Chapter 128

Vincent Sullivan's icy gaze swept over Sophia Lowell like a blade.

"Must you shout? Do you think I'm too old to hear?"

His voice simmered with suppressed anger.

Sophia trembled and hastily lowered her head. "Uncle Vincent, I would never imply such a thing."

Vincent's expression darkened. If not for his birthday banquet, he would have already ordered this insolent girl thrown out.

Seeing the tension ease slightly, Sophia quickly presented a wooden box like a prized offering. "I brought this gift especially for you."

The butler stepped forward to accept it. Inside lay a rolled-up antique painting.

"It's a Longevity Scroll I found at an antique market," Sophia said softly. "One hundred calligraphy styles for good fortune. May you enjoy endless health and happiness, Uncle Vincent."

Vincent gave it a cursory glance—then his pupils constricted sharply.

The butler exchanged a look with him, his face instantly hardening.

"We'll accept the gift," the butler said coldly. "Miss Lowell, you may leave now."

Sophia froze. "But I came to celebrate Uncle Vincent's birthday—"

"I personally issued every invitation." The butler's lips curled in derision. "I don't recall sending one to you."

Sophia paled. "I'm Professor Ethan Sullivan's student—"

"Regardless of who you are," the butler cut in sharply, "no invitation means no entry. We're quite familiar with social climbers like you sneaking into events."

His tone turned dangerous. "But presenting a counterfeit painting as a birthday gift? What exactly are you playing at?"

Every guest's eyes locked onto Sophia.

Her blood turned to ice.

This was the most exclusive banquet in the city, attended only by elite family heads. She'd schemed relentlessly to get in—only to fail spectacularly at the critical moment.

"That's impossible!" Her voice shook. "I paid a fortune for it—"

The butler raised a hand. "Compose yourself. If you continue making a scene, I'll have security escort you out."

Sophia's nails dug into her palms.

Just as humiliation threatened to crush her, a gentle male voice intervened. "Uncle, perhaps this is a misunderstanding."

A slender man in a gray suit approached. Pale and coughing lightly, he nevertheless stood firmly beside Sophia.

"I brought her as my guest," he said calmly. "The girl knows nothing about antiques—buying a fake is an honest mistake. Must we publicly shame her?"