Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 152: That Thing

"Miss Celine, we can arrange a private session for you in another lounge—"

"I like this lounge," Celine interrupted coolly, eyes still locked onto Ephyra.

The challenge in her gaze was unmistakable.

Ephyra’s smirk didn’t waver, but there was an unmistakable gleam in her blue eyes now—a dangerous, lazy sort of amusement.

She set down her handbag with deliberate ease, lacing her fingers together as she leaned forward slightly, her posture still relaxed but her presence shifting into something sharper.

"Oh?" she mused. "You do?"

"Yes, and I want you to get out."

The boutique manager, meanwhile, looked one wrong word away from collapsing

Ephyra laughed—a soft, velvety sound that sent a ripple through the room. It wasn’t loud, nor was it forced. It was the kind of laugh that made people pause, unsure if they should feel insulted or unsettled.

Celine’s brows twitched ever so slightly, and the boutique manager visibly tensed.

Ephyra let the laugh linger before finally meeting Celine’s gaze again, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You want me to leave?" she repeated, as if the very idea was ridiculous. She tilted her head slightly, considering the demand as though it was an amusing riddle.

Jania, now fully invested, crossed her arms and smirked. "And why would she do that? Because you stomped in here throwing a tantrum?"

Celine shot Jania a sharp glare before refocusing on Ephyra. "Because this is my lounge."

Ephyra arched a brow. "Your lounge?"

"I shop here regularly. The staff knows me, the manager prioritizes me, and when I walk in, I expect to be accommodated immediately," Celine said, her voice smooth but edged with barely contained irritation. "I don’t see why I should share the space with someone... like you."

The insult hung in the air, but Ephyra didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "It’s so tragic when the world stops catering to your every whim, isn’t it?" she mused, resting her chin on the back of her hand. "I can see how that must be devastating for you."

Jania chuckled. "Poor thing. Must be the first time she’s had to wait in her life."

The boutique manager, now caught between a brewing war, cleared her throat anxiously. "Miss Celine, this is a private lounge, but it can only be reserved for a single client. Both of you are VIP customers and there are other private spaces–"

"Are you really comparing me to her?" Celine cut in, looking downright offended. "She’s a walking scandal! I don’t know why you’re even allowing her in here."

She inhaled sharply, her delicate features twisting into a mask of indignation before she strode toward the manager, heels clicking with each step. Her eyes, now dark with barely restrained fury, locked onto the woman like a predator closing in on its prey.

"I do not want another lounge," she said slowly, enunciating each word. "I want this one. It is the best lounge, and I only settle for the best."

The manager, though visibly tense, maintained a professional poise. "I’m sorry, Miss Celine, but I cannot grant your request. Not only was this lounge reserved beforehand, but our guests here hold the highest membership tier—one that surpasses even yours. I cannot, in good conscience, disregard our top customers to accommodate you."

Celine’s expression darkened as if the words had personally slapped her. She took a step back, blinking in disbelief before letting out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice dripping with incredulity. "Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?" Her tone turned venomous, her nails digging into her palms as she glared at the manager and staff.

"You just refused me. Do you understand what that means?" She took another step closer, her voice dropping into a hush. "It means you’ve just offended a member of the Carver family." She let the name hang in the air, watching the staff’s reactions with cold amusement.

The boutique employees stiffened, exchanging nervous glances, but the manager stood firm.

Celine smirked, sensing their hesitation. "I assume you do know who my grandfather is?" she continued, her voice silk-smooth but laced with an unmistakable threat. "With one call, I could turn this entire boutique into nothing."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Jania arched a brow but otherwise looked unimpressed, while Ephyra, still lounging in her seat, barely reacted. She merely rolled her eyes, idly adjusting the sleeve of her fur coat.

Celine’s nostrils flared at the lack of response. "Did you not hear me?" she snapped, her gaze snapping back to the manager. "I said—"

"I heard you, Miss Celine," the manager interjected, her voice calm but unwavering. "And I still cannot grant your request."

Celine’s lips parted, momentarily at a loss for words. For the first time since she had stormed in, she looked genuinely taken aback.

Alright then, you think I’m joking, don’t you?" Celine’s voice was icy as she yanked her phone from her handbag. Without missing a beat, she turned and smacked her bodyguard’s chest with the same bag, making him flinch slightly.

She tapped a few times on her screen before bringing the phone to her ear, her expression shifting into one of carefully crafted distress.

Meanwhile, the manager subtly turned to two of her colleagues, whispering quick instructions. They exchanged hesitant glances before nodding and slipping out of the room.

"Grandpa," Celine began, her voice sweet yet laced with indignation. "Can you believe what just happened at the boutique?" She let out a sharp, frustrated sigh, ensuring the entire room heard her.

"They made me wait. For twenty whole minutes. And when I finally got inside, they refused to let me use my usual lounge. Do you know why?" Her tone turned wounded, as if she were recounting a grave injustice. "Because they gave it to someone else—some nobody who doesn’t belong here. And when I rightfully asked them to fix their mistake, they had the audacity to talk back to me. They even insulted me, Grandpa. Me!"

She paused dramatically, as if expecting immediate outrage on the other end of the line. Her grip on the phone tightened, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against the device.

Ephyra, still seated, sighed in boredom, propping her chin on her hand. "She really does love the sound of her own voice, doesn’t she?" she murmured, just loud enough for Jania to hear.

Jania smirked. "It’s almost impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone throw a tantrum with such... precision."

Celine’s jaw tightened at their barely concealed amusement, but she forced herself to focus on the phone call. "The person? It’s that pathetic girl who aired her family’s dirty laundry at the masquerade ball—the one meant to celebrate Aelion’s and Latham’s partnership."

"Yes, can you believe it? That miserable creature dared to talk back to me!" Her voice rose, the shrill edge cutting through the room.

She cast a scornful glance at Ephyra, a sneer twisting her lips. "I don’t know how she got in here, and frankly, I don’t care," she continued, her voice sharp. "Maybe she climbed into some man’s bed to get what she wants, who knows?" Her eyes raked over Ephyra with open disdain.

"Yes, Grandpa," she said, her tone suddenly syrupy with false sweetness. "I know you have influence. That’s why I called. I want this dealt with—immediately."

Celine’s frown deepened. "The manager? But—"

A pause. Then, with a sharp inhale, she huffed, "Fine." She turned abruptly and thrust the phone into the manager’s hands, her expression a mask of barely concealed irritation.

The manager took the device with a composed nod, pressing it to her ear. "Good day, sir. My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding."

A brief silence followed as she listened to the voice on the other end. Her expression remained professional, but there was a steely resolve in her eyes as she responded, "I understand your concerns, sir. However, Miss Celine’s membership status is below that of Miss Ephyra’s."

She paused again, her gaze flickering toward Celine, who stood rigid with thinly veiled impatience.

"With all due respect, sir," the manager continued smoothly, "I cannot fulfill your request. Not only would it go against our boutique’s policies regarding client priority, but it would also risk offending Mr. Aelion."

The moment the words left her lips, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Celine’s entire body went taut, her expression momentarily frozen before twisting into one of disbelief. "What the hell did she just say?" she snapped, her voice sharp with outrage.

She turned on the manager, eyes blazing. "What does that thing have to do with the Aelion name?"

The boutique staff shifted uneasily, sensing the dangerous shift in the atmosphere.

Ephyra, who had been silent up until now, finally moved. She leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other as she studied Celine with a slow, knowing smile.

"Oh, darling," she drawled, tapping a manicured finger against her knee. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"