?Chapter 1109:


    Norton had never looked at her that way.


    Forcing a smile, she pivoted back to Stewart, tilting her head to entuate the graceful curve of her neck.


    “Mr. Carter, what do you mean?” Her voice dripped with honeyed charm, a calcted seduction.


    Stewart’s arm snaked around her, his hand wandering once more.


    Shelly caught his wrist, her grip firm. “Mr. Burke is still here.” She flicked her eyes toward Norton, who stood oblivious, engrossed in conversation.


    Softening her tone, she leaned closer, her fingers grazing Stewart’s chest. “Tell me now, and perhaps after the g, we can discuss… other things.”


    Her words were a velvet trap, and Stewart, predictably, fell into it. He released her, leaning in to whisper, “Word is, Norton and his wife share a marriage of convenience. No love binds them.”


    Relief flooded Shelly, a quiet exhale escaping her lips. A chance remained. Norton was not lost to her. He could never love someone like Yvonne. He belonged to only her.


    With a quick, dismissive smile, Shelly brushed Stewart off, sending him back into the crowd. Picking up a fresh champagne flute, she savored its tart bite, a cunning smile curling her lips.


    Her gaze settled on Yvonne across the room, and a cold snort escaped her. “Enjoy your moment, Yvonne. Norton does not even care for you.” The event thrummed with life, guests swarming Norton like bees to honey.


    Yvonne, watching the tide of admirers engulf him, let out a weary sigh. She had already navigated a gauntlet of small talk—surely she could steal a moment’s reprieve?


    As if sensing her thought, Norton leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. “Stay here and wait for me,” he murmured before stepping away to greet the throng.


    Yvonne’s shoulders rxed, a grateful breath escaping her.


    Shelly’s gaze followed Norton as he walked off, abandoning Yvonne without a second nce. A bitter certainty settled in her gut—Stewart had not been exaggerating. Norton waspletely indifferent to Yvonne. Shelly approached, her confident sway cutting through the crowd like a de.


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    Yvonne’s brow furrowed, her instincts prickling. Though she felt no fear toward Shelly and dismissed her petty schemes asughable, the woman’s very presence scraped at her nerves like sandpaper. She wondered what nonsense Shelly was nning now, her fingers tightening around her champagne flute.


    Shelly’s eyes gleamed with smug certainty as she closed the distance. Yvonne sipped her drink, her expression one of cool disdain, though a flicker of curiosity stirred within her.


    ncing at Norton, whoughed with a guest nearby, she allowed a faint smile to curve her lips.


    She’d let Shelly y her little games. She adopted an air of amused indifference, as if awaiting a performance destined to falter.


    “I know your secret,” Shelly dered, her voice dripping with triumph. Yvonne raised an eyebrow, her head tilting slightly. Her eyes drifted to Shelly,ced with quiet curiosity.


    Shelly’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute.


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