Chapter 27 Exclusive Release: Chapter 27 - Provocation Doubled. ...
Elias van der Berg had just finished a tense business negotiation meeting, turned on his personal phone, and found a party invitation.
Few people would send an invitation directly to his private number, and he didn't think Wynne Meng was completely unaware of workplace etiquette; she should know the proper way to deal with employers.
But she still sent him the party invitation directly, and this party was clearly a gathering of girls to compete or build connections; no one would dare invite Elias van der Berg to such an event.
Therefore, he had to once again regard her behavior as a provocation.
"Of course. Darling, it took me a lot of effort to get it. It's mine, and it can only be mine."
The provocations have escalated.
Elias van der Berg stood languidly and straight in the wall lamplight of the hallway outside the apartment, occasionally the music and light from the party hitting his face and making him frown.
The white shirt underneath was neatly tied in a Windsor knot, and the coat was unbuttoned, revealing a matching vest that outlined the clean lines from the chest to the waist.
He put one hand in his trouser pocket, took out a tin box containing cigars, removed his pure black sheepskin glove with one hand, and held it in the other hand while lighting a lighter.
Unlike the compliments and laughter inside the apartment, the hallway was quiet. His icy blue eyes calmly swept over her oak door, which already had a nameplate: [Wynne's House].
Amidst the swirling smoke, Elias's face remained expressionless. He listened to the conversation, his gaze not even needing to fall directly on her to capture the image of the Eastern girl surrounded by people, chatting and laughing. He could imagine her slightly raised chin, her sparkling black eyes, and her undeniably eye-catching attire.
He stood quietly for about a third of the time it took for a cigar to burn. Then, without warning, he gently extinguished the cigar with his gloved fingertips.
He then turned around, put on his other glove again, and walked steadily toward the elevator.
Inside the apartment, Yuan Ning was smiling as she answered questions about the photos. The champagne bubbles were still rising, the music was still playing, and her night was reaching its climax.
Outside the door, only the empty halo of light cast by the wall lamps and a faint, rapidly dissipating lingering scent of fine cigars filled the corridor.
Elias went downstairs and opened the door of his silver-gray Aston Martin V12 Vanquish. The performance beast lay quietly in the night, its silver-gray paint gleaming with a cold metallic sheen under the dim streetlights, a stark contrast to the fiery red Ferrari 550 Barchetta not far away.
He settled into the driver's seat, the leather upholstery enveloping him. The interior was filled with the cool, woody scent of his usual Penhaligon's Blenheim Bouquet, mingled with the aroma of premium leather, instantly isolating him from the outside world. This small space was his absolute domain, where order, control, and composure returned to their rightful place.
Before his finger even touched the start button, his personal cell phone in the center console storage compartment emitted a low, restrained buzz. The screen glowed with a faint blue light in the dimly lit car, illuminating his sharply defined profile.
Elias lowered his eyes and looked at his phone screen.
The name “Wynne Meng” is leaping.
His jawline was taut, his thin lips pressed into a straight line without any curve, and in his icy blue eyes, all emotions—if there had been any unusual activity just now—had now been completely suppressed, frozen, and sunk into a deep sea-like calm.
It's not a notification, it's an incoming call.
The vibrations were particularly jarring in the quiet carriage, buzzing along the leather seats. Her call was as unmistakable as she was, impossible to ignore.
The next second, the silver-gray Aston Martin sped away from the parking area like an arrow.
Wynne is a natural center of attention; anyone who ignores her will face even greater provocation.
The vibrations persisted stubbornly for the third time, a buzzing sound like some tiny insect trying to burrow into Elias van der Berg's tightly sealed private space.
Fifth tone.
The sixth tone.
Just as the vibration was about to turn into the seventh note, potentially switching to voicemail, it reached a critical point.
His fingertips finally moved.
It was neither answering nor hanging up.
Instead, he extended his right hand, which was gloved with black sheepskin, and pressed the mute button without hesitation with the tip of his index finger.
The buzzing stopped abruptly.
The name on the screen was still lit up, displaying "missed call," but it no longer flashed or made any sound.
Silence returned, more thorough and colder than before.
Elias withdrew his hand and gripped the steering wheel again.
Yuan Ning stood by the window, put away her phone which had been busy for the third time, her voice languid, soaked with champagne: "What a difficult man."
As the sun shone brightly after the snow, the ripples from last night's events, though the party had ended, were spreading at an astonishing speed.
Emily has apparently switched sides and left the group of four. It's rumored that she received a lot of benefits from Chloe, perhaps because Chloe promised to spend money on Givenchy products from her.
Amanda has always been a conservative, but she shared a photo of Wynne and Kiyokawa on social media and tagged everyone.
Stella, however, is not very interested in the rivalry between the two sisters. She currently believes that associating with Wynne can bring her more scarce resources, and since Wynne has already obtained the title of visiting fellow at the Guggenheim Museum, only a fool would be hostile to her.
Eleanor, needless to say, is now Wynne's spokesperson. Eleanor somehow obtained some software from her tech-savvy boyfriend, so that for every negative comment Wynne makes online, countless counter-comments are simultaneously launched.
Chloe, of course, also rallied her own camp, including girls who had never been able to integrate into Wynne's inner circle, as well as some Latino girls who had always liked to speak ill of Wynne.
After all: "As people of color, we are already a marginalized group in Parsons, but Wynne has always looked down on us and prefers to hang out with those white women. I've disliked her for a long time; she's just a snob."
In the restroom, Meng Qingyuan revealed to Emily, "Do you really think she's on her own? Her mother was my father's mistress for over twenty years, and every penny she spent should have been mine."
Yuan Ning didn't pay attention to those things. When she opened Wynne's Window, she found that her blog's number of followers had skyrocketed by 5,000 overnight. A public relations company had emailed her asking if she was interested in being an online image consultant for a brand, which, of course, would be paid.
In addition, Moira Young told her that because of her blog post, the brand's sales rate had increased significantly, and they were prepared to give her 10% of the sales revenue as commission.
Soon, Yuanning's economic crisis will hopefully be completely resolved.
Yuan Ning spent the entire weekend in the library, conducting in-depth research for the Guggenheim Museum's major exhibition while also working on her Casanova project.
The project results will directly affect academic performance and professor evaluations, so there is no room for error.
Justin Thorne helped her get an invitation to the Chinese Chamber of Commerce dinner tomorrow night. Yuan Ning takes this dinner very seriously and has decided to carefully select a gown for it.
The Chamber of Commerce dinner was a higher-level stage for her, signifying stepping out of the campus and into the real adult world and the capital circle.
The dinner brought together Chinese entrepreneurs, bankers, lawyers, and tech upstarts who have been based in New York City for many years. They possess real capital, industry, and networks, far exceeding the petty displays of wealth and status typical of campus life. Getting to know them means potentially gaining substantial opportunities for internships, projects, investments, and even future career development.
As a fellow Chinese American, it was much easier for her to survive and acquire resources in this circle than to struggle alone in New York City. In any case, she couldn't miss this opportunity.
After finishing her meeting with the research group that morning, Yuan Ning picked up her iBook and a file bag full of heavy documents and rushed to Fifth Avenue to choose a dress for herself.
Although she hadn't shopped here in a long time, she had checked out the seasonal dresses of several target brands in advance from the magazine pages sent to her by the brand's public relations department.
Her gaze was discerning and swift, sweeping over designs that were too elaborate, too girlish, or too conservative. Tonight, what was needed was not to flaunt her fashion sense or to curry favor, but a quiet sense of authority, a dress that would ensure she wasn't looked down upon in an audience of seasoned business professionals, and even that she would be listened to attentively.
It was difficult, but during her time serving Elias, her professionalism improved significantly, and she became adept at cultivating an aura of authority for herself.
So, Dior might be a good choice.
She didn't have a high budget, but luckily she was professional enough. She ended up choosing a navy blue silk crepe gown that retained the classic Bar Jacket's fitted waist and soft shoulder line, but extended into a long skirt. The silk crepe flowed with a subtle sheen, exuding a strong sense of authority. This was almost a textbook example of women's power dressing.
After buying the dress, she glanced at the time, went to the salon to have her hair styled in a sleek low bun, and watched the neon lights on the street light up one after another, reflecting in her dark and calm eyes.
At 6:30 p.m., a red Ferrari pulled up noisily in front of a historic private club building in Midtown Manhattan. There were no eye-catching signs, only an inconspicuous stone emblem above the door and a tightly closed dark oak door, hinting at its members-only, high-barrier status.
The car door opened, and a foot in a black satin Roger Vivier square-buckle high heel emerged first, the slender heel landing steadily on the edge of the red carpet. Immediately following was the solemn rustling of midnight blue taffeta.
Yuan Ning bowed and stepped out of the car.
The evening light had faded, and the city lights were just coming on. She stopped and took a deep breath.
All things considered, this seems to be the closest she has ever been to Elias van der Berger on her own.
The idea came to her unexpectedly, and it excited her.
Elias's world is composed of ancient families, capital operations, private clubs, and relationships in the political, business, and academic circles. The Chinese Chamber of Commerce dinner she is currently attending also has a distinct ethnic character, and its core is also composed of capital, connections, heritage, and unique social etiquette.
Under the glow of the classic wall lamps at the club entrance, the true color of her Dior midnight blue taffeta dress finally became apparent—a deep, almost black, hue, like the end of the universe.
Justin only provided her with an invitation; the real battle was up to her.
To her surprise, yet also as she expected, Meng Qingyuan was there as well.
It was Meng Qianyue who provided the invitation letter, which makes perfect sense. Meng Qianyue is a well-known figure in the domestic business world, so getting an invitation letter to pave the way for his daughter would be a piece of cake.
Yuan Ning suddenly realized that she had never received such resources from her father.
She seems to be loved, but what is she really like?
Two paths, two routes, meet in this hall at this moment.
Inside the door is another universe. Yuan Ning doesn't have a father who's a big shot in the domestic real estate industry, but her business card lists all her titles, which are her assets.
Meng Qingyuan stood on the left side of the hall, wearing a pink tweed suit from Chanel's current season. The pink color made her skin look fair, and she was wearing a full set of Cartier jewelry.
Just as Yuan Ning saw her, Meng Qingyuan turned her head.
Putting aside their appearance, they don't actually look like sisters at all.
Meng Qingyuan was somewhat surprised, and her gaze quickly swept over Yuan Ning's entire body.
Clearly, she was unwilling to believe that her sister was still living so well after all her property had been taken away.
The opponent still lost to him without a single mistake.
Why should that be?
Why should an illegitimate daughter live a better life than the daughter of the legal wife?
Meng Qingyuan's sweet smile froze instantly. She couldn't help but think that even if Emily was right and her sister was doing two internships at the same time, she couldn't possibly be living like this. She must be much more down on her luck than she imagined.
That's the punishment that illegitimate children should receive.
Her presence here indicates that she also has an invitation.
Meng Qingyuan felt a pang in her heart; she suspected that her father had betrayed her mother once again.
Meng Yuanning wears the latest gowns, throws parties, and lives in a luxury apartment on Park Avenue. There's no doubt that her father is still secretly giving her and her mother money.
On what grounds?
The thought screamed in her mind, almost bursting through the carefully maintained sweet mask.
Meng Qingyuan hated her biased and unfaithful father, and even more so Meng Yuanning, who received all the benefits but went unpunished.
Betrayal. Betrayed once again.
How could a father allow that woman's daughter to climb to a position on equal footing with him, or even more prominent?
Meng Qingyuan felt a tightness and pain in her chest, as jealousy and anger entwined around her like vines.
She watched as Yuan Ning calmly took the wine, turned around, and naturally began to chat with an uncle she knew who was an art investor. The uncle even listened quite attentively.
Yuan Ning didn't even glance at her again. She had ignored her the entire time.
Yuan Ning took out her business card; her identity and title were the best explanation. Her status as a Guggenheim Fellow was hard to ignore for art investors.
"I had no idea that our Chinese community had produced someone like you, who has achieved so much at such a young age. May I ask who your father is?"
Yuan Ning smiled slightly: "I can't say I've achieved anything, and who my father is is not important. If you think highly of me, we'll have plenty of opportunities to cooperate in the future."
As the dinner progressed and the atmosphere grew increasingly lively, people gathered in small groups, their voices rising in hushed tones, and cigar smoke curled upwards. This was the perfect moment for social networks to be forged and resources to flow discreetly.
Yuan Ning became increasingly radiant, while Meng Qingyuan's expression turned innocent yet resolute.
She walked onto the stage, picked up the empty microphone, and turned the volume up to the maximum without hesitation.
"Sizzle—!!!"
The ear-piercing roar of electricity drew everyone's attention, the conversation came to an abrupt halt, the wine glasses hung in mid-air, and hundreds of eyes, filled with astonishment and confusion, turned to look at Meng Qingyuan.
Her gaze swept across the audience, finally settling precisely on the elegant and noble figure in the crowd—Meng Yuanning—with tears in her eyes.
Yuan Ning also stopped talking, slowly turned around, and faced the stage. Her face remained expressionless, but her dark eyes appeared exceptionally deep under the bright stage lights.
Is it finally coming, Meng Qingyuan? What do you and your mother want from me before you'll stop?
She thought she was prepared to face any crisis and accusations, and that she was strong enough to be fearless.
But she is still just a twenty-year-old girl, nothing more.
"Good evening, everyone, uncles, aunts, and great-aunts." Meng Qingyuan spoke, her voice carrying through the loudspeaker throughout the hall, trembling slightly but exceptionally clear, "I'm sorry to disturb your enjoyment. But... I just couldn't help it."
She sniffed, tears welling up in her eyes with genuine emotion, clearly a victim.
“Tonight, here, I saw someone I know very well.” She pointed in Yuan Ning’s direction, her fingertips trembling slightly from the force of her gesture. “My half-sister, Meng Yuan Ning.”
"Sister, I just want to ask you, why was your mother, Ms. Qiao Yiya, able to be my father's mistress for over twenty years with a clear conscience? And you, as an illegitimate daughter, how can you so brazenly squander the wealth that originally belonged to my family!"
"Sister, can you tell me why?"
She spoke tearfully, her accusations hitting the nail on the head: "For over twenty years! My sister and her mother have cast a shadow over our family! They squandered the money that belonged to my mother and my two siblings! They lived a life of extravagance! And my mother, for the sake of the family's integrity and my father's reputation, endured so much grievance and shed so many tears!"
She pointed sharply at Yuan Ning, her voice rising abruptly, filled with righteous anger: "And her! Meng Yuan Ning! This illegitimate daughter! How dare she stand here so glamorous, enjoying everyone's praise and opportunities? Her dresses, her luxury cars, her mansion... weren't all of these bought with our Meng family's money, with my mother's suffering?!"
"My father is foolish. He's been soft-hearted time and time again, secretly helping them behind my mother's back! And what have they done? They've become even more ungrateful! Tonight, they even came to this event that belongs to respectable business people, trying to use their glamorous appearance to cover up their dirty origins, to continue to cling to others and leech off them!"
"Today, in front of all the elders, I will tear off her hypocritical mask! A bastard who got to where she is today by destroying other people's families and extorting ill-gotten gains!"
She practically screamed the last three words, which were amplified through the microphone and echoed throughout the hall.
All eyes were on Yuan Ning. Shock, disdain, sympathy, curiosity, scrutiny... a variety of emotions intertwined to form an invisible net, firmly enveloping her at the center.
Meng Qingyuan stood on the stage, her chest heaving, tears still wet on her face; she was not a victor either.
But she only wants Yuan Ning to lose, and she wants her to become a public enemy.
"Private, biological, female."
Those three words pierced through Yuan Ning's incredibly strong exterior.
The Dior logo, which she was so proud of, was wrapped around her like a shackle, and all eyes were fixed on her with a sense of judgment.
If nothing unexpected happens, starting today, she will be ostracized by the entire Chinese community in New York City.
She tried to straighten her back and explain the inaccuracies in Meng Qingyuan's words, but her physical reaction always preceded her mental breakdown, making her blame herself for her fragility and uselessness.
Those usually beautiful, calm, dark eyes welled up with tears, blurring her vision.
Then, her shoulders began to tremble slightly, not from the cold, but from a kind of cold numbness and stinging that spread from the deepest part of her heart. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, only to recede the next second, leaving behind a ringing in her ears and a pale, bloodless face.
Yuan Ning forced herself to stop trembling. Her mind went blank, leaving only a sharp ringing in her ears. Her physiological reaction prevented her from making any sound, so she could only turn around and walk away. She could no longer stand under the spotlight.
Justin, who was busy handing out business cards in a corner, inexplicably witnessed a dramatic scene, but he couldn't understand it. It wasn't until his translator explained the gist of the story to him and pointed to Yuan Ning standing in the middle of the crowd that Justin realized what was happening.
"It's related to Miss Wynne? Why didn't you say so sooner!"
Justin quickly stepped aside, took out his phone, and dialed Richard, Elias's senior assistant.
Elias's work number was given to him by the other party after the investment intention negotiations were successful, and he was told that he could call it in case of emergency.
Is this an emergency? For Justin, it is!
Elias is attending a meeting to discuss matters related to the family foundation, which is being led by his father, Viscount Arthur van der Berg.
His work phone was answered by his assistant, Richard.
Twenty minutes later, Justin received Richard's reply: "Mr. Van der Berg asks you to stay at the scene and collect as much evidence and testimony as possible. The lawyer needs to define this as an assault based on the testimony. You are not responsible for anything else."
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