Chapter 516 No Wonder She's Suspected of Being Not Real
Instead of blowing up - which would only prove her lack of wit - Lucia clenched her jaw, glaring at Evelyn. Though, if Evelyn were honest, she wasn't entirely wrong in her judgements about Lucia's cleverness.
Evelyn met the furious gaze aimed at her with indifference, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen of her smartphone, showing no intention of engaging in a confrontation.
Before long, they pulled up to a popular styling salon in Columbia. By the time they arrived, it was already bustling with people.
But Lucia, being a premium member, enjoyed certain privileges. They were escorted to a VIP suite, which to Evelyn's surprise, was occupied by others.
"Lucia, why are you just getting here? We've been waiting for you for ages," greeted someone with warm familiarity, looping an arm through Lucia's.
The group consisted of the Kennedys, coming with the sole purpose of having Evelyn's back for Lucia.
Casting a sidelong glance at Evelyn, Lucia's comment had a touch of nonchalance. "You know my sister is new to Columbia. Dad asked me to show her around a bit."
"Oh," they chorused, shifting their collective focus onto Evelyn.
Evelyn didn't cower under their scrutiny, meeting their eyes with a smile and a nod, acknowledging them with a segmented greeting.
The group was taken aback; this wasn't the impression they had of a country girl.
"I suppose you're Lucia's sister? You two don't look alike at all."
Evelyn retorted without missing a beat. "I guess that's why Dad’s doubted whether she was his own."
The atmosphere turned tense, especially for Lucia.
With eyes full of feigned hurt, Lucia protested, "How can you say that, sister? I grew up by our father's side. If I'm not his blood, who is?"
"Lucia, don't be upset. We have to understand where your sister comes from," one of the friends comforted, undermining Evelyn's upbringing, "She was raised in the countryside, probably without much proper education. It's only natural she lacks a certain respect."
Lucia snickered, hoping to see discomfort on Evelyn's face. But alas, her expression remained undisturbed.
The surprise was palpable among the group as Evelyn remained cool as a cucumber.
"Let's start with styling," suggested someone, eager to move on. "We shouldn't keep the evening waiting."
Lucia agreed with a nod, albeit begrudgingly speaking to Evelyn, "Sister, feel free to pick out a dress here. A stylist will attend to you."
Evelyn responded noncommittally with a simple “Oh,” implying the matter was of little importance to her.
Irritated, Lucia thought, “What a facade. If not for me, she wouldn't even dream of wearing dresses from a place like this.”
The group settled into their styling sessions, and Evelyn, unfazed, did the same as a stylist approached her.
As the stylist reached for the curling iron to give her tight ringlets, Evelyn promptly intervened, "Switch to a 1.25-inch barrel, please. I'm not a fan of the tight curls."
"Miss, please trust our judgment," the stylist insisted, ready to proceed with the tight ringlet styling.
Evelyn frowned, grabbing the stylist's wrist, "I said switch the curling wand, got it?"
The commotion caught the attention of Lucia and her entourage, whose faces turned sour at the sight.
"What are you doing, sis?" Lucia snapped, visibly upset. Even she hadn't dared to challenge the stylists here. How could Evelyn be so bold?
After all, this was one of Columbia's most prestigious salons, a place where simply having money didn't cut it.
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