Rachel Ward and the others quickly chimed in to lecture Theresa.
"Theresa, if you wanted to come party, you need to show Lorna some respect. Stop spouting this delusional nonsense."
"Yeah, if you're not going to chill out, then leave. Don't ruin the vibe. We're here to have a good time."
"We know you're jealous of Lorna. She's nice enough not to hold a grudge, so don't push your luck!"
Rachel stepped forward and said sternly, "Theresa, as your superior, I am ordering you to leave right now!"
"Superior?" Theresa scoffed. "We aren't at the office. This is my home! You are the ones who need to leave!"
"Hahaha!" Charles laughed hysterically. "Theresa, you're a psycho. You keep saying this is your house. Where's your proof?"
Lorna hurried over, shooting Theresa a condescending glare. "Theresa, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm not going to stoop to your level. Just leave. My house doesn't welcome you. Don't make me call security."
"Go ahead. Call them," Theresa challenged, her eyes locked onto Lorna. "Let's see whose orders the security guards actually follow."
A spike of pure terror pierced Lorna's chest. Seeing Theresa's absolute calm, Lorna felt her confidence waver.
"Lorna, hurry up and call that manager guy to throw her out. Just looking at her makes me sick," Charles egged her on.
Lorna stayed rigidly silent.
Theresa stepped fully into the room, staring Lorna down. "Lorna, you claim this is your house. Fine. Tell me exactly where the 1982 Vintage Reserve is kept. If you can find it right now, I'll walk out that door."
Years ago, when her father acquired that specific bottle, Theresa had asked if wine got better with age.
When he said yes, she had personally hidden it in the living room for safekeeping.
Lorna had only lived there a few months; there was zero chance she knew about it.

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