Anastasia narrowed her eyes at Evelyn, a flicker of unease crossing her features. "Your husband? Who is he?"

Evelyn's calm expression remained unbroken, which only deepened Anastasia's anxiety.

Had Evelyn married into a powerful, wealthy family?

Rebecca, always eager to stir trouble, saw her chance. She smirked and chimed in. "Anastasia, you won't believe it. Evelyn's husband is Alexander Blackwood. The so-called shame of the Blackwood family."

A scornful laugh burst from Anastasia's lips. Her gaze swept over Evelyn with pure contempt.

"Oh, so you're tied to Alexander Blackwood? The Blackwood outcast, confined to a wheelchair. How utterly tragic."

"Enough!" Evelyn's voice was like ice, sharp and clear. Her usual composure vanished, replaced by a storm of anger.

Anastasia was not intimidated. Her confidence only grew. She leaned closer, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Seriously, Evelyn? You think being Alexander's wife gives you the right to look down on me? Marrying a cripple like him is probably worse than being some old tycoon's trophy wife. At least those old men might be more... useful than your husband."

Her cruel words hung in the air. She turned to the crowd with a smug look, seeking their approval.

"Don't you all think so?" Her laughter was sharp and malicious as she waited for their agreement.

Anastasia radiated power and wealth, a product of her privileged upbringing and her husband's vast fortune. She delighted in her ability to humiliate others without consequence.

The onlookers, intimidated by her presence, could only offer weak, nervous chuckles of agreement.

Rebecca, however, dove into her flattery with gusto. Her laughter was loud and fake. "Oh, Anastasia, you're absolutely hilarious!" she gushed, her admiration entirely false.

Anastasia's lips curled into a smug smile, her eyes glinting with malice. She turned her venom back to Evelyn, whose face was a mask of growing fury. "Why that look, Evelyn? I'm just giving you friendly advice," she said, her voice cutting. "Why don't you go home tonight and divorce that worthless man? Maybe I can even find you someone better—"

Her sentence was cut short as Evelyn, pushed past her limit, threw her wine directly into Anastasia's face.

The red liquid splashed across Anastasia's features, dripping down and staining her expensive, designer gown.

A collective gasp echoed through the room.

The shock lasted only a moment before Anastasia's outrage exploded.

"You've completely ruined my dress!" she shrieked, her voice hysterical. "Do you have any idea what this cost? It's a one-of-a-kind luxury piece! You're going to pay for this!"

The dress was indeed exquisite, a globally coveted limited edition worth a fortune. The sight of it ruined sent a paralyzing wave of fury through Anastasia.

Even Rebecca was stunned. She had never expected such boldness from Evelyn. "She's lost her mind," Rebecca muttered, a mix of shock and disbelief in her voice.

At that moment, Evelyn placed her empty wine glass on a nearby table with a definitive clink. Her face was stern, her eyes locked on the seething Anastasia.

Despite her outward calm, Evelyn's heart was pounding. Her action had been impulsive, a reckless surrender to anger.

But she refused to back down. Anastasia had started this. She had insulted Alexander.

Evelyn took a deep, steadying breath. Her voice was cold and measured. "You insulted my husband. You provoked me. Why shouldn't I defend myself? And your accusations about my dress being fake... can you even prove it?" Her challenge was clear and defiant.