Chapter 3

On the way to pick up Vincent from headquarters, his phone's GPS blared the annoying voice pack Tiffany had deliberately recorded to taunt me. My heart didn't stir in the slightest.

"If you really don't want to go, you don't have to," Vincent mumbled awkwardly, clearing his throat.

Instead of answering, I pulled the Mercedes straight into the driveway of Tiffany’s luxury villa and stepped out with him.

The second Tiffany spotted Vincent, she threw her arms around his neck, planting kisses all over his face. After a moment of PDA, she turned around and looped her arm through mine.

"Jane! You made it!" she squealed like we were lifelong besties, despite having met less than a week ago. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of my fiancé for me."

Whispers broke out among the guests around the pool.

"So that's Vincent's little secretary? She doesn't hold a candle to Tiffany."

"I heard she used every dirty trick in the book to climb into his bed."

Their voices weren't quiet, but nasty rumors were something I had long grown immune to.

"Why are you dressed in such a boring business blouse for a party? Don't worry, I picked out something special for you!"

Ignoring my reaction, Tiffany dragged me into the guest dressing room.

The outfit was an eye-searing, neon-pink tutu dress covered in cheap sequins. It looked like an oversized toddler costume meant to turn me into a laughingstock. But God had blessed me with striking features and a model's frame; I could pull off even a circus costume.

When I stepped back out into the backyard, every pair of eyes—including Vincent’s—was glued to me in stunned silence.

Tiffany’s face flushed crimson with rage, though she forced a stiff smile.

"Let's see if you can keep that deadpan face when Vincent kicks you to the curb," she hissed viciously into my ear as she walked past to take center stage.

"Let the party begin!" she announced brightly into a microphone.

The courtyard gates swung open, and a pack of groomed, purebred dogs bounded into the lawn, dressed in flashy pet costumes, running straight toward their wealthy owners.

Only then did I realize the theme of tonight's party: "Pets and Royalty".

And my garish pink outfit matched the flashy dog costumes to perfection.

"Has every dog found its master?" Tiffany asked, her eyes locking straight onto Vincent and me at the back of the lawn.

The guests turned their smirking gazes our way.

"Looks like they have," Tiffany laughed, prompting a wave of cruel chuckles from the crowd.

I couldn't help but let out a cold smirk.

"Funny. I recall someone else screaming for her 'master' the other night."

During their passionate hookup, every filthy word she begged of Vincent had been loud and clear.

Tiffany turned bright red. Amid the bewildered gasps from the guests, she buried her burning face into Vincent's chest.

"Babe, tell her off!" she whined.

"Well," Vincent murmured, holding Tiffany close, "stray dogs do love eavesdropping."