Flora’s Guide to a Second Chance at Love and Life

Flora leaned back in her chair, lazily lifting her gaze to meet his, a slight smirk playing on her lips. It was hard to tell if she was amused or annoyed. Her face gave nothing away, but the man was clearly spooked, his skin crawling with fear. "Féraphine, please don't take it to heart. Flora didn't mean what she said," one of the socialites pleaded.

"Yes, please, let it go..." another chimed in.

"Flora, come over here and apologize to the Master," urged yet another, trying to smooth things over before they spiraled out of control.

Flora arched an eyebrow at this and stood up. To the socialites, it seemed like she was about to make amends. Amanda, however, was having none of it. She grabbed Flora's arm, her grip firm.

"Whether this Féraphine is legit or not, there's no way Flora's apologizing!" Amanda declared. "She's not gone yet; she's right here!"

"Féraphine, relax, have some water. Flora, stop hesitating and just apologize," another insisted.

"Flora, take this as a learning moment. You can't go around making bold claims anymore, got it?" they continued, still trying to cool down the situation.

Camille stood by, a smug look on her face. Flora had been so high and mighty just moments ago, but now she seemed to be on the verge of eating humble pie.

Speaking in a low voice meant only for Féraphine's ears, Camille added, "Féraphine, Flora just said a lot of nasty stuff about you. You can't just let it slide..."

But before she could finish, her words caught in her throat. The once haughty 'Féraphine' suddenly dropped to his knees before Flora.

"I... Ms. Flora, I was wrong. I shouldn't have pretended to be Féraphine! Please, forgive me just this once. I won't do it again!" he begged, the room falling into a stunned silence, broken only by his desperate pleas. "What are you doing?" Camille shrieked, finding her voice again. "Féraphine, why are you kneeling to Flora?"

"No, no... I'm not Féraphine, I was lying, I'm not him at all!" the man blubbered, tears threatening to spill.

This man wasn't Féraphine; the real one was right here. He'd heard that the President was visiting Lone Island, but who would've thought he'd run into her? If she found out he'd been impersonating her he'd be in deep trouble.

"Ms. Flora, please, have mercy. I didn't mean to deceive; my daughter is sick, and I needed money..." he sobbed, covering his face.

Now everything made sense. The

man was a fraud. The socialites who

had demanded Flora's apology looked as if they'd swallowed a lemon, Flora had been right all along; this guy was a phony. Their previous insistence now seemed utterly ridiculous.

They glared daggers at Camille, clearly peeved. It was typical of someone from a modest background to cause such a ruckus! Camille, too, was fuming, struggling to stand as she pointed accusingly at the man, words failing her. How could he be a fake?

She had doubted his identity at first,

but he had shown her the distinctive badge from Club 257. It seemed impossible to fake. That was why she'd been so sure of his identity, neverquestioning it. Yet here he was, a counterfeit, and what Baffled her even more was his terror of Flora. Just the sight of her had him on his knees.

But Flora was just an ordinary woman with no known connections!