Fiona's champagne had long been spilled, crashing onto the floor with a thud, the warm yellow liquid spreading across the floor.
And her intention this time was clearly not to splash champagne on people.
Her face was filled with shock and helplessness, as if losing her balance, her entire body directly falling towards Cecilia,
"Ah! Sorry, sorry, I twisted my ankle—"
Amidst her fearful words, her delicate hands clearly aimed to grab Cecilia's dress.
In an instant, the sound of fabric ripping violently echoed throughout the hall.
...
That sound...
Could someone's gown be torn?
Everyone froze, their gazes collectively turning towards the source of the sound.
"Sister, are you alright… I'm so sorry, it really was an accident—"
Fiona's expression was utterly frantic, only Cecilia, who happened to meet her gaze, could catch the well-hidden malice in Fiona's eyes.
