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“Besides, I never said I was Lohill’s disciple. It’s the teachers at school who claimed that Miss Lohill admired my talent and wanted to guide me. Somehow, this news spread, and my classmates came to congratulate me on becoming Miss Lohill’s disciple. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t, but they just said I was being humble, and I really couldn’t argue. ”

Xaviera sniffed, tears glazing her eyes: “If I’d been able to predict this, I would’ve definitely explained everything to my classmates one by one, no matter how tedious it would’ve been, clarifying that Miss Lohill hadn’t taken me as her disciple.”

Xaviera portrayed herself as the perfect victim—the teachers at the school misled her into thinking she was Lohill’s disciple, her classmates spread the rumors, she tried to explain, but they refused to listen, leading to the current situation.

“Yeah, in this matter, Mag is also a victim,” Rose sighed. “It’s just that Xaviera doesn’t seem to think so. I’m afraid she’s already distanced herself from us. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kept such big news as being Lohill’s disciple a secret. If she didn’t tell us because she minded our backgrounds, it’s still understandable, but hiding it from even Derek…”

Didn’t she treat Derek Evans as family?

Derek’s face darkened instantly, and Rose watched him with a subtle smile. The fact that QAdera was an internationally-acclaimed designer indeed surprised Rose. She was afraid that Derek might think Xaviera’s identity still had some value to be exploited, and could bring her back into the fold. If that happened, she’d be infuriated.

Would doing so bring further assistance or bring an enemy into their midst?

Moore Mamet’s relaxed brows tightened again: “Aunt Rose’s words make perfect sense. The Xaviera we know now isn’t the Xaviera we used to know; she has changed too much.”

Overhearing them discussing Xaviera again, Xaviera couldn’t help biting her lip: “But Dad, Moore, the top priority now is those rumors out there. They say I’m scheming and vain, but it’s not my fault! It’s my sister who deliberately misguided me… Of course, I don’t mean to blame her. I just think the two of us shouldn’t have ended up like this. Can’t we just work things out by talking?”

Moore Mamet comforted her with a touch: “Don’t worry, Mag. This isn’t your fault. It’s a trap set by Xaviera. You’re too pure and kindhearted to outplay her.” After saying this, he turned to Derek again: “Uncle, we need to contact Black

Tide as soon as possible. Some matters can be easily resolved if they step in.”

Moved, Xaviera leaned against Moore’s shoulder: “Thank you, Moore. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Moore enjoyed Xaviera’s utter reliance on him. However, in a corner he couldn’t see, Xaviera and Rose exchanged a silent look. Get Black Tide involved? They hadn’t forgotten the last time they’d had to pay the steep price for that.

Xaviera and Rose came up with an excellent plan: even without Black Tide, they could solve the current problem. That bitch Xaviera thought she could have it easy just by being Lohill’s disciple? They had ways to ruin her reputation!

The next day, Xaviera grabbed her bag, prepared to leave for classes at Libanan University. Her identity had been exposed, so she didn’t need to give lectures online. The school had also contacted her, saying the students wanted her to explain the course in person.

Xaviera couldn’t refuse, so she had to report to the school on time.

Caleb Mamet knew Xaviera was leaving, so he motioned to the driver, James, to send her safely to school.

“Ma’am, we’ve arrived,” said James.

Driver James parked the car in front of Libanan University, and Xaviera thanked him. As she got out of the car, she keenly noticed a flash of light behind a tree on the opposite side of the street.

Half an hour later, an anonymous post appeared on Libanan University’s official forum.

—Shocking! A famous fashion designer is actually a mistress kept by an old man! Such a person is not fit to be a teacher!

Below the post were pictures of Xaviera getting out of a luxury car, driven by an older man. The car wasn’t something just anyone with money could buy.

The old driver was too far away to see his face clearly, but you could see silver streaks in his hair, suggesting he was probably around forty or fifty years old. His suit was a tailor-made designer piece that ordinary people couldn’t afford.

In just a few minutes, the post had more than a hundred replies.

[Huh? Isn’t this Miss Lohill? Would someone of her status really need to be kept?]

[Designers are people too, and to maintain her prestige, Miss Lohill produces very few design sketches in a year. It’s not entirely impossible that she might face financial difficulties.]

[But this old man looks ugly and outdated. The only thing he seems to have is money. There must be richer people out there, so Miss Lohill doesn’t have to be with him.]

[Maybe Miss Lohill has heavier tastes, haha..]