Chapter 69

On stage, the host followed the event schedule, presenting awards to notable guests, including Daphne. After accepting her award, Daphne used the intermission before the charity auction to step outside for air.

The charity event included a traditional segment where attendees voluntarily contributed personal treasures for auction. Guests bid freely, with proceeds supporting impoverished regions, typically used to improve local education.

As the auction neared, Daphne made a quick trip to the restroom. On her way back, she felt a shadow looming over her. Looking up, she saw Wilson.

Standing six feet three inches tall, Wilson commanded attention—a byproduct of years in the corporate world. Today, he wore a sharp black suit and gold-rimmed glasses, exuding a deceptive sophistication, the air of a polished scoundrel.

If not for their history, Wilson's looks, demeanor, and status would have made him a perfect match for Daphne. This is why, when their marriage was announced, her fans offered their support. But now, his presence made her feel physically ill.

Seeing the malice in his eyes, she knew he was there to confront her about Yvonne. Daphne glanced around; the staff had been dismissed—clearly Wilson's handiwork.

This time, Daphne didn't back down. "This is a high-profile event," she said sharply. "What are you planning to do—hit me again?"

"Hit you? When have I ever hit you?" Wilson sneered, still believing Daphne's parking lot injury was staged.

"In the parking lot, you said you'd borrowed a Garrya haute couture gown for Yvonne. You lied."

Wilson's words were laced with chilling hostility. Daphne felt that, without the rule of law, he might harm her.

"Wilson, my conscience is clear. Every couture loan is documented. You can verify it with Garry's CEO. Have you considered that Yvonne deliberately wore a knockoff to frame me?"

Wilson stepped closer, grabbing her chin. His gaze was cold and predatory. "Do you think Yvonne would stoop as low as you? Sneaking into my bed when I was drunk, faking a pregnancy—Daphne, only you'd resort to such tactics."

He was referring to incidents before her rebirth. She had done things others might consider shameful, but she didn't deserve this humiliation.

"Wilson, no matter what I did to save our marriage, it was legal. You, however, are a cheating scumbag. What right do you have to ridicule me? At least I tried. I gave my all."

"Now, take your filthy hands off me. You disgust me."

Daphne forcefully slapped his hand away. Her ring grazed his hand, causing a small cut. Without noticing the injury, Daphne walked away.

"You'll pay for this," Wilson said coldly, touching his wound.

Daphne didn't respond. Lifting her gown, she strode off confidently, thinking, "Let him come at me. I've stopped hoping for anything from this man. Bring it on."

By the time Daphne returned, the charity auction had begun. She had no intention of contributing, preferring direct donations.

Just as she felt bored, she heard the host mention her name. Surprised, she looked up; she hadn't provided anything.

The host announced, "Ms. Daphne Yeager has generously contributed a vintage emerald pendant for the auction. Let the bidding begin!"

The pendant appeared on the screen. Daphne froze. It was her grandmother's pendant.