Chapter 3

Chloe scrambled to turn down the volume, her eyes darting over to me with barely hidden panic.

I stared blankly at my phone screen.

Whatever reel I had been watching was paused. I hadn't registered a single second of it.

"Someone I know."

He was talking about me.

I inhaled slowly, locked my phone, and set it face down on the sofa.

"Done cleaning?"

Chloe nodded, fidgeting awkwardly with her sleeves.

"Then you can leave."

My voice was completely flat, as if I were commenting on the weather.

She reached for her purse, but her phone buzzed again.

This time it was a text. As she read it, a smug little smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

I caught the words on her illuminated screen:

"I picked up that chestnut mousse cake you love. Wait for me at the apartment, I'm heading back right now."

Chestnut mousse cake.

I stared at the tiny scratch on my phone case for two whole seconds.

Dylan never remembered what sweet treats I liked.

Yet he knew Chloe’s favorite cake flavor down to the exact dessert.

Chloe picked up her tote bag.

Instead of heading for the door, she walked over to the sofa and sat down right across from me.

I instinctively leaned back, disgusted by her proximity.

She noticed, smiling with condescending pity.

"You know, Dylan talks about you a lot at work," she said softly.

"He always says you're immature, spend too much money, and refuse to do any chores."

She paused, clearly savoring every word.

"He told me being with you is utterly exhausting."

I tilted my head and met her eyes.

"So he vents to you? Big deal."

I tossed my phone onto the coffee table, crossed my legs, and leaned back into the cushions.

"At least I don't sign up to be his unpaid maid."

Chloe's face tightened.

I didn't give her room to breathe.

"He still transfers me money whenever I want, pays half my rent, and clears my shopping bills."

I tilted my head, offering her a sweet, razor-sharp smile.

"Which means, in his eyes, me lying on his couch playing on my phone is worth infinitely more than you cleaning his toilet for free."

Chloe’s face went dead white.

Her lips parted, but before she could find her voice, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the entryway.

The door swung open.

Dylan walked in, holding a high-end bakery box tied with a satin ribbon.

"Chloe, I got the chestnut one! The line was ridiculous—"

He looked up and saw me sitting on the couch.

He froze dead in his tracks.

The bakery box was wrapped in an elegant chestnut-colored bow, packaged like an anniversary present.

His gaze darted frantically from me to Chloe, then back to me, the color rapidly draining from his face.

"Evelyn? What... what are you doing here?"

I stayed seated, tilting my head.

"Didn't you hire a maid to clean the apartment?"

I pointed a finger at the gleaming hardwood floor.

"I just came to supervise. She did a decent job."

Dylan’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting with panic. "What maid?"

I didn't answer. I just looked over at Chloe.

Chloe looked down at her hands, clutching the straps of her bag in silence.

Realizing the jig was up, Dylan forced an awkward laugh.

"Babe, you’re misunderstanding. Chloe isn't a maid. She's just a coworker who kindly offered to help out! I was just bringing her a treat to thank her—"

I nodded and stood up.

"Right. My mistake."

I walked over until I was standing inches from him, looking up into his lying eyes.

"She’s not a maid."

"She’s your side piece."