After retracting the message, Jane sent me a bunch of photos of her son, subtly probing if I had seen the message she accidentally sent.

I told her I hadn’t.

Immediately, she brightened up and began praising the blind date she had set up for me, going on about how perfect he was.

I ignored her and, instead of the expensive gift I had originally planned to give her son, I replaced it with a simple toy set that only cost a few bucks.

The next day, after finishing work, I drove to the hotel Jane had chosen for the celebration. As I parked in the underground lot, I overheard some chatter about a wealthy man who had spent a fortune on a grand proposal at the hotel.

As I reached the elevator entrance, I got a message from Hunter Gibson. He sent me his location, and to my surprise, he was also at the same hotel.

I texted back, [What’s up?]

Hunter replied with a few playful hand-waving emojis, [It’s a secret.]

Before I could respond, he sent me a couple of selfies.

This guy really knew how to play his cards. I had to admit, he was ridiculously good-looking, and seeing his face always lifted my mood.

Then came a video of him pouting and being all playful. He was actually pulling the charm card on me.

You see, Hunter was kind of a big deal.

A straight-A student, ridiculously good-looking, and the kind of guy who seemed to excel at everything. While the rest of us were stressing over high school entrance exams, he skipped grades and secured a place at a top university.

By the time I finished high school, he had already studied abroad.

And if that wasn’t enough, after returning to the country, he dabbled in acting, blew up in two years, became a global sensation, then stepped back from the limelight to start his own entertainment company. Within no time, he had become a major player in the industry.

In short, Hunter was the golden boy of our school years, a young and accomplished entrepreneur, and the kind of man every girl could only dream of but never reach.

The elevator reached the first floor, and there were signs directing guests to Jane’s private room.

I followed the directions, only to spot Jane’s aunt, Lisa, from a distance. She was clearly not pleased with my late arrival.

She stormed over, scowling, “Why are you so late? You couldn’t have come earlier to help with the preparations?”

“I’m a guest, not a servant. Why would I be helping out?” I responded calmly.

Lisa was Jane’s aunt, and by extension, my aunt-in-law, as she had married my mom’s brother.

My mom, lacking a backbone, was a pushover for her family, always at the mercy of my grandmother and uncle.

Ever since Lisa married into the family, she acted as if she had some authority over my mom, bossing her around whenever she could. I’d had enough of her antics long ago.

Lisa shot me a sharp look. “If it wasn’t for your mom begging me to put in a good word for you with Jane, to help you find a wealthy man, I wouldn’t waste my time on you.”

I rolled my eyes at her.

Infuriated, her face twisted in anger, and she stomped off, muttering that she wouldn’t waste another second on me.

I was seated at the same table as Lisa and my cousin.

At the banquet, the seating arrangement clearly followed a hierarchy.

Her husband’s superiors sat at the front; wealthy and influential relatives were given the prime seats, while friends with good standing were seated in the middle. Those without resources were pushed to the back tables.

Surprisingly, I had been placed at the very last table.

My cousin smirked, “I get why I’m stuck at the back – I’m the family dropout – but you, the genius with the fancy degree? Kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“There’s nothing strange about it. It’s not like having a degree matters much. Look at Jane – she didn’t even finish high school and married rich. She’s the real success story,” Lisa chimed in, seizing the opportunity to belittle me again.

“Men can always find someone younger if they’re rich, but for women, once they’re older, they’re just leftovers – like you, Bree,” she added, aiming her jab at me.

I glanced towards the tables up front and noticed Jane’s second aunt sitting with her family at one of the front tables.

I chuckled. “Aunt, isn’t it odd that your sister, also Jane’s aunt, is sitting at the front table with her kids, while you and my cousin are stuck at the back here?”

My cousin couldn’t hold it in anymore. He cursed under his breath and lashed out at Lisa, “If you want to keep sucking up to Jane and her family, that’s your problem. Don’t drag me into it.”

Lisa, flustered, smacked him on his shoulder several times, whispering furiously, “I’m only doing this so you can get a job through Jane’s rich husband. Do you think I’d be humbling myself like this for fun?”

As she spoke, Jane approached, holding her baby.

“Thank you all for coming to my son’s baby shower,” she announced, smiling.

She then handed the baby over to me, saying, “Come on, godmother, hold the baby. I’m sure you’ve brought a generous gift for him.”

Her husband, John, followed her closely, pretending to scold Jane.

“She’s still working on her PhD. It’s not easy to save up. Don’t make her spend more than she can afford.”

“That’s right, I’ve been barely scraping by lately,” I jumped in, handing Jane the toy I had prepared.

The smile vanished from her face as she questioned me, “Weren’t you going to give my son a solid gold rattle?”

I sneered, “You’re so rich, and you still expect me to give your son a gold rattle? Doesn’t seem right.”

She immediately frowned. “If you weren’t going to give it, you shouldn’t have promised in the first place. It’s really tacky to say one thing and then back out.”

I resisted the urge to slap her. Ever since she got married, it’s been one occasion after another – childbirth, baby showers, birthday parties. Each time, she would outright ask me for gifts.

When she had her third child, I gave her a large cash gift, followed by an expensive designer bag while she was recovering. Before the baby shower, she even hinted that I should get something extravagant, like a solid gold rattle.

And all of this was while she had no clue if I was actually well-off.

Jane’s demands were ridiculous.

It was as if I was a perpetual fool at her disposal.

We were about to start arguing when the event host called Jane up to the front.

She strutted up in her high heels, dressed to the nines, linking arms with her husband as they stepped into the spotlight.

After a few brief words, she rushed over to invite John’s boss, who was sitting at the head table, to give a speech.

When I saw who it was, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was Frank Stone, the general manager of one of my subsidiary companies.

Jane grabbed the microphone and called me up to the front.

“And now, let’s welcome my best friend, Bree!”

My mind flashed back to the message Jane had hastily retracted yesterday:

[Tomorrow, I’m setting Bree up with a balding old man. This is going to be hilarious. You guys better show up!]

I glanced at Frank, who was indeed the “quality man” Jane had mentioned.

As I walked onto the front, Jane leaned in close and whispered, “Bree, this guy is my husband’s boss. He’s got a house, a car, and a kid. You’d be set as a mom with no hassle.”

The closer I got, the more visibly uncomfortable Frank became.

By the time we made eye contact, he was sweating bullets.

I waved my phone at him subtly, signaling for him to play along.

He caught on and gave a respectful nod.

Jane, misreading his discomfort as shyness, started up with the microphone again.

“I’m just so thrilled! Not only am I celebrating my son’s baby shower, but I’m also setting my best friend up with such a wealthy, high-status man. I really am a beauty with a heart of gold!”

The guests exchanged smirks and stifled their laughter. I snatched the microphone from Jane’s hand.

“Why do you keep tossing every low-quality man my way? Am I a garbage bin? I’m not interested.”

My blunt words left Jane stunned.

John scrambled to appease Frank, who nervously waved it off.

But Jane’s composure cracked. She threw a tantrum, pointing her finger at me.

“Don’t think I don’t know! You’ve been staying single because you’ve been jealous of me marrying well. You’ve had your eye on my husband all along!”

The host, sensing the situation was getting out of control, hurried to diffuse the tension, pulling me away from the scene.

Jane, however, tried to salvage the moment by taking the stage again.

“I just want to say to all the single ladies here, don’t even think about my husband. Not everyone is as lucky as I am, marrying a man who’s not only handsome but makes six figures a month!”

She shot a venomous glare in my direction as she finished her speech.

Unfazed, I quietly sent a message to my assistant:

“Inform John that he’s fired.”