Mr. Villain's Lovely Wife

92% Chapter 170 Chapter 170 Pamella could feel her face burning from embarrassment, but before she could say another word, Izzy was already pointing to another painting.

What the hell was this woman saying? Why would she suddenly talk about Cecil? Everyone in this room knew about Cecil Weiss's issue! What the hell was Izzy thinking!? Izzy's gaze remained steady as she turned slightly, lifting her champagne glass to her lips before pointing toward another painting across the room.

"And what about that one?" she asked, her tone effortlessly neutral.

Pamella hesitated for the briefest second, the previous comment still lingering in her mind. But with so many eyes on her. she couldn't afford to falter. She took a breath, forcing herself to focus on the painting in front of her.

"This is a study in atmospheric abstraction," she said, stepping closer. "You can see how the artist plays with muted tones and blurred edges to create a dreamlike quality. The depth here is achieved not through structure but through color gradients- see how the shades transition seamlessly? It gives the illusion of movement, almost as if the painting is breathing" A few of the women murmured in appreciation, nodding along as if they understood.

Izzy watched Pamella with unreadable eyes before glancing at the painting again. "I see." Pamella kept talking, but this time, there was a slight stiffness to her posture. It wasn't hard to tell that she was eager to move -on from the previous topic.

Just as Izzy was about to point to yet another painting, the lights in the ballroom dimmed slightly, signaling the start of the -main program. The crowd began shifting, returning to their seats or gathering closer to the stage where the auctioneer was preparing to speak.

Pamella exhaled sharply, relieved at the interruption. But before Izzy could step away, Pamella reached out and grabbed her arm, her grip firm.

"Shut the fuck up," Pamella hissed under her breath. "Don't do that again, or you will regret it." Izzy turned her head, her expression calm as she met Pamella's glare. "Are you threatening me?" Pamella's grip tightened, but she didn't say another word. Instead, she gritted her teeth before releasing Izzy's arm abruptly and stalking off.

Izzy barely reacted, simply brushing off the spot where Pamella had grabbed her before turning toward the stage.

Pamella moved back to her seat, but she was fuming. Her fingers curled tightly around her champagne glass as she struggled to keep her expression neutral.

That woman-that damn woman-had humiliated her in front of everyone.

Pamella took a slow breath, forcing herself to stay composed.

She would let this go for now.

Because soon enough, Izzy would get exactly what she deserved.

She glared at Izzy who calmly made her way back to her seat, adjusting her dress slightly as she sat down. The dimmed lights signaled the official start of the auction, and the murmurs in the room began to quiet.

Then, her phone buzzed.

1/3 Chapter 170 Izzy glanced at the screen. Atty. Alcaraz Frowning, she stood up, slipping out of her chair as discreetly as possible. Liam was not seated yet us she simply left noting to find him on her way back to their seat. The room was too loud, with gets still shifting in their seats and waitstaff moving around. She needed somewhere quieter.

She stepped toward the outer part of the hall, heading past the grand pillars that framed the entrance. This part of the verse was noticeably less crowded. The soft glow of wall sconces cast elongated chaidoses across the polished marble floor.

To her right, the hallway stretched toward the main lobby, where the occasional guest wandered in or out. To her left, the corridor led to the restrooms and the private lounge area. The elevator doors stood further down their golden panela reflecting the ambient light.

She lifted the phone to her car, pressing answer.

But before she could say anything, the call disconnected.

Izzy stared at the screen, brows furrowing. She immediately redialed, but the call didn't go through. A second attempt. Sresult.

A strange feeling settled in her stomach.

She was about to turn back toward the ballroom, intending to find Liam, when someone grabbed her arm. The touch was firm, halting her in place.

Meanwhile...

"Why are you smiling on your own?" Calen asked Pamella when he noticed her staring at him with a smirk. "Is there something on my face?" "Nothing," Pamella said.

"Then did something happen?" Calen asked. Earlier, he had let Pamella go with the other women while he talked to sacquaintances who were also interested in building connections with the Blackwell Group.

Pamella barely paid attention to Calen's question, her focus lingering elsewhere. Then, as if on cue, a wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

She turned her head, catching the way guests subtly leaned toward one another, whispering behind champagne glasses and exchanging glances.

Without hesitation, she stood. "Get up," she said, tugging at Calen's sleeve.

Calen frowned. "They're about to start." "This will be more fun," Pamella murmured, already pulling him along.

He sighed but followed, allowing her to lead him out of the ballroom and into the open corridor near the lobb As they approached, the low hum of hushed voices grew louder. A small crowd had already gathered near the entrance to the women's restroom, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to quiet concern.

"Someone should call security," a man muttered. “This is embarrassing." Pamella's interest was piqued. She turned to the man. "What's going on?" 16 Mar ☐☐,92%° +48) Chapter 170

He barely spared her a glance before nodding toward the restroom door. "There's been noise coming from inside. The door's locked. No one's cout." Pamella glanced at the growing crowd, noting the presence of several businessmen among them-guests of the gala.

Her lips curled slightly.

Almost immediately, Calen took his phone out of his pocket, but Pamella was quick to stop him.

"What are you doing?" Pamella asked.

"What?"

"Calling 911 is too slow. Someone should call the guards. They should have ssort of key for this door, right? I mean... someone could be in danger inside," Pamella said, her face innocent-almost too innocent. Calen shot Pamella a glance, suspicious of her sudden concern. But before he could say anything, another guest spoke up.

"The housekeeping staff should have a key," a woman murmured, looking toward a nearby waiter.

Someone immediately nodded and stepped away, pulling out their phone. "I'll call them now."

The crowd shifted slightly, their attention fixed on the locked door, A few guests exchanged uneasy glances, while others simply watched, intrigued by the growing commotion. Pamella stood beside Calen, her expression composed as she casually adjusted the strap of her clutch.

This was turning out to be far more entertaining than she expected.

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