Flash Marriage: Pampered by Mr.Bigshot

Chapter 218: Chapter 217: Nia Mitchell, where is your husband?

”Nia Mitchell, standing here isn’t a wise move if you’re trying to avoid the hassles of the party and spend a few hours in peace.”

Shirley Grant casually picked up a glass of red wine and stood before Nia Mitchell.

Nia Mitchell looked up, finding it somewhat hard to believe that Shirley Grant would come over and say such things to her. Had she forgotten to take her medication today?

”Thank you for your advice. I’ll move right away.”

Detecting no ill will in her words, Nia Mitchell responded graciously.

After speaking, Shirley Grant left. She, too, wanted to find a quiet place to pass the next few hours. Turning, she glanced at Alan Morgan in the crowd, a hundred indescribable feelings stirring within her.

Watching Shirley Grant leave, Diana Hill, with a curious expression, moved a small step closer to Nia Mitchell. ”That’s strange. What’s wrong with Secretary Grant today?”

Nia Mitchell shook her head, indicating she didn’t understand, but she had an inkling that it probably had something to do with Alan Morgan.

”Let’s not talk about this. I also think standing here makes us too conspicuous. Let’s move.” Although this wasn’t the center of the banquet, it was, after all, the Grand Gate Entrance.

”Now that Secretary Grant mentions it, I agree, this place doesn’t feel safe. Let’s go, quickly.”

Just as the two were about to leave, Phoebe Walker appeared. How did she find us here? Nia wondered.

”Nia Mitchell, I thought you really wouldn’t come.”

Phoebe Walker approached with a smirk, dressed in a striking red evening gown and towering high heels. Today, her makeup was heavy and elaborate, and even her nails were freshly manicured.

”You invited me so sincerely, why wouldn’t I come?” Nia Mitchell retorted. I should have left sooner, she thought.

”True. Where is your husband? I’d like to meet him too.”

Phoebe Walker glanced around proudly but didn’t spot anyone suspicious. Could she really have come alone? she wondered.

”My husband is a bit busy, so I came alone,” Nia replied with a smile, unfazed by the sarcasm.

Phoebe Walker approached, letting out a cold laugh, her face showing an ’I-knew-it-all-along’ expression. ”Your husband is certainly trusting of you. You know, there are many influential people here. If you managed to hook one, you wouldn’t have to be a pitiful little secretary in the Secretary Department anymore.” By then, wouldn’t she be living the life people like them dream of? She was giving her a stepping stone. Using one’s body to get money—that was a kind of labor too.

”Thank you for the tip, but I don’t think I need it. What makes you think I don’t have money?”

Nia Mitchell stared at Phoebe Walker in disbelief. Am I wearing a sign that says ’I’m poor’?

Phoebe Walker clicked her tongue, feigning surprise. Does one even need to guess with her type? She’s the epitome of poor.

”Don’t tell me you’re actually rich now? Haha, Nia Mitchell, I never realized you were this amusing!”

Phoebe Walker laughed for a moment then casually placed her empty wine glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

”Phoebe Walker, what do you think of my dress?”

Nia Mitchell remained silent for a moment. Then, she remembered her dress. According to Maxwell Peary, it was custom-made by some master designer in Milan. Regardless, it’s an incredibly impressive dress, the kind ordinary people can’t buy. And it’s the only one of its kind in the world—a unique, limited edition.