Chapter 359: The Wounded Pride Of An Heiress!

Naomi stepped out of the gilded boutique arcade, a small pastel-pink bakery bag swinging from her wrist.

The moment she spotted Luca across the courtyard, her face lit up. She hurried toward him, seemingly oblivious to the crowd of high-fashion shoppers surrounding them.

"Luca! Did you get one for me, or did you just hoard all the espresso for yourself?"

Her cheerful voice stood out against the pretentious atmosphere of Place Vend?me.

Chloé de Valois, still standing beside Luca’s table with her rejected gold-leaf business card near the silver teaspoon, stiffened.

Luca didn’t even glance in her direction. As soon as Naomi approached, the cool indifference in his eyes melted into an affectionate smile.

"I ordered an espresso for you, too." He gestured toward the fresh cup on the marble table. "And before you ask, yes, I told them to add extra milk."

[Ding!]

[Host has spent $24 on Naomi Monroe!]

[Legendary Critical Hit Triggered!]

[System Reward: Congratulations! Host has been awarded 100% Ownership of Paris Sparks Entertainment!]

Luca’s eyebrow twitched.

’Twenty-four dollars for coffee and a croissant, and the system hands me an entire French entertainment agency? The rewards in Europe are practically being given away.’

Naomi slipped her arm through his, leaning comfortably against his shoulder.

"You’re the best!" she giggled.

She opened the bakery bag and pulled out a delicate pastel-green macaron, holding it up to his lips.

"Try this! It’s pistachio, just like you wanted. The baker said it was made only five minutes ago."

Luca leaned forward and took a bite directly from her fingers.

"Mmm. Not bad. A little too sweet, but I’ll forgive it."

He lifted his hand and gently brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Naomi’s cheeks turned pink, and her smile widened.

Meanwhile, Chloé remained beside the table, completely forgotten.

Her manicured fingers trembled. The business card she’d presented with such confidence now lay abandoned on the marble, looking like a discarded receipt. Neither Luca nor Naomi seemed remotely concerned about her presence.

Chloé’s gaze shifted toward Naomi, narrowing with growing indignation.

The girl was undeniably beautiful. Her porcelain skin had a natural glow, her amber eyes were bright, and her youthful elegance seemed effortless. Unlike the women Chloé usually encountered in aristocratic circles, Naomi carried none of the stiffness, artificial enhancements, or rehearsed expressions that often accompanied their polished appearances.

For a brief moment, Chloé experienced an unfamiliar sting of humiliation.

’She’s actually prettier than me?’

The thought was unbearable.

Her towering narcissism quickly pushed the feeling aside.

’Impossible! She’s just some foreign girl wearing a casual trench coat! What lineage does she have? What centuries-old estate belongs to her family? She’s not even near my class’

Then, suddenly, something clicked.

Last summer, during the European gaming showcase, one of France’s most famous national football stars had participated in a viral interview with a female streamer. Chloé remembered the man well. She’d tried flirting with him at a VIP lounge in Monaco, but couldn’t get past his massive bodyguards.

The interview had dominated French social media for weeks.

’Wait. It’s her!’

Chloé’s lips curled into a contemptuous sneer.

’That internet girl. The streamer!’

The humiliation she’d felt moments earlier quickly transformed into bitter resentment.

Being rejected by a man was insulting enough. But being rejected in favor of an ordinary online entertainer instead of the sole heiress of Maison de Valois?

To Chloé, that was an unforgivable insult.

’You actually rejected a daughter of Maison de Valois for some internet plaything?’

She hissed the words under her breath in rapid French, her nails digging into her handbag.

’Uncultured swine. Both of you.’

Luca casually rose from his chair and tossed a few euro notes onto the table to settle the bill. He wrapped an arm around Naomi’s waist and guided her toward the waiting Maybach.

"Let’s go, wife. We still have half of Paris to explore before dinner."

"Okay!" Naomi chirped, happily finishing the rest of her pistachio macaron.

Behind them, Chloé quietly pulled out her phone.

With practiced stealth, she raised the camera and framed Luca’s sharp profile just as the chauffeur opened the sedan’s heavy door.

Click.

The shutter was barely audible beneath the distant rumble of traffic. To Luca’s enhanced senses, however, it sounded as clear as a firecracker.

He caught the angle of her phone from the corner of his eye and noticed the venomous glare on her face.

He didn’t stop or turn around.

A faint, lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he helped Naomi into the car.

’Taking pictures of my profile? Is she planning to hang it on her wall and throw darts at it? Rich brats really are the same everywhere.’

He dismissed the incident as nothing more than a spoiled socialite nursing a bruised ego and climbed into the Maybach beside Naomi.

The doors closed with a heavy, soundproof thud. Moments later, the luxury sedan pulled smoothly into the traffic around Place Vend?me.

Left behind on the cobblestones, Chloé watched the departing taillights with a face twisted by rage.

Her business card remained untouched on the café table.

Trembling with wounded pride, she spun around and marched toward her purple Lamborghini. The valet hurried to hand her the keys, but she snatched them without a word and slammed the scissor door shut.

Once inside, she opened the photograph she’d just taken and dialed a direct number.

The call connected on the second ring.

"Mademoiselle de Valois?" a smooth, professional voice answered.

"Pierre," Chloé snapped, her voice trembling with malice as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "I’m sending you a photograph."

"Of course. Who is he?"

"A crude, aggressive foreigner," she spat, staring at Luca’s image on her screen. "He made inappropriate physical advances toward me outside Place Vend?me and insulted the de Valois name."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I want his face all over Chirper. Frame him as a predator targeting Parisian women. By tomorrow morning, his reputation should be completely destroyed."