CHAPTER 237: WANDA IS ATTACKED (II)

(Third Person).

Wanda’s eyes burned into Meredith’s back as she watched her walk away, hand-in-hand with little Xamira.

The child laughed, chattering up at Meredith as if she were her mother or favourite aunt—not the woman Wanda had carefully trained to trust her first.

She could practically hear Meredith’s smug little chuckle, even if the woman didn’t let it surface.

Wanda’s jaw tightened. "Brainwashed," she muttered under her breath. "That bitch has poisoned the little girl’s mind."

Fury coiled tight in her chest, seething like steam in a sealed kettle. Her nails bit into her palms as she curled her fists, imagining snapping Meredith’s slender neck in half—just a quick twist and everything would be over.

But fantasy was all it could be for now. Meredith was too protected. Too watched. Draven’s absence was the only breathing space Wanda had... but even that wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t time yet.

She turned on her heels and stormed out of the house, fire in her veins. Slamming the car door behind her, she reversed out of the driveway with a screech of tires and sped away from the estate.

An hour later, Wanda pulled into the underground parking lot of one of Duskmoore’s most exclusive shopping malls.

Reserved parking awaited her—of course it did. She had status here.

Wanda stepped out of her, shut the door and strutted toward the elevator in her black heels.

The glass doors of the luxury boutique on the third floor parted the moment she arrived. Staff members in sleek uniforms bowed slightly, smiling with thin, professional precision.

"Lady Wanda," the manager beamed. "Welcome back. The new collection just arrived this morning. Shall we bring you champagne or your usual?"

"Red wine," she said coolly. "And chilled berries. I want to take my time."

She was ushered into the private showroom where ambient lighting bathed the room in soft gold.

Glass displays lined the walls, filled with the latest pieces—gowns draped in silk and moonlight, custom jewelry glowing under spotlights, and heels with real gemstone clasps.

Wanda moved like a queen among her court, letting the assistants present piece after piece.

She rejected a velvet dress with a scoff, chose a sapphire-blue gown that clung perfectly to her hips, and demanded they bring out the full jewellery line to match the necklace she already wore.

One assistant brought out a ruby-studded clutch. Another arrived with a platinum choker shaped like interlocking fangs.

Her eyes lit with delight. "Wrap it all," she said. "I will take the shoes, too. All four pairs."

"As you wish, Lady Wanda," the manager replied, already calculating the commission in his head.

She barely looked as the total was tallied. She pulled Draven’s card from her bag and handed it over with a sweet smile—one she didn’t mean. The transaction processed instantly.

"Tell your designers," Wanda said, adjusting the mirror to admire her silhouette, "that next time, I want more blood red in the evening line. I’m tired of all these soft pastels."

"Of course, my Lady," the manager replied, bowing again.

Wanda left the boutique hours later, a personal assistant trailing her with four luxury bags and two boxes in hand.

Wanda’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk as she descended the elevator, swiping a quick glance at her phone.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, spilling cool artificial light across the underground parking lot.

Wanda stepped out, heels clicking against the concrete, her silk blouse fluttering gently with each stride. Behind her, the boutique assistant followed closely, arms burdened with boxes and luxury bags.

They reached her sleek black car, and with a quick flick of her wrist, Wanda popped open the trunk. The assistant arranged the bags carefully inside, then bowed slightly.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Wanda."

Wanda offered a faint, distracted nod. The moment the assistant turned away and disappeared into the elevator, she slammed the trunk shut, heels tapping sharply as she made her way to the driver’s door.

She opened it, slid into the seat, and pressed the ignition. The engine purred to life.

Then, with a jarring metallic clunk, the trunk suddenly snapped back open.

Wanda’s brow furrowed. Her fingers hovered over the console as she leaned sideways, glancing at the trunk through the rearview mirror. "What the—?"

She shut off the engine and stepped out, annoyed now. She moved to the rear of the car, already bracing herself to slam the trunk again—

When a sharp pain suddenly exploded in her foot.

A jagged scream ripped through her throat as a knife stabbed clean through her high heel into the soft flesh beneath.

"FUCK!" Her voice echoed through the empty parking lot like a whip crack.

From beneath the car, a figure slithered out—fast and low—and before she could react, four more emerged from the shadows, surrounding her in a semi-circle.

Each held a blade or blunt weapon, their faces hidden behind masks and tactical gear.

One of the men stepped forward, eyes glinting with arrogance. "Don’t resist, lady. You come with us, or we end it here."

Wanda’s lip curled.

"You think you are the predators?" she hissed, ignoring the blood that now soaked into her stiletto. Her gaze swept over the five men—measuring. Calculating. Her fury simmered like a rising flame. "You fools just walked into a den of wolves."

Then she yanked the knife from her foot with a snarl, her fingers tightening around the hilt until her knuckles blanched.

Without wasting time, the man lunged at her. She moved like water.

She dodged under the swing of his machete, twisted his arm mid-motion, and snapped his elbow with a brutal pop.

The scream was short-lived. She spun, burying the knife into his neck, hot blood spurting across the side of her car.

Another came at her with a crowbar.

Wanda ducked, slid across the polished concrete, and slammed the heel of her hand into his jaw, dislocating it instantly.

She yanked his legs out from under him and stabbed him twice in the gut before pivoting to meet the next two.