Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 211: This isn’t favoritism. it’s biased

"Camilla’s here," Melissa noticed the commotion at the door.

Her long, thick lashes fluttered slightly as a faint smile finally touched her eyes.

"I’ll go check."

Vicente watched her hurried departure, then raised his glass and drained the red wine in one gulp.

A flicker of displeasure darkened his deep, obsidian eyes.

He had come to realize something.

This little girl didn’t just have a thing for handsome men—she was equally drawn to beautiful women.

In short, it all boiled down to one word: Shallow.

But perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Vicente lifted his gaze, his eyes settling on the elegant, strikingly handsome man in the distance.

At least it proved that some affections weren’t what he had assumed them to be.

Calvin, sharp as ever, sensed Vicente’s stare and turned to meet it.

Across the room, the two men exchanged a slight, knowing nod.

"Tsk, tsk," Tiffany admired her friend’s stunning beauty while swiftly snapping photos with her phone.

"Our Camilla is absolutely gorgeous—she steals the show the moment she steps in," she gushed, her voice brimming with pride, like an ardent fan promoting her favorite idol.

Calvin glanced at Camilla before shifting his gaze back to Tiffany, who was relentlessly clicking the shutter.

Amused, he arched a brow.

"Why are you taking so many pictures of Camilla?"

"For eye candy, obviously,"

Tiffany replied without hesitation.

"Looking at beautiful things and people lifts the mood and boosts happiness."

It was then that Calvin noticed a tiny black mole perched delicately on the tip of her nose.

"What?" she asked, catching his lingering gaze.

His eyes lingered on that beauty mark for a moment before he mischievously shifted to block her shot, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Am I not good-looking enough?"

Why didn’t she get this excited over him?

It had been like this from the very beginning.

Calvin smirked, watching the woman still holding up her phone.

The man framed in the phone’s camera was breathtakingly handsome, with mesmerizing peach-blossom eyes that sparkled with warmth and depth.

His tall, elegant figure exuded an air of aristocratic refinement—like a character straight out of a Korean webtoon.

"Honestly, you’re gorgeous,"

Tiffany nodded earnestly, her tone sincere.

"Mind if I snap a few shots of you too?"

Her novel desperately needed character references, and someone with Calvin’s looks would be perfect for the role of a tragic yet devoted second male lead—the kind that would undoubtedly make readers’ hearts ache.

Calvin had only meant to tease her playfully.

He hadn’t expected such a serious critique, and the corners of his lips curled into a deeper smile.

"Be my guest."

Without hesitation, Tiffany took several photos and saved them to her reference folder.

"All done—thanks!"

She blinked up at him, her long, thick lashes framing bright, laughing eyes. "It won’t be used for commercial purposes or personal gain."

Calvin was about to respond when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, his eyes flickered before turning to Tiffany.

"I need to take this call.

Don’t wander off."

"Don’t worry," Tiffany nodded in agreement.

Once Calvin walked away, she redirected her camera toward Camilla, who remained encircled by the crowd.

Not all gazes directed at Camilla were friendly, however.

"Pretty as she is, that woman’s nothing more than a decorative vase with no substance."

"Exactly. If not for the arranged marriage, would President Luther even look her way?"

"How many gold-diggers who marry into wealth with just a pretty face end up well?"

Their hushed gossip was abruptly interrupted by a clear, ringing voice.

"So beautiful people are called vases now?"

The speaker regarded them with a puzzled smile.

"Then what do you call those who lack both looks and brains, with nothing but loose tongues for whispering behind people’s backs?"

No looks?

No brains?

The aristocratic young ladies froze in shock—never in their lives had they been insulted so brazenly to their faces.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

One of them, a woman with light-colored hair, snapped out of her daze first, her face twisted with fury as she glared at Tiffany.

"How dare you—"

"Keep your voice down," Tiffany cut her off, taking half a step back with an exaggerated look of fear on her delicate, pretty face.

"I was bitten by a dog as a child.

Still traumatized."

Was she calling her a dog?

"You little bitch!"

The light-haired woman seethed with rage.

"Come on, let’s drag her to the restroom and teach her a lesson."

The other socialites, equally livid, immediately moved toward Tiffany.

Tiffany narrowed her beautiful eyes, completely unfazed.

After all, she had nothing to lose.

Unlike them, she wasn’t shackled by family reputation or personal image to uphold.

Just as the women closed in on her, they abruptly halted.

Tiffany frowned.

Had they chickened out before even making a move, intimidated by her sheer presence?

Then, a warm hand settled firmly around her waist.

"Sweetheart," a man’s tender voice murmured beside her.

"Where did they bite you?

Let me see."

The moment Tiffany turned her head, she was lost in the depths of his mesmerizing, affectionate gaze.

Her pulse fluttered erratically—unlike anything she’d ever felt.

Flustered, she quickly averted her eyes.

"N-not here.

It’s... not appropriate."

With looks like his and eyes that intense, no one stood a chance.

Honestly, she couldn’t even blame those women.

My bad, my bad.

"Then we’ll watch it when it’s convenient," Calvin’s voice dripped with affection and a hint of something more.

"I was only gone for a phone call," His smile remained as he lifted his gaze to the women, but his eyes narrowed into a dangerous slit.

"And you dare bully my girl right under my nose?"

Bully?

If anything, it was this woman who had suddenly lashed out at them.

Who was bullying whom?

The women’s anger twisted into indignation at Calvin’s blatant bias.

"No!"

"That’s not true, Mr. Calvin! We didn’t bully her—she was the one who..."

"Sweetheart," Calvin cut them off, his voice softening as he looked down at Tiffany.

"You tell me."

Clearly, he only believed Tiffany—or rather, he only cared to believe her.

Stay calm! Keep your cool! He treats every woman like this!

Tiffany silently recited her anti-playboy mantra, then took a deep breath to steady herself.

Since Calvin was putting on this act, it wouldn’t refuse to play along.

"They really were trying to bully me," she said, her delicate, fair face adopting a fragile, fearful expression as she glanced at Calvin, ignoring the stunned looks from the others.

"But luckily, darling, you showed up just in time—so they didn’t get the chance."

With her naturally soft, delicate features—typical of southern beauty—Tiffany looked genuinely pitiful in that moment.

Calvin narrowed his long, sharp eyes slightly.

"How would you like to punish them?"

Watching the growing horror on the women’s faces, Tiffany smirked inwardly.

"Can I really decide anything?"

"Mhm."

His reply was indifferent.

"Do whatever you want."

The words stung the wealthy socialites like a slap to the face, their pride and dignity crumbling under the weight of such blatant dismissal.

After all, being scorned by a man like Calvin—whose lineage, looks, and influence were nothing short of extraordinary—was a humiliation no woman could easily swallow.

"Mr. Calvin, that’s not how things really are," the fair-haired woman protested, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her voice trembling with indignation.

"You’re only listening to her side of the story. Isn’t that favoritism?"

A faint smirk curled at the corner of Calvin’s lips, his striking eyes glinting with icy detachment.

"This isn’t favoritism," he countered smoothly.

"It’s biased."

Not far away.

"That gown suits you perfectly," Camilla remarked as she approached Sandra, her serene yet discerning gaze sweeping over the other woman’s figure.

"My taste, as always, is impeccable."