She Cut the Maid’s Hair to Humiliate Her — Then the Guest at the Gate Recognized Exactly What Kind of Woman She Was

Dragan didn't immediately call the police. A quiet arrest would allow Clarissa to use her massive public relations team to spin the narrative and protect her reputation.

Dragan wanted absolute, catastrophic public destruction.

Two days later, Theodore Hawthorne hosted a massive, high-society reception at the estate to officially introduce Clarissa to his most elite investors and the media. The grand ballroom was packed with local news cameras, wealthy donors, and politicians.

Clarissa wore a stunning, flawless platinum evening gown, practically vibrating with arrogant triumph as she posed for the photographers.

Nadia was working the event, serving champagne in her white uniform, her hair tied tightly under a scarf just as Clarissa had cruelly demanded.

At the height of the reception, Theodore stepped up to the microphone, smiling warmly. "I want to thank you all for coming to welcome the future Mrs. Hawthorne—"

The heavy mahogany doors at the back of the ballroom suddenly swung open.

Dragan Kovac walked in. He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit, projecting the aura of a grim reaper. Walking right beside him was Oswald, carrying his leather-bound notebook.

The room fell entirely silent. Theodore frowned, confused by his friend's intense expression.

"Dragan?" Theodore asked. "What's going on?"

Dragan didn't stop until he reached the center of the ballroom. He looked directly at the beautiful, platinum-blonde monster standing on the stage.

"Theodore," Dragan announced, his deep voice echoing off the crystal chandeliers. "I think it’s time your guests heard exactly how your future wife runs your legacy."