chapter 5

The private room fell silent in an instant. Everyone's gaze turned to Winona, who had her hand over her mouth, whispering to the person beside her.

She noticed the sudden attention and slowly turned her head, putting on a mock look of alarm. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I said that so loudly."

Ethan glanced at Jasmine's expression, then quickly spoke up before she could.

"What nonsense are you saying? LucidDreams was Arkwell Group's signature product—it sold like hotcakes both here and abroad for over 20 years. How could there be anything wrong with it? Any issues were with minor product lines, and even those had nothing to do with Jasmine."

It sounded like he was defending her, but the words were vague, full of loopholes.

Jasmine laughed coldly to herself. What, two nights together, and he's suddenly trying to smooth things over? Trying to sweep the whole thing under the rug like it never happened?

She set down her wine glass and was about to rise when a sharp scoff sliced across the room from the far end of the table.

"That's why I always say—some people really shouldn't try so hard to force themselves into circles they don't belong."

Quinton's gaze was like a blade of ice as it swept across the crowd, finally landing on Winona.

"When Jasmine won the International Fragrance Award, you were probably still doing odd jobs in some small town. What right do you have to question LucidDreams?"

One sentence, and the mask Winona wore was ripped clean off.

Unlike everyone else at the table, she wasn't from any influential family in Lunaville.

She'd only made it into this circle after college—armed with some good looks, a bit of luck, and a wealthy boyfriend just long enough to get her foot in the door.

That boyfriend had long since dumped her and moved abroad. Since then, she'd been floating around the social scene, bouncing between men to stay relevant.

Never elegant, but familiar enough to be tolerated.

People usually gossiped behind her back—this was the first time someone like Quinton confronted her face-to-face.

Winona's face flushed so red it looked ready to burst. She bit her lip and stammered, "Mr. Greystone, we're all friends here. I was just making an offhand comment. No need to be so harsh, right?"

"Friends?" Quinton raised an eyebrow. "Who here is your friend? Name one. The guy who slept with you two nights ago—was he a friend, too?"

"You—!" Winona slammed her hand on the table, but couldn't get a word out.

She didn't even dare look straight at Ethan—she knew there was no way he'd speak up for her.

The atmosphere turned suffocating before Marcus finally stepped in to smooth things over.

"Alright, Quinton, let it go. Winona didn't mean anything by it. Let her apologize to Jasmine, and we'll call it even.

"And Winona, don't take it to heart—Quinton was just teasing. If you've got a boyfriend, bring him along next time! We'll help you vet him properly!"

All eyes turned to Winona again, waiting for her apology so dinner could move forward.

She sat frozen in her chair, squirming for what felt like forever—but still said nothing.

Jasmine smiled sweetly and pulled out her phone.

A second later, Winona's phone buzzed on the table.

"Oh," Jasmine said in mock surprise. "So it was Ms. Redmond." Then she smiled, stood up gracefully, and turned to Marcus.

"Marcus, you must be joking. If Ethan considers someone a friend, then of course I do, too. There's really no need for apologies."

As she spoke, she tapped on the screen. A recording began to play—and within seconds, the entire room was filled with the sounds of a steamy encounter.

Especially the line: 'I sound way better than Jasmine.'

It was clear and unmistakable, reaching everyone's ears with perfect clarity.

She turned her head, her smile gentle and teasing as she looked at the pale-faced Ethan. "Ethan, don't you think so?"