Chapter Eighty-Five

Where on earth had Arthur gone? Why wasn’t he back yet?

At that moment, the sound of running water echoed incessantly from inside a bathroom. The tap was left open, the stream intermingled with faint traces of red. Arthur lifted his head to gaze into the mirror. His face was wet, several golden locks clinging to his cheeks. Droplets slid from the bridge of his nose, and his lush, rose-colored lips looked sensually inviting—if only one could ignore the two crimson trails running from his nostrils.

Arthur let out a self-mocking laugh and scooped another handful of water to splash his face, trying desperately not to think of that captivating little woman who had unsettled his heart. After another rush of cold water, the bleeding finally stopped. Straightening up, he took out a handkerchief and dried his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number for Lilith Castle.

Meanwhile, as Shadowmoon waited for Arthur in her formal dress, several more people ascended from downstairs—a noisy group of women. Shadowmoon frowned. The attendant, adept at reading faces, hurried to shut the door, apologizing, “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. I forgot to close the door just now.” In her excitement, the attendant had neglected the rule: the VIP room was for one-on-one service. Once occupied, others had to choose another room. If they insisted on this one, they would have to wait until the first guest had finished.

“It’s all right.” Shadowmoon smiled at the attendant’s worried expression.

The attendant quickly went to close the door, but it was too late—several women had already entered and were trying to step inside.

“I’m sorry, ladies, but this VIP room is occupied. Would you kindly move to another?” The attendant smiled professionally, gesturing politely, though inwardly she berated herself for her carelessness. The clientele here were all wealthy or noble; offending any one of them could spell disaster. If these ladies would just go to another room, all would be well. But if—

“We want this room. Move,” one bejeweled lady said haughtily, not sparing a glance at the attendant.

Just as she’d feared!

The attendant was deeply frustrated but maintained her professionalism, repeating with a pleasant tone, “Ladies, I’m truly sorry, but this VIP room is already in use. Would you please choose another?” But seeing that the group was undeterred and about to enter, she anxiously blocked their path, sweat beading on her brow.

“Madam, I apologize for the trouble, but this room is indeed occupied. Please allow me to show you to another. Every room here is identical in layout, so it won’t affect your shopping experience.”

“You’ve already ruined my shopping mood,” the haughty woman replied impatiently, growing angrier as the attendant continued to block her way.

Another woman fanned the flames, “Move aside! Don’t you know who you’re talking to? How dare you be so insolent!”

“Exactly! This is Lady Street, wife of Baron Street! How dare you disrespect her!”

“Yes, move now or you’ll pay for it if you anger her!”

“But… but…” The attendant looked helplessly at the clamoring group, so anxious her whole body trembled, sweat trickling down her temples.

“Baron Street is waiting downstairs for his wife. Must we call him up here before you move?”

What now? The customer is always right—none could be offended. Yet that gentleman earlier didn’t look like an ordinary person either; offending him would be trouble too. What to do?

Lady Street, seeing the attendant still refusing to yield, exploded in fury. She strode forward, raised her right hand, and slapped the attendant’s face with a resounding crack.

The slap was sharp and loud. The attendant’s face swelled instantly, blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. The women with Lady Street looked at the attendant as if she were trash, as though she deserved such treatment. Their eyes, when turned on Lady Street, were filled with mockery and disdain—though the haughty lady herself remained oblivious.

The commotion in the VIP room attracted a crowd of onlookers. They watched as Lady Street paraded her power, but none dared intervene.

Inside, Shadowmoon heard the noise and hurried out. She saw at once the once-smiling attendant now sprawled wretchedly on the floor, her expression a mixture of anger and fear. Shadowmoon was instantly furious.

“Who did this?” She went to the attendant, lifted her up, wiped the blood from her lips with a silk handkerchief, then looked up at Lady Street and her group.

Lady Street and her companions were stunned by Shadowmoon’s entrance.

What a beautiful woman!

When no one spoke, Shadowmoon asked the attendant, “Who hit you? Tell me!”

The attendant glanced fearfully at Lady Street but remained silent. Lady Street, sensing the attendant’s fear, assumed it was because she’d recognized the baron’s wife and dared not provoke her. Hmph, too late! You’ve displeased me, and I’ll make sure you’re unhappy too.

“It was me. So what?” Lady Street declared loftily, completely dismissing Shadowmoon’s anger.

The other women, hearing Lady Street foolishly admit to it, quietly stepped back, turning away as if they didn’t know her. Inwardly, they cursed her for an idiot.

Shadowmoon helped the attendant to a nearby sofa, then stood and addressed another staff member, “Go get your manager.”

The staff member looked from Shadowmoon to Lady Street, then hurried upstairs.

Shadowmoon turned and fixed Lady Street with a stern gaze. “You should apologize.”

Lady Street looked astonished, digging at her ear as if she’d misheard. “Are you speaking to me?”

“Yes. You. Apologize to her now.”

“Do you even know who I am? You want me to apologize to her?” Lady Street sneered, glancing contemptuously at the attendant.

The attendant, cowed by Lady Street’s glare, whispered, “Miss, it’s not the lady’s fault. I… I tripped and fell myself.” Her voice trembled with grievance, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Shadowmoon’s gaze fell on the attendant’s once fair cheek, now swollen like a steamed bun—marked with a vivid handprint.

“Please apologize,” Shadowmoon repeated, her eyes locked on Lady Street.

“You little brat, you don’t even know who I am, yet you dare demand an apology from me? You must have nerves of steel!”

Well, it seemed that Chinese sayings truly were all the rage these days.

Lady Street advanced menacingly, her hands outstretched as if ready to strike Shadowmoon should she utter another word.

But Shadowmoon stood her ground, showing not a trace of fear.

The crowd watching sighed inwardly—a pity such a lovely girl might soon suffer.

Just as tempers flared and the atmosphere grew tense, the boutique manager arrived. On his way, the attendant had explained everything: two customers vying for the VIP room, neither willing to yield, and now it was moments away from a fight.

The manager surveyed the scene. When his eyes fell on Lady Street, annoyance flickered in his gaze. That woman caused trouble every time she came—perhaps he should consult with the head office and have a notice posted outside banning her altogether.

His gaze shifted to Shadowmoon, and admiration flashed in his eyes—such a beautiful and refined young woman! Her calm and dignified demeanor earned his silent praise.

After taking in the situation, the manager approached Lady Street and addressed her politely, “Madam, this is our store’s policy. Would you please choose another room?” He gestured invitingly.

But Lady Street, never one for rules, ignored him, her eyes fixed on Shadowmoon. Suddenly, she caught sight of Shadowmoon’s dress and her eyes lit up.

“I want that dress. Take it off now, and leave this room,” she ordered imperiously.

“I like this dress as well. Madam, please consider another. And, please apologize at once.”

“Enough talking—take it off!” Lady Street snapped, her patience gone. Seeing Shadowmoon unmoved, her anger flared. “What, do you want me to take it off for you?”

Shadowmoon frowned, “I’ve also set my sights on this dress. Please choose another.”

“I want this one! Take it off!” Lady Street said, stepping forward as if to strip Shadowmoon herself. The manager, seeing the situation escalate, sent someone to fetch Baron Street while trying to block Lady Street.

“Madam, please, we have many beautiful dresses for you to choose from!”

“Hmph, I want this one. Get out of my way!” Lady Street pushed the manager aside, sneering, “You look so shabby—there’s no way you could afford such an expensive gown. Hurry up and take it off!”

“How do you know I can’t afford it? This dress is mine today!” Shadowmoon was growing angry.

“Oh, I see—your patron must have handed you a card as a reward for your good service,” Lady Street said, her face twisting with disdain. “You’d better save your breath. One day, when you’re abandoned, you won’t even have a retirement fund! Hahaha—”

Shadowmoon trembled with rage. Such humiliation—how could anyone speak like that?

The onlookers, who had been there for the spectacle, now eyed Shadowmoon with a peculiar look. They whispered among themselves—so the girl was a nobody after all.

As Lady Street basked in her triumph and the crowd whispered, a sudden “crack!” shattered the din.