Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 118

Mrs. Fontaine was one of Professor Carstairs' favorite customers at this boutique—a VIP, no less. The sales assistant, who owed a good chunk of her commission to Mrs. Fontaine's lavish spending, wouldn't dare show her anything short of deference.

She fussed over Mrs. Fontaine, serving her tea and making sure she had the plushest seat.

"Dr. Sterling, how much do you even make in a month?" Mrs. Fontaine sneered, stroking the LV handbag in her lap, her disdain barely concealed. "Honestly, what are you doing in a place like this? Young people these days—don't let vanity get the better of you. If you can't afford it, don't embarrass yourself."

Charlotte let out a laugh. "So Mrs. Fontaine, spending the money your husband embezzled to spoil yourself isn't vanity? I wonder how Director Fontaine, sitting in his cell, would feel if he knew how you're blowing his dirty money."

"You little witch! How dare you bring that up!"

Just the mention of it sent Mrs. Fontaine into a rage.

Mrs. Rayburn glared at her, snorting, "You old hag. Threaten my daughter again and you'll get what's coming to you."

"Who are you calling old, you wrinkled cow?"

Mrs. Rayburn ducked behind Charlotte, poked her head out, and snickered, "Oh, I'm a wrinkled cow? Who's the real old hag here?"

"You—" Mrs. Fontaine started, but then the sales assistant gave her a discreet nudge. She forced herself to swallow her anger, putting on the air of someone rising above the squabble. "No wonder—birds of a feather flock together. Trash attracts trash."

Charlotte stepped closer, her voice laced with meaning. "Exactly. Birds of a feather. Otherwise, why would Mrs. Fontaine stoop to such lows for someone like Tricia?"

Mrs. Fontaine stiffened, averting her gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Especially when it comes to Conrad. You're quite familiar with him, aren't you?"

Charlotte's gaze pinned her in place, making every twitch of Mrs. Fontaine's face betray the truth.

Clutching her handbag tighter, Mrs. Fontaine lifted her chin and refused to admit anything. "Who's Conrad? Never heard of him. You're delusional."

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