With that, Julian straightened his posture, locking eyes with the cousin who had just insulted Elena. His gaze was cold and utterly intimidating.
"The quality of a stitch does not define the class of a woman," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm yet carrying a pressure that silenced the entire table instantly.
"Some people need high-end designer labels to cover the emptiness inside their heads. As for Elena, she needs no validation from a piece of expensive fabric to appear honorable.
I believe that discussing the authenticity of someone else's clothing at a formal dinner party only exposes the poverty of your own social education."
The sarcasm, wrapped in polished, sophisticated language, struck the cousin like a physical blow. Her face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson, and s
