The living room was so quiet it was almost oppressive.
After Secretary Jin finished speaking, it was as if the air had been sucked out of the room.
Ouyang Xuanyue did not speak right away. Her back remained straight, her hands folded on her knees, her posture elegant and noble.
Only, those folded hands were clenched very, very tightly, her neatly rounded nails digging deep into her palms.
She lowered her eyes, her thick lashes casting a shadow beneath them.
Hiding the humiliation in her eyes.
"He has to be mine first."
Those words echoed in her ears like a curse.
She was not afraid of Jin Meixiao.
In her life, from her girlhood until now, the power struggles and political games she had faced had been far crueler than a confrontation in love. Besides, whether in terms of birth, power, or scheming and depth, she did not think she was weaker than the other woman.
If this had been any other scene, if she had been ten years younger, faced with such provocation, she would certainly have struck back long ago.
But the problem was... she was in the wrong.
Because she had indeed crossed the line.
All along, in front of everyone, she had always presented herself as dignified, tolerant, and mindful of the bigger picture—a "holy mother" figure.
Yet behind the scenes, she had secretly used methods that were not exactly aboveboard to seduce Tang Song, trying to seep into his life, even to touch the foundation of his family.
Someone had precisely lifted a corner of the respectable shell she had woven with her own hands, leaving even her unable to keep deceiving herself.
If she did not care about face, it would have been fine. Unfortunately, face was what she cared about most.
This shame