridor.

Victoria’s smirk vanished instantly as she took a staggering step back.

The once-taunting crowd fell into stunned silence.

The woman standing in front of them, tangled in the sheets of scandal, wasn’t Ava.

It was Michelle.

Victoria’s face paled. She instantly realized what had happened—Michelle had tried to pin this entire mess on Ava.

She barely hesitated before shoving the jacket back over Michelle and spinning toward the crowd.

"You know what? Forget it," Victoria said, her voice forced and tight. "I forgive you, Ava. Just… go."

Michelle exhaled shakily, her pulse thundering in her ears. She had been moments away from complete humiliation.

The others looked at Victoria in confusion, whispering about her sudden change of heart. Many even praised her, saying she was kind enough to let "Ava" leave without further shame.

Then, from the far end of the hall, a cool, measured voice cut through the murmurs. "Were you just calling me?"

The crowd turned in unison.

Ava stood there, calm and composed, dressed impeccably with not a single sign of dishevelment.

The real Ava.

Victoria’s heart sank.

Everyone’s eyes darted between the poised woman in front of them and the one still cowering under the jacket. The whispers escalated, confusion turning into realization.

If Ava was standing here, then the woman hiding…

A slow, cruel smile played at Ava’s lips.

"Is someone impersonating me?" she asked smoothly, tilting her head slightly, her gaze locking onto Victoria.

The people who had just been ridiculing Ava fell silent, shame creeping up their spines. Even Farah, who had been relishing Ava’s downfall, shrank back.

Ava’s eyes swept over the stunned faces before settling on Victoria, her tone light but razor-sharp.

"No one’s speaking," she mused. "That means I was right. Now, I’d love to know who this person is and why you all so easily believed she was me. Who exactly gave you that information?"

The moment the question left her lips, every head slowly turned toward Victoria.

After all, she had been the one to expose the so-called "Ava" in the first place.

Victoria’s face turned deathly pale. Why did Ava have to show up now, of all times?

Ava’s gaze locked onto her, her expression calm but sharp. "Miss Laurent, have you even seen the woman’s face? Or did you just assume it was me because it was convenient? If I hadn’t appeared today, would everyone here have left believing I was the one caught in this mess?"

A murmur rippled through the guests. That was exactly what had been planned—without Ava there to defend herself, word would have spread like wildfire. Alexander’s designer, tangled up with a bodyguard? The scandal would’ve taken on a life of its own, whispered in every high-society gathering.

Victoria felt the heat of scrutiny pressing down on her. If she didn't handle this correctly, not only would Ava's reputation be damaged, but hers would be, too. And unlike Ava, she had far more to lose.

She quickly softened her tone, a well-practiced look of remorse settling onto her face. "Ava, you only made a brief appearance last night and left so suddenly... I thought—"

"You thought," Ava interrupted, her voice unwavering. "You thought it was me, but you didn’t bother to verify. I have no personal quarrel with you, Miss Laurent. If your issue is that I became Mr. Vanderbilt’s designer, you could have asked him to terminate my contract openly instead of trying to ruin my name behind my back."

Victoria's composure faltered, her carefully crafted expression cracking. Her lips parted slightly, as if forming another excuse, but she hesitated.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

The tension in the air thickened.

Ava’s gaze shifted to the bodyguard still gripping the cloaked woman’s arm. His jaw was tight, sweat forming at his temples.

"I don’t believe we’ve met before," Ava said evenly.

The bodyguard swallowed hard. He was caught between two forces—Victoria’s status and the truth he couldn’t afford to tell. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "I’m sorry, Miss Alvarez, I was mistaken. This woman… her name is also Ava. That’s why I called her that."

Ava raised a brow. "Is that so?"

Before anyone could respond, Rita, who had been standing near the entrance, casually extended her leg.

The bodyguard, too focused on escaping, didn’t see it. He stumbled, and the woman in his arms tumbled forward.

The cloak she had desperately clung to slipped from her grasp.

Gasps echoed across the room.

Michelle lay sprawled on the marble floor, her hair disheveled, her dress barely clinging to her shoulders. Faint bruises and unmistakable love bites covered her skin. Her wide, panicked eyes darted around the room, meeting the judgmental stares of the guests.

Someone whispered, "Isn't that Victoria's cousin, Michelle?"

Another voice chimed in, "Wait, why was she pretending to be Ava? Has she ever used that name before?"

Victoria’s heart pounded against her ribs. If she didn’t act fast, she’d go down with Michelle.

Feigning shock, she gasped and took a step back. "Michelle?! What… what is the meaning of this?"

Michelle turned to her cousin, her breath hitching. "Cousin, I… I—"

Victoria cut her off with a sharp slap across the face. The sound echoed in the silent room.

"How could you do something so disgraceful?!" Victoria’s voice trembled, filled with carefully manufactured outrage.

Tears welled in Michelle’s eyes as she clutched her cheek. She had expected Victoria to protect her, but she had underestimated how quickly the woman could discard her when necessary.

"Cousin, I’m sorry!" Michelle sobbed. "I was forced! I had no choice! Last night… he raped me!" She pointed at the bodyguard, playing the victim without hesitation.

The moment Victoria spoke, her tone carried an air of authority, as if she were delivering a final verdict. "Michelle is a lady of the Laurent family. How dare you treat her like this? Do you realize you could go to jail for this?"

The bodyguard, clearly shaken, immediately dropped to his knees. "Miss Laurent, I swear, I don’t know what happened! I only had a drink, and suddenly... my body felt strange." His voice was laced with panic, his forehead already damp with sweat.

Victoria exhaled sharply, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the real issue—Michelle’s impersonation of Ava. "Don’t make excuses! Whether or not someone tampered with the drink, you’re still guilty." Her words were crisp, filled with unwavering conviction, as if her family's name alone could erase all doubt.

Ava, however, wasn’t fooled. She could see exactly what Victoria was doing—redirecting everyone’s focus to the drink rather than the real deception at play. And sure enough, murmurs began rippling through the crowd as people started questioning where the drink had come from, completely sidetracked from Michelle’s deceit.

Ava’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Miss Laurent, we can certainly investigate the drink," she said, her voice smooth and unhurried. "But before we do, I have a question for this bodyguard." She turned her gaze toward the trembling man. "Tell me, Michelle doesn't have the name Ava. So why did you call her that?"

A flicker of hesitation passed over the bodyguard’s face, and Victoria’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides. The sharp inhale she took betrayed her frustration.

This damn woman. Why is this bitch still pressing the issue? Why couldn’t she just let it go?!

The air in the corridor felt thick, weighed down by tension and the scent of expensive perfume lingering from the evening’s event. Michelle could barely lift her head, her face burning with shame. This was the most humiliating moment of her life!

And it was all because of that wretched woman—Ava Alvarez.

If she hadn’t been trailing Ava last night, she wouldn’t have ended up in that compromising position. If Ava hadn’t shown up at this exact moment, no one would have known that the person tangled up with the bodyguard was her.

Everything—every ounce of her disgrace—was Ava’s fault.

Her fingernails dug into her palms as she shot a venomous glare at Ava, seething with a silent promise of revenge.

But Ava remained composed, her posture poised and her expression as unreadable as ever. Under the dim corridor lighting, her presence was almost chilling, an impenetrable wall of quiet strength. She arched an eyebrow, her voice smooth yet sharp as a blade.

“Miss Michelle Laurent, care to explain?”

Michelle tasted blood in her mouth, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from lashing out. The humiliation was unbearable, her skin crawling with the eyes of onlookers.

Then, a new voice cut through the charged silence.

"Ava, my cousin is the victim here," Victoria interjected, her tone as polished as ever. She took a slow step forward, every inch the composed and calculating socialite. "Shouldn't your tone be a little more considerate? Perhaps the bodyguard simply made an error."

The bodyguard caught on quickly, nodding with urgency. "Yes, I misheard. I'm truly sorry for almost causing a misunderstanding."

Ava knew she had no choice but to drop it. No matter how suspicious Michelle’s behavior had been, the narrative had already been rewritten before her eyes. The bodyguard had taken the blame, and Michelle was now the poor, wronged party.

If Ava pushed any further, she’d be the one painted as unreasonable, the one who had overstepped.

The silence in the corridor grew heavier, the air thick with unspoken words.

Then came the sharp, measured click of polished shoes against the marble floor. A presence strong enough to shift the entire energy of the room.

Alexander.

He stepped into view at the end of the corridor, his tailored black suit pristine, his tie loosened slightly—just enough to suggest he’d come straight from a meeting. His sharp eyes scanned the scene before him, taking in Michelle’s pale face, Victoria’s carefully composed expression, and Ava standing firm in the middle of it all.

His arrival sent a ripple through the tense atmosphere, a silent question hanging in the air.

And Ava knew, in that moment, that this situation was far from over.

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Dear Gentle Readers, 

Thank you so much for the kindness and support.

This is actually 2 chapters combined into 1 hence the length... 

In regards to the last author note, this author has informed the editor. It appears there are criterias — copied below. 

GoodNovel will promote your book based on the following criteria: 

1. Frequent and regular updating:

a. Updating more than 1,500 words AND at least two chapters DAILY - did but it seems free chapter is not counted ;

b. Updating 25 days and more in a calendar month. - Always

2. At least 50K words updated in a calendar month. More word counts means more updating, and more updating means more for readers to read! -75K of words last month 

3. Comments matter! More unique reviews (book/chapter reviews) = more readers' engagement! Reader recommendations are another key factor in promotion. 

After much considerations, author will publish 2 paid chapters (since only the paid chapters' words count) & 1 free chapter. Despite this very odd arrangement, this author hopes you will still read the story. This author will make sure the free chapter is longer...

Grazie di acore. 

Yours, EC