Playing the Villainess, He Fell for Me

Simon Lockwood had taught her this.

Having experienced what true affection was like, Howard Thorne’s impure feelings paled in comparison.

Joanna Kennedy believed Howard Thorne did like her to some extent, but that affection was insignificant—at least, not enough to make him devoted.

Perhaps it was because she was pretty enough to catch his eye, or perhaps it was because she didn’t like him, which stoked his male desire for conquest.

Over time, Howard Thorne had come to mistake this desire for conquest as actual affection.

Someone knocked on the door, a reminder that time was running short. Howard Thorne rose slowly, his face somewhat pale. He seemed dazed as he walked out, completely ignoring his subordinate’s greeting.

’What happened to him? He looks completely crestfallen.’

Mindy Morgan hurried in, breathing a sigh of relief only after seeing Joanna was unharmed. She lowered her voice, "What did you say to the boss?"

’That familiar, accusatory tone... It’s as if I’m the one who bullied Howard Thorne,’

Joanna felt a little exasperated. "What do you mean, what did I say to him? Why don’t you ask him what he said to me?"

"What did the boss say to you?" Mindy Morgan switched gears instantly.

Joanna scoffed. "I’m not telling you."

Mindy Morgan: "..." ’Fine, fine, whatever.’

And to think she’d been worried sick outside, afraid the boss would lose control and do something to Joanna right there in the dressing room. But in the end...

She had underestimated Joanna and overestimated the boss.

Due to the twenty-minute delay, Joanna didn’t rest any longer. She finished her makeup and, with her assistant’s help, slipped into her evening gown.

The gown was a special delivery from the brand—a global premiere, a one-of-a-kind haute couture creation. It was a long, deep red dress that hugged her curves all the way down to a floor-sweeping hem woven with fine gold threads, creating the stunning impression of a phoenix rising from the ashes.

A long gown of this particular shade of red is difficult to pull off; on the wrong person, it could easily look gaudy.

Joanna’s skin was fair, and the deep red made it appear even more delicate and lustrous, like a snow-white pearl. Her lovely, almond-shaped eyes were not heavily made up; they were clear and bright, adding an unexpected touch of pure innocence to her look.

She transformed the potentially gaudy red dress, imbuing it with a sense of spirited, playful charm. Simply by standing there, she could effortlessly capture everyone’s attention.

’The aura of a top-tier celebrity. A born superstar.’

This was the only thought in Mindy Morgan’s mind, and she knew everyone else in the room was thinking the exact same thing.

Joanna was just too brilliant. No wonder she’d reached her current position without having to play dirty. Someone this dazzling could never be held down.

As a globally renowned luxury brand, Aethel’s gala was extraordinarily grand. Outside, hundreds of media outlets had gathered, forming a massive, sprawling crowd.

Beyond the yellow police line, fans waved signs and light sticks, screaming their idols’ names in excitement. The crowd seemed endless, so large that the ring of black-uniformed security guards struggled to contain them.

"AHHHHH, JOANNA, YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!"

"Joanna, Joanna!!"

"Baby! You need to wear more! Don’t catch a cold!"

A cacophony of shouts filled the air, punctuated by the ceaseless CLICK-CLACK of camera shutters. Every snap of a photo brought a blinding flash of light. Although Joanna had long grown accustomed to it, she couldn’t help but feel her eyes begin to dry out.

Someone’s voice rose above the din, shouting, "Jojo’s hubby!" It was loud enough for Joanna to hear, and the odd nickname made her chuckle. Her already radiant face bloomed like a rose, breathtakingly lovely and vibrant.

The crowd fell silent for a few seconds, then erupted into an even more frantic frenzy of screams. The photographers, sensing a perfect shot, began snapping pictures with renewed vigor.

"Ms. Joanna, look over here!"

"Over here, over here! To your right! Look to the right!"

’Getting good photos is crucial.’ She was the brand ambassador, so she couldn’t leave the red carpet too quickly. Hearing the calls, Joanna obligingly turned to her right.

She’d barely held the pose for a second when several photographers shouted:

"Ms. Joanna, a profile shot! Turn to the side!"

Her smile unwavering, Joanna turned to the side, faced the cameras, and struck several more poses. ’That should be enough time,’ she calculated. ’I can’t hold up the artists behind me.’ She waved to the fans on the sidelines and, to the sound of thunderous screams, entered the venue.

If the exterior—with its velvet red carpet and golden, light-draped trees—was magnificent, the interior was even more so. Melodious music filled the air as socialites and celebrities in glamorous attire mingled and toasted, creating a scene of pure, unadulterated opulence.

Joanna Kennedy followed a representative from the brand and was introduced to Aethel’s founder, Lucia Spencer.

The woman was impeccably maintained; though nearly fifty, she looked to be in her early thirties. She was sharply dressed and exuded the dignified, noble aura unique to those in positions of power.

"Ms. Spencer, hello. I’m Joanna Kennedy." Joanna gave a slight bow and politely extended her hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

The two simple sentences were polite yet humble, with no hint of flattery or the restless impatience common among young people in the world of fame and fortune. Lucia Spencer was very pleased with her brand ambassador. "Miss Kennedy, you are truly exceptional. It is Aethel’s good fortune to have you as our representative."

"You’re too kind, Ms. Spencer."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before someone hurried over and whispered something in Lucia’s ear. Joanna tactfully took a step back, not meaning to eavesdrop, but she still caught fragments like "the young miss," "trying to sneak out," and "wants to go home."

"Nonsense. If she goes home, who will take care of her?" Lucia Spencer’s expression was stern. "Keep a close eye on her. Don’t let her run off and cause trouble."

"Yes, ma’am."

After the person left, Joanna tactfully refrained from asking any questions. However, Lucia Spencer brought it up herself. "My daughter. She’s used to being willful. I hope she hasn’t made a scene, Miss Kennedy."

"Not at all," Joanna said with a smile, not pressing the matter.

’She’s talking about her own daughter, it would be inappropriate for me to comment.’ Without missing a beat, she skillfully steered the conversation back to the evening’s gala.

After a few more minutes of small talk, the two parted ways. As the host, Lucia Spencer had much to attend to, and as the brand ambassador, Joanna needed to greet the other executives from Aethel.

This sort of fashion gala attracted not only celebrities and artists, but also prominent figures from various fields and the wealthy wives and daughters of high society. The banquet hadn’t officially started yet, so people gathered in small groups, chatting amongst themselves.

In the dimly lit venue, crystal chandeliers cast a soft, shimmering glow that made the guests appear all the more stunning and elegant. In such an environment, a certain crimson dress was especially conspicuous.

"Hey, who’s that? I don’t think I’ve seen her before," a young heiress asked her friend.

Her friend followed her gaze and immediately spotted the eye-catching red dress. The woman’s back was stunning enough, but when she turned, the beautiful face revealed under the crystal light was simply breathtaking.

Those signature almond-shaped eyes, that bright and lovely face—anyone who watched television would recognize her.

The friend grew excited. "That’s Joanna Kennedy!"

"The A-list superstar! I’m totally going to get her autograph later!"

Her voice was a little too loud, catching the attention of several other wealthy young women nearby. Michelle Pemberton glanced over and saw the girl in the distance—a slender, graceful figure, so beautiful that Michelle felt plain by comparison.

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