On a regular day, Tyrone prided himself on being the top executive assistant, the face of Royal Group. He maintained a certain level of prestige. But today, he'd reached his limit. Milly's antics had almost cost him money, and if she continued causing trouble, he'd likely lose his job. Without thinking, he unleashed a sharp, biting retort.
He deeply regretted it afterward, worried about facing work the next day after his outburst. While everyone processed his rapid-fire rant, a light laugh broke the tension—a pleasant sound cutting through the summer heat, like a refreshing breeze.
Everyone looked up to see a young woman in a floral dress standing at the door. She had delicate features, flawless skin, and an elegant presence that complemented her fresh, bright appearance. Her radiant smile revealed red lips and pearly white teeth.
She had overheard Tyrone's harsh words and couldn't help but laugh. Tiffany hadn't expected this from Tyrone, usually a harmless man around her. Yet, here he was, sharp-tongued and witty, delivering immensely satisfying comebacks.
Her laughter further infuriated the already embarrassed and enraged Milly, pushing her to her breaking point. But Milly knew better than to act recklessly in Royal Tower and risk offending Richard. Even with Tyrone, she exercised caution, fearing his power to blacklist her.
Needing to vent, Milly saw Tiffany as an easy target—a soft, insignificant person she could easily crush to regain her dignity. Violently shoving aside the restraining security guards, she stormed toward Tiffany, raising her hand to slap her.
"Who do you think you are? You dare to laugh at me?" Milly shouted.
But Tiffany effortlessly caught the slap. Her expression was calm and playful. "So this is the real Milly? You're so arrogant and rude. Do your fans know?"
Milly cultivated a public image as a caring, considerate star, loved for her sweet persona. Her photoshoots portrayed her as sassy and fierce, earning her a large fanbase. Unexpectedly, she was arrogant, bossy, and self-absorbed.
Tiffany casually released Milly's hand and smiled lazily. "Don't push me. You don't want to test my temper."
This was a warning, but Milly didn't heed it. Scoffing coldly, she raised her hand again, harder this time, lifting strands of Tiffany's hair. Tiffany remained indifferent. "Well, you leave me no choice."
With surprising speed, Tiffany slapped Milly twice, then yanked her arm, pulling her into the glass door. Milly screamed as her face and nose collided with the glass. For a moment, onlookers thought they saw her nose bend slightly—an illusion, perhaps, suggesting Milly wasn't the "natural beauty" she claimed.
The impact, while not overly strong, was enough to satisfy Tiffany. "This glass door is pretty good quality," she observed nonchalantly.
Everyone was speechless, stunned that Tiffany was more concerned about the door than Milly's bruised face. Milly, in pain, was further enraged by Tiffany's response. "You—you actually dared to hit me?"
Tiffany smirked, the smile not reaching her eyes. "You've got it all wrong. You made the first move. Self-defense."
Milly seethed. She hadn't even touched Tiffany, yet her nose was crooked and her face burned. Her face, the very asset fueling her career, was damaged! She wanted revenge but knew she needed to retreat before things escalated further. A damaged face would ruin her career. However, she couldn't leave without some retaliation.
Noticing a limp in Tiffany's step, Milly sneered. "I thought you were tough, but you're just a cripple!" She aimed a vicious kick at Tiffany's injured leg, but missed. She tried again, but the security guards intervened, grabbing and ejecting her from the building.
Tiffany thanked the guards and went outside to wait. She hadn't made an appointment with Richard. Outside, Milly's frustration boiled over. She grabbed a baseball bat from her sports car and charged toward Tiffany.
"You're finished today, you cripple!" Milly snapped.
Tiffany sighed, feeling exasperation. Even with an injured leg, Milly posed no real threat.
"Look, the reporters are here!" Tiffany called out.
Panicked, Milly dropped the bat, shrieked, and sped off in her convertible. The thought of reporters and exposure was her worst nightmare.
Of course, there were no reporters. The street was empty. With Milly gone, the air felt clearer. Tiffany sat in the shade, enjoying the peace. She noticed Richard's car in the parking lot.
As lunchtime approached, Tiffany saw a delivery van unloading meals. She had an idea. Ten minutes later, disguised as a delivery worker, she strolled back into Royal Tower, pushing a cart of meals for the top-floor office. No one stopped her.
As the elevator ascended, Tiffany felt nervous, but her disguise was flawless. Taking a deep breath, she reached the top floor. Richard's office was ahead. The floor was quiet, most employees out for lunch. She knocked.
A cold, familiar voice responded, "Come in." It was a voice she hadn't heard in a long time—low, magnetic, and soothing. Her heart skipped a beat. She opened the door and stepped inside.