Chapter 39: L’Atout Crevier’s Princess

Ping Xiaoyue's finger jabbed toward Lillie, her expression twisted in mock outrage.

"Ana, how can you be this shameless? Now that everyone knows you tried to copy something untouchable, you think you can just act irrationally?" Though intimidation gnawed at her, she still believed she had won.

This woman—this cheap slut—was nothing more than a pitiful imitation of a phoenix.

A hush fell over the gathering as the Bai family entered.

Their presence was a force of nature—silent, commanding, inescapable. Each of them exuded the same effortless grace that Lillie did, their attire a testament to L'Atout Crevier's unrivaled craftsmanship. Their sharp gazes swept across the room, instantly discerning the spectacle before them.

There was their daughter—the pride of the Bai name—being ridiculed by an insignificant clown.

Yet, they said nothing.

Not out of hesitation or uncertainty, but because they were waiting.

Waiting to watch this fool dig her own grave.

Lillie finally spoke, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Are you done?"

A chill seeped into the air, the murmurs dying into silence.

Though her expression remained unreadable, her gaze was piercing, holding a silent promise—one that made Ping Xiaoyue involuntarily shiver.

"You… Y-you, what are you—"

"You claim that I copied this dress?" Lillie's tone was void of warmth, yet carried the weight of absolute judgment. "Miss Ping, aren't you being hypocritical?"

Ping Xiaoyue stiffened. What did she mean?

"You say my dress is an imitation while yours is authentic?" Lillie circled her slowly, her movements unhurried, deliberate—like a predator sizing up its prey.

"O-of course! Why would I lie?" Ping Xiaoyue forced a smile, but cold sweat slid down her spine.

Madame Agathe, the legendary designer behind L'Atout Crevier, was here. If she dared to claim her dress was personally crafted by her, she would be exposed instantly.

Lillie smirked.

"Oh? Where's your proof?"

Ping Xiaoyue's eyes gleamed with false confidence. "Miss Ana, the proof is inside the dress. I cannot just show it to you here." She thought she had cornered Lillie—forcing her to demand proof would make her look guilty.

Lillie sighed, as if exhausted by such mediocrity.

"Miss Ping, if Agathe Crevier personally made that dress for you, I would know." She paused, letting the weight of her next words settle. "After all, I am her daughter."

The entire hall gasped.

Ping Xiaoyue went rigid.

"…Daughter?" she croaked.

"You want proof that my dress is from L'Atout Crevier? Very well."

With a single, fluid motion, Lillie lifted the slit of her gown, revealing her right thigh and the golden embroidery stitched into the fabric—

A name the world feared and revered.

Lilliana Theodora Bai.

Lillie Bai.

A stunned silence gripped the room.

Frozen expressions. Trembling hands. Eyes filled with sheer terror.

The She-Devil of the Business World—the Elite Society's untouchable Queen—stood before them.

Mrs. Bai chose that moment to step forward, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Petite Fleur, why didn't you tell us you were attending? We could have arrived together." She wrapped an arm around her daughter with effortless grace.

Gabriel crossed his arms. "Sis is being unfair. How could you attend with them and not us?"

Across the hall, Li Yifei smirked smugly at him. Seeing this, Gabriel clenched his fists, barely resisting the urge to flip her off.

"You can't blame your sister, Gabriel." A deep, dignified voice echoed through the hall, commanding instant respect. "She's merely spending time with her future husband and in-laws."

The atmosphere turned suffocating.

With the poised authority of a true titan, Alexander Bai stepped forward.

The weight of their mistake crashed down on the guests like an avalanche.

Regret. Fear. Panic.

Everything they had said a moment ago—ridiculing Lillie, calling her shameless—

How utterly ridiculous they sounded now.

Who was Lillie Bai?

Why would she need to copy anyone when she owned everything to begin with?

She is L'Atout Crevier's Princess.

And they had mocked her?

The guests swallowed their horror.

No—had they known who she was from the start, not even with a tiger's courage would they have dared to insult the She-Devil.

And it was all Ping Xiaoyue's fault.

Every hateful glare turned toward her, their regret twisting into blame.

She had set them up.

She had dragged them into offending someone they should have worshipped.

Ping Xiaoyue couldn't breathe.

No, no, no, no—

This couldn't be.

That bitch couldn't be Lillie Bai.

She was just a gold-digging social climber who clung to her cousin-brother's wealth and influence!

Her face contorted into something monstrous, her impulses overriding reason.

She lunged.

Hands reaching—to strike, to claw, to ruin—

But who was Lillie Bai?

At fourteen, she knew how to stun a man twice her size—with precision, with technique, with terrifying ease.

A simple flick of the wrist, a calculated shift in weight, and her opponent would crumble before he even realized what had happened.

A pitiful amateur like Ping Xiaoyue?

Lillie didn't even need to lift a finger.

She sidestepped effortlessly, and Ping Xiaoyue crashed into a banquet table, sending fine china and crystal shattering to the floor.

"Get her out of here. Now!"

Ping Wen's voice boomed, his rage palpable.

He had spoiled her too much—so much so that she dared to humiliate their benefactor—the true guest of honor.

And to think—he had once considered matching her with Ethan?

What a joke.

Ping Zhi, usually composed, was seething. She marched toward her daughter and, without hesitation, delivered a crisp slap.

A loud crack echoed through the hall.

Ping Xiaoyue screamed, clutching her cheek in disbelief.

Her own mother—the woman who had given her everything—had just struck her.

"You are a disgrace to the Ping family name," Ping Zhi's voice was ice-cold.

"Not only were you rude to our benefactor, but you had the audacity to slander her? To lay hands on her?"

Her dark gaze held nothing but disgust.

Taking a deep breath, she turned away. One last look.

"You're just like your father."

And with that—she walked away.

Ping Xiaoyue's body shook violently.

Tears spilled down her face, her trembling hands reaching out, desperate—

"Mother—!"

But the moment Ping Zhi had uttered those words—

Her entire world collapsed.

She hated her father.

Hated him.

He had been a cheating bastard. He had abandoned them. He had hurt her mother.

She had sworn never to be like him.

And now—her own mother had told her…

That she was exactly like the man she despised most.

The realization crushed her.

Her jealousy had ruined everything.

And now—she had nothing left.