Chapter 650 New Girlfriend
George leaned in to whisper something to her, and the woman covered her mouth, laughing softly. The intimacy between them was almost palpable, as if an invisible barrier separated them from the rest of the world.
Emma's champagne glass wobbled in her hand, nearly spilling its contents, leaving a few winding trails on the glass.
She quickly lowered her gaze, her thick eyelashes casting a shadow on her face, but she couldn't help but steal another glance. George seemed even leaner than before, his jawline sharper, and there was a newfound steadiness in his brow. Only his eyes remained the same, deep and mysterious like a still pond.
But now, the reflection in that pond was of another woman, no longer her own.
"What are you staring at so intently?" A woman's voice suddenly sounded in her ear.
Emma was so startled she almost dropped her glass. She turned to see the woman she had been talking to earlier, who was now following her gaze. "Isn't that Mr. Russell? I heard he recently landed a big project with Seraphim. The woman beside him is the daughter of his business partner, from a very prominent family." She gave Emma a meaningful look. "I hear the families are already discussing wedding plans."
Primrose Wells.
Emma repeated the name in her mind, feeling a lump in her throat, unable to muster even a polite smile. She took a mechanical sip of her champagne, the bubbles bursting on her tongue with a slight bitterness.
During the intermission of the auction, Emma excused herself to touch up her makeup and headed to the restroom.
The bodyguard stopped in the hallway, giving her a moment of respite. Her high heels made no sound on the thick carpet.
As she pushed open the door to the powder room, she came face to face with Primrose, who was reapplying her lipstick. The spacious room was filled with a faint scent of perfume. Primrose stood in front of the large vanity mirror, her movements pausing slightly when she saw Emma's reflection.
"You must be Mrs. Russell?" Primrose spoke first, her voice sweet as honey. She turned to face Emma. "I'm Primrose. I've heard so much about your beauty, and now I finally get to see it." She extended her hand, the diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkling under the light.
Emma forced herself to stay calm and lightly shook her hand. "Ms. Wells, you're too kind." She noticed the diamond ring on Primrose's left ring finger, at least five carats, gleaming painfully in the light.
That ring was like a silent declaration of ownership.
"George often talks about you." Primrose put her lipstick back in her purse and suddenly lowered her voice, leaning closer to Emma. "I actually know about you two." Her eyes bore into Emma's, as if trying to see through her.
Emma's breath caught, her reflection in the mirror pale, the lipstick on her lips unable to hide the sudden loss of color.
But Primrose just smiled, revealing two adorable dimples. "Don't be nervous. I mean, I know you and Michael are very close." She blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "George says Michael dotes on you, and we should learn from you."
So that's it.
Emma gripped the edge of the sink, her nails almost digging into the cold marble.
George not only had a new love but had completely relegated her to the role of "aunt," a distant elder. This realization hurt more than any blade.
"Primrose?" George's voice came from the doorway.
He strode into the powder room, visibly startled when he saw Emma. His steps faltered for a moment before he regained his composure, his expression turning distant. "Oh, hey, Auntie, you're here too." His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion, as if he were greeting a distant relative.
The term "auntie" cut through Emma like a knife, making it hard for her to stand.
Primrose, ever the diplomat, took George's arm. "You two catch up. I'll go grab a drink." She nodded to Emma and gracefully left, the hem of her champagne-colored dress drawing an elegant arc in the air.
The room was left with just the two of them, the air seeming to freeze.
George leaned against the doorframe, a corner of the pocket square in his suit jacket peeking out—the one Emma had given him, embroidered with his initials. The sight made Emma's heart skip a beat.
"Long time no see." His tone was as indifferent as discussing the weather, his gaze as distant as if looking at a stranger. "Michael treating you well?" His eyes swept over her dress and jewelry, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Looks like he's willing to spend on you."
Emma bit her lower lip hard, tasting blood before she released it. "George, I..." Her voice trembled, a thousand words stuck in her throat, unsure where to begin.
"Mrs. Russell!" The bodyguard's voice suddenly called from outside, accompanied by urgent knocking. "Mr. Russell is looking for you." The urgency in his tone was unmistakable.
George let out a cold laugh, straightening up and adjusting his cufflinks. "Seems like Michael keeps a tight leash." He turned to leave, and in her desperation, Emma grabbed his wrist, her fingers trembling as they touched his warm skin.
"Please, have some respect." George pried her fingers off one by one, firm but not rough. "Are you disappointed I'm not dead?" He adjusted his cufflinks again and left without looking back, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.
Emma stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was still flawless, but her eyes were hollow. She slowly wiped away the tear that had yet to fall, reapplied her lipstick, and straightened her back before walking out of the powder room. The bodyguard immediately followed, like two moving statues.
Primrose was admiring an antique brooch in the exhibit area, her slender fingers lightly brushing the glass display case. A few women gathered around, their perfumes mixing into a suffocating atmosphere.
"Ms. Wells, you have a big heart," one woman said sarcastically, her red-painted nails playing with a pearl necklace. "Leaving your boyfriend with that tramp? Everyone knows Emma is the best at seducing men."
"Exactly," another woman chimed in, her sharp voice like nails on a chalkboard. "Before she married Michael, who knows how many men she had. And she was Mr. Russell's ex-wife, marrying his uncle after their divorce. Such a disgrace to women!"
Primrose gracefully set down the auction catalog, a polite smile on her lips. "I trust George." She smoothed her hair, her diamond earrings sparkling with her movement. "Besides, Emma is an elder. It's best to speak with respect." Her voice was gentle but carried an undeniable firmness.
The women dispersed awkwardly, their high heels thudding on the carpet.
Primrose's smile faded as she looked towards the powder room. She took a deep breath, pulled out her phone from her purse, and quickly typed a message before sending it.
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