Chapter 799

"Get your hands off him!" Arabella shrieked, grabbing a fistful of the bunny girl's platinum blonde locks and yanking her violently off Julian's lap.

The girl let out a piercing scream as she crashed onto the marble floor.

But she wasn't about to take this lying down. Scrambling up, she shot Arabella a venomous glare, crimson lips curling in fury. "You little bitch! Who do you think you're dealing with?"

Like a feral cat, she launched herself forward, razor-sharp nails slicing across Arabella's porcelain cheek, leaving three angry red trails.

"You ruined my face!" Arabella howled, clutching her stinging cheek. Blood seeped between her fingers. "I'll make you pay for this!"

The two women became a whirlwind of flying hair and scratching nails, knocking over crystal glasses that shattered across the VIP lounge. Champagne sprayed like golden rain.

The heirs of Willowbrook's elite families erupted in cheers, forming a raucous circle around the catfight.

"Julian! Two stunners brawling over you!"

"Place your bets, gentlemen! I've got fifty grand on Arabella!"

"The bunny's got claws - my money's on her!"

Their laughter and jeers filled the air as the women rolled across the floor, tearing at each other's designer dresses.

Julian merely lounged against the velvet couch, swirling his whiskey with disinterest. His bored gaze drifted past the spectacle, scanning the pulsating dance floor below.

Then he saw her.

Rosalind moved with liquid grace between the strobe lights, her emerald silk dress clinging to every curve as she danced with Lillian. Every step was poetry, every sway hypnotic. The crowd had instinctively formed a circle around them, men's eyes glued to the mesmerizing pair.

She was radiant. Untouchable.

Julian's whiskey glass hit the table with a sharp crack as he stood abruptly.

"Julian? Where—"

Without a word, he shoved past his confused friends, his entire being laser-focused on the dance floor.

"Hey! Your birthday party—"

"Fuck off," Julian growled without breaking stride.

The heirs exchanged bewildered glances.

"What's gotten into him?"

"Damn. Arabella and Bunny are still going at it like animals, and he just walks away?"

Julian didn't hear them. His entire world had narrowed to the vision in green silk.

Memories flashed—Rosalind at sixteen, laughing under willow trees. Rosalind at eighteen, blushing when he'd pinned her against his sports car.

Now, bathed in the club's ethereal lighting, she was a goddess among mortals. That effortless elegance, the quiet confidence of true aristocracy—it made the Arabellas of the world look like cheap imitations.

For three years, Rosalind had stayed out of society's spotlight, quietly building her couture empire. And the more she ignored him, the more she haunted him.

As he watched her hips sway to the rhythm, something primal stirred in his gut.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Julian stalked forward, his eyes never leaving his prey.