Chapter 333

Margaret's unexpected arrival sent shockwaves through Richard and Evelyn Sinclair.

The instant Richard spotted her, all color drained from his face. His grip on Evelyn's wrist slackened involuntarily.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Margaret would appear at Olivia Cole's birthday celebration.

But the damage was done - she'd witnessed everything.

Truth be told, Margaret had been observing from the shadows for some time. She'd been present when Richard approached Leonard Herty about mentoring Vanessa Hart, choosing to remain silent as she watched the scene unfold.

Yet as guests began drifting apart, her sharp eyes caught the intimate proximity between Richard and a strikingly familiar woman.

Every nerve in Margaret's body screamed danger.

That face... she knew it all too well.

This was Richard's former personal assistant from Horizon Enterprises!

The woman had been legendary for her breathtaking beauty and hourglass figure. Half the single men at the company had fallen under her spell during her tenure.

Whispers spread like wildfire through the office.

Margaret Hayes never tolerated gossip. When she heard the rumors, she had stormed into Richard’s office, only to discover he had already dismissed his secretary.

At the time, Margaret had felt a rush of relief, convincing herself she had overreacted. She thought she had misjudged her husband.

Her trust in Richard had remained unshaken—until now.

Years later, seeing them together at the party was a brutal wake-up call.

Her pulse spiked as realization struck.

What does this mean? They’ve stayed in contact all this time? Richard fired her out of guilt, just to shut me up!

Fury burned through her. She marched straight to Richard and grabbed his tie, jerking him forward.

"Richard! You will explain yourself tonight!"

Her voice was sharp, drawing stares. "How dare you lie to me? Keeping a mistress behind my back?"

Caught off guard, Richard stumbled forward as she yanked him closer.

Then—

A loud whoosh.

His wig flew off, landing on the floor with an almost comical bounce.

The room fell silent.

Bald patches gleamed under the chandelier light.

Margaret froze.

Richard’s face turned crimson.

And the party guests?

They stared.

Some gasped.

One stifled a laugh.

Margaret’s grip on his tie loosened.

This… was not the confrontation she had planned.

"Mr. Hayes' scalp is shinier than my grandmother's antique silver tray!"

"I always wondered how Richard kept such thick hair at his age. Now we know—it was all fake!"

"Where did he even get that wig? It looked so natural! Someone get me the shop's details!"

"Maybe you can ask him yourself—after he recovers from this humiliation."

Richard Hayes' face burned scarlet as he stood frozen, the discarded wig lying at his feet like a dead animal. His dignity had evaporated in seconds.

Margaret Hayes showed no mercy, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel.

"Richard, cat got your tongue? Or are you too ashamed to even speak?"

Her laughter was bitter, laced with years of resentment. "At your age, you should know better than to embarrass yourself like this. Half a minute? That’s all you’ve got? And yet you still had the audacity to cheat?"

The crowd erupted into fresh laughter, some clutching their stomachs.

One voice rose above the rest, mockingly sympathetic. "Come on, give the man a break! He’s over fifty—half a minute is practically a marathon at that age!"

Richard’s hands trembled, caught between retrieving his wig and fleeing the scene entirely. But Margaret wasn’t done.

"Pathetic," she spat. "Utterly pathetic."

The whispers around them grew louder, the spectacle too delicious to ignore.

And in that moment, Richard Hayes realized—his reputation would never recover.

The flush of humiliation burned across Richard's face. He couldn't comprehend how he'd become the laughingstock of this situation.

Wrenching himself from Margaret's iron grip, he snapped, "Thirty seconds? That's your pathetic standard! You know damn well what you're like in bed! Get your hands off me!"

His voice cracked with indignation as nearby guests stifled laughter. The grand ballroom of Whitmore Manor suddenly felt suffocating.

Margaret's grip only tightened, her manicured nails digging into his forearm. "Oh darling," she purred with saccharine sweetness, "must we air our private affairs in public?"

A waiter nearly dropped his champagne tray. Across the dance floor, Evelyn Carter discreetly turned away, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Richard's tie felt like a noose. "This is ridiculous!" he hissed, desperately trying to salvage his dignity. "I demand—"

"Demand?" Margaret arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Like you demanded that prenup amendment last week?" Her voice carried just enough to make nearby socialites lean closer.

The string quartet chose that moment to pause between songs, making Margaret's words echo across the marble floors. Richard wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Alexander Whitmore appeared at Evelyn's side, his smirk barely concealed behind a crystal tumbler. "Should we intervene?" he murmured.

Evelyn shook her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let them have their moment. It's more entertaining than the opera."

At the center of the storm, Richard finally wrenched free, stumbling back into an ice sculpture. The frozen swan toppled with a crash that silenced the entire room.

Margaret sighed dramatically. "Always so... abrupt in your movements, dear."

The resulting laughter followed Richard all the way to the men's lounge, where he vowed to file for divorce by morning.