Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

It was a rowdy night.

The bar thrummed with booming music, and the dance floor was packed.

Upstairs, in a private booth, Lizetta and Yolanda were sipping on red wine, deep in conversation.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a woman dressed in a chic red houndstooth suit, exuding an air of opulence, stormed in with eight bodyguards clad in black.

Narrowing her eyes, she zeroed in on Yolanda and immediately, her face twisted in rage.

"You little tramp! Daring to reach out to me again-I see the lesson last time wasn't enough. Got off lightly on the internet these past few days, huh? Well, I'll give you what you deserve! Beat her, smash everything up!"

This woman was none other than Mrs. Davis, the very same one who had orchestrated a previous attack on Yolanda in a viral video.

At Mrs. Davis's command, four bodyguards stepped forward.

Lizetta and Yolanda remained seated, unfazed, as six bodyguards of their own swiftly emerged from a side room, instantly tipping the balance of power.

The door to the booth slammed shut behind Mrs. Davis, her face registering a flicker of surprise.

Seeing the tables turned, Mrs. Davis's bodyguards retreated to her side.

With her backup now outnumbered, Mrs. Davis's anger only intensified as she glared at Yolanda.

"Ah, so you came prepared, setting a trap for me? You little homewrecker, what gives you the audacity..."

Lizetta couldn't stand by as Mrs. Davis hurled insults at Yolanda, standing to interrupt.

"Before you start throwing accusations and names, Mrs. Davis, wouldn't it be wise to get your facts straight? What if you've got the wrong person?" "What are you implying?"

Mrs. Davis frowned, sizing up Lizetta, "And who might you be? What's this to you?"

Lizetta, in her light purple dress, her hair loosely tied up without any ostentatious jewelry but exuding a certain non-ordinary aura and backed by a sizeable entourage, was clearly there to support Yolanda. Mrs. Davis had done her homework on Yolanda, who came from a modest background, a newcomer to the entertainment scene without any significant support.

"Who I am doesn't matter, Mrs. Davis. What does is whether you've got the full story. How about, instead of rushing to violence, you take a seat? Yoli and I would like to show you something interesting." Mrs. Davis, her brows furrowed in confusion, glanced between Lizetta and Yolanda.

Yolanda's injuries were

well-concealed under makeup, and the dim lighting of the booth made them hard to spot. She nodded at Mrs. Davis, pouring a glass of wine as an invitation, "This one's on me, Mrs. Davis. Surely, you're not afraid?"

With a scoff, Mrs. Davis walked over.

What could she possibly fear from them? She was curious to see what they were up to.

No sooner had Mrs. Davis taken her seat than Lizetta signaled to a bodyguard, and the screen facing the sofa switched to a live feed of the adjacent booth.

"Take a look, Mrs. Davis. The next booth over is quite the scene. You might recognize a few faces."

As Lizetta gestured, Mrs. Davis's

eyes locked onto the screen, instantly recognizing Margaret Miller, the heiress of the Miller

family, at the center of the sofa net

Surrounding Margaret were several minor celebrities from Glory Media and friends of Margaret's from high society. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Fate would have it that Stella and Shirley were also there that night.

They were all laughing and chatting, wine glasses in hand.

Shirley let out a sneer, her voice piercing enough to grate through the live feed.

"That Yolanda, what a joke! A

nobody from nowhere thinking she's all that. She's long overdue for a lesson. How dare she compete with Margaret for a man? With a flick of Margaret's finger, and that foot Mrs. Davis was all too happy to play the pawn. Absolutely hilarious!"