Chapter 567:
Khloe raised a brow, feigning indifference as she turned slightly, her voice light. “Fine. If I'm not welcome, Ill just
leave.”
As the words left her lips, Naomi, who had been silent until now, snapped, “Stop right there! My birthday
celebration isn’t scasual gathering where you cand go as you please. Someone, stop her!”
In an instant, a dozen bodyguards appeared from the shadows of the garden, sealing off the exit entirely.
Khloe’s brow arched slightly as her eyes swept over them. So, this was Sheri’s plan—a trap, perhaps, or an
ambush?
While Khloe was mulling it over, Naomi strode forward with swaggering arrogance. Her chin tilted upward, and
her lips curled into a sneer. “Khloe, weren't you so full of yourself just now? Why the sudden urge to leave before
anything’s even happened?”
Naomi’s eyes locked onto Khloe, cold and dripping with disdain. “You had the audacity to take the Dayton
family’s treasure! Who do you think you are, Khloe? You don’t deserve it! Or is it because Henrik isn’t around that
your arrogance has suddenly vanished?”
Khloe remained composed, meeting Naomi’s words with an icy calm. “So, what exactly is it you want? And let
such a refined background, resorting to these base and disgraceful tactics. Aren't you worried people will start
saying you are ill-bred?”
Naomi's face twisted in fury, her glare sharp enough to cut. “Khloe, you're a disgrace to women! What gives you
the right to judge me?” Her voice barely faded before she pulled a pistol from inside her jacket. The cold steel
gleamed in the dim garden light as she aimed it at Khloe. Her tone grew sharper, dripping with arrogance.
“You're staying right here. If you dare make a move to leave, I'll shoot you. With my family’s influence, I could
shoot you dead, and not a single soul would dare speak against me!”
Naomi’s confidence wasn’t unfounded. As a member of the Dayton family, her father held a prominent position
in Congress, wielding enough power to make even the highest-ranking officials hesitate.
Before Khloe could respond, her personal bodyguard, Gloria, stepped forward, placing herself between Khloe and
Naomi. Her stance was firm, her expression sharp with warning. “No matter how powerful your family may be, if
you harm Miss Evans, Mr. Watson will never let you get away with it.”
Naomi’s lips curled into a sneer, her eyes blazing with derision. “And who do you think you are to stop me?”
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As Naomi spoke, she grabbed the champagne glass from the table behind her. She raised it high, clearly
intending to drench Gloria with it. Her eyes gleamed with cruelty.
She hadn't aimed for Khloe, knowing that attacking her in public would create complications. But Gloria, just a
bodyguard in her mind, was fair game—someone she could target without fear of backlash. But just as Naomi
lifted her hand, Khloe’s grip cdown firmly, effortlessly forcing it back down.
Naomi hadn't expected Khloe to retaliate, much less with such force. She struggled to lift her hand but found it
pinned in place. Her teeth clenched in frustration, but her anger faltered as she met Khloe’s gaze. Khloe’'s
flawless face was an icy mask of indifference, her piercing eyes devoid of warmth. A chilling aura radiated from
her, exuding unshakable strength.
In that moment, Khloe seemed otherworldly—a figure risen from the depths of darkness, her presence charged
with a suffocating intensity and an unmistakable intent to kill.
Naomi’s expression twisted into fear as her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Each rapid pulse seemed louder,
more violent, until it stole her breath away, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.
Khloe’s voice was cold and unyielding. “You dare lay a hand on my people? Are you prepared to face the
consequences?”
Naomi instinctively stepped back, her body betraying her fear. But as the realization struck that she had flinched
at Khloe’s words, her fear turned to fury. Her lips curled in disdain as she spat, “Who do you think you are? Just a
pathetic social climber who sells herself and clings to men for survival! How dare you look atlike that? You'll
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmregret this!”
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