Chapter 49: Scam Artist
“Are you Raylee Goodridge? I thought it was some blind fool, but it’s you! Did you see my car and deliberately run out to blackmail me by staging an accident?” The woman’s arrogant rant filled the air.
Under the dim light, Raylee finally saw the driver clearly. It was Shanice! No wonder the voice sounded familiar. Raylee wanted only to retrieve her shoe, but her twisted ankle betrayed her; she stumbled and fell again.
“Well, well. You can’t even walk properly now, can you? Playing the victim card? Just tell me, how much money do you want?” Shanice crouched, not to help, but to pat Raylee’s face, her voice dripping with conceit. “I’m loaded, so I can afford whatever number you give. I can even buy your life!”
Onlookers felt injustice for Raylee, but Shanice’s expensive car and haughty demeanor intimidated them into silence. Her privileged airs and reckless arrogance were a formidable combination.
Then, a black sports car pulled over. Casimir hurried out, Waverly close behind.
“What happened?” Casimir asked.
“I ran into a scam artist!” Shanice huffed. “This woman ruined a perfectly good Christmas party!”
Raylee glared. “Firstly, you ran a red light. Secondly, I didn’t know it was your car, and I didn’t take a penny. Where’s this scam coming from?”
“Raylee?” Casimir was surprised.
“Raylee? Oh my goodness!” Waverly rushed to help. “Shanice, there’s a misunderstanding! How could my sister be a scam artist?”
Raylee coldly shrugged off Waverly’s hand, forcing herself to stand. Shanice scoffed, “How would I know why she tried to set me up? Perhaps the Goodridge family didn’t give this fake heiress enough money, so she resorted to this scheme?”
“Shut up, Shanice!” Casimir reprimanded. “You ran the red light. Even if you hadn’t, you should have yielded to pedestrians. And you’re accusing her of scamming you? The Lorimer family sent betrothal gifts; Raylee’s about to marry into the family. Why would she need anything from you?”
“What? Betrothal gifts? No! On what grounds does Raylee deserve this? Did the head of the Lorimer family agree?” Shanice exclaimed.
“It’s true, Shanice. The Lorimer family came to my house with the gifts just days ago,” Waverly confirmed.
Shanice was speechless with fury. Casimir ignored her, helping Raylee with her shoe. He crouched, saying, “It’s too cold. Let me help you.”
Waverly’s jealousy flared. He’d never been so tender with her. His eyes shone only for Raylee. Her hidden hands clenched as wild jealousy consumed her.
Raylee, startled by Casimir’s action and ankle pain, lost her balance, falling into his arms. Casimir held a soft, delicate body. He realized how frail she was—a little over five feet tall, weighing perhaps seventy to eighty pounds. A surge of sympathy made him hold her tighter.
Raylee felt his strength and warmth. For a moment, she was stunned by their closeness, their intimacy before the crowd. Their eyes met; she felt his breath, a potent mix of hormones that made her cheeks burn crimson.
“You vixen, get away from my brother!” Shanice shrieked.
Raylee, regaining her senses, quickly pulled away. Casimir, aware of her injury, tried to support her, but she resisted, as if avoiding a plague. The night was cool, but his heart felt colder still.
“Casimir, your fiancée is here, and you’re displaying affection with this vixen! Is that really okay?” Shanice was exasperated.
“Enough,” Casimir glared. “Stop calling her a vixen! Have some decency!”
“You’re yelling at me for this woman? Repeatedly!” Shanice was incredulous.