Yasmin and Brenda exchanged glances, realizing they were more concerned about each other than themselves. They smiled.

Brenda signaled L. Menck, the action manager, who was scanning the crowd. The moment he spotted her, he rushed over. Brenda pointed at Wendy and said, “Ms. Jones is in an unstable mental state. It would be best if she didn’t enter the venue.” He immediately instructed security to escort her out.

“But…an invitation!” Wendy cried in panic.

Brenda smiled politely. “Mr. Rhodes is one of our largest shareholders. Naturally, we follow his wishes.” The crowd then remembered that Brenda’s father, Arthur, was a well-known collector, and his Dunville Auction House shares had been a coming-of-age gift. However, Brenda was extraordinarily gifted, possessing an impeccable eye for value; she had already made a name for herself in the world of collectors despite her youth. She was never defenseless, even after losing her parents.

Brenda and Yasmin arrived late, just as guests began seating themselves.

“The Whitmore family promise to redeem Annie’s keepsake? You didn’t really need to come in person.”

Brenda had little interest in auctions like this; the items were far less valuable than those in her own collection. She was only there to…

“See them,” Yasmin stated flatly. “I need to see it with my own eyes.”

As she spoke, her gaze locked onto someone across the room. Not far away, Veronica stood, dressed in an identical moonlight-white gown, speaking to a man. The man, positioned slightly away from Yasmin, was tall and impeccably dressed, exuding effortless elegance. Initially focused on an older businessman, he turned toward Veronica the moment she spoke. Yasmin’s eyes met Caleb’s.

Almost simultaneously, Caleb’s gaze shifted beyond Veronica, directly to Yasmin. Their eyes met. Yasmin’s expression changed from shock to icy coldness. Caleb began walking toward her.

Veronica quickened her pace, matching Caleb’s steps, making it appear as if they were arriving together. Caleb’s eyes fell on Yasmin’s hand, bandaged in white, further wrapped in shimmering silk, making the injury almost imperceptible against her moonlight-white gown.

“Let me see your hands,” Caleb said, reaching for her.

Instinctively, Yasmin stepped back. Brenda stepped forward to block Caleb’s path.

“What do you want, Mr. Grant? Admiring your handiwork?” Brenda’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

Caleb clenched his jaw, but his expression remained composed. His voice was steady. “Mrs. Grant, do you really think hiding behind Brenda will help?”

Caleb, though disciplined and refined, never strictly followed the rules. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent the night with Yasmin when she had shown up drunk at his door. Yasmin had no idea what he was planning.

The guests fell silent, their eyes on the unfolding scene. Yasmin took a deep breath, stepped to the side to face Caleb directly, and stared at him coldly. Glancing at Veronica, she said, “I thought you and Veronica came together?”

“We didn’t,” Caleb denied immediately, reaching for her hands again. “Let me check your wounds, Yasmin. Be a good girl.” His last words were soft, laced with helplessness and affection, as if coaxing a stubborn child.