Ignatius Leclair's handsome face grew slightly stern. What could possibly happen during a banquet at the Leclair Estate?
The man stood up, his steps steady as he left the tea room. Outside the side hall, seven or eight young heirs of prominent families had gathered. Melody Cloud had fallen to the ground, and a large hexagonal red camellia planter lay shattered on the floor. Leah Squire was being blocked by several young ladies of high standing, who clamored angrily, "You think you can just leave after injuring someone?"
"That huge flower pot came crashing down—were you trying to end Melody's life?"
"How can there be such a vicious woman?"
Leah's cold, exquisite face was clouded with frost as she sharply retorted, "Get out of my way." She had only come here to look for Delphine, but before she could even step into the side hall, she was accosted by these absurd women. Who the hell knew who had thrown the pot?
