I sneered, “That wasn’t the agreement, Mr. Preston. Once we’re divorced, I’m no longer part of the Preston family, nor am I your employee.

“Enjoy the show, Victor.”

With that, I hung up and promptly blocked his number.

*

Once I had recovered, I made my way to the Grant Group office. Gavin had prepared a new office for me and even assigned me a new assistant, Jenny Starks, who had been my assistant at Preston.

Surprised, I turned to Gavin. “How did you manage to get Jenny here?”

Gavin grinned while explaining, “Surprised? She was my spy at Preston all along. I deliberately placed her as your assistant. Now, she’s the only one you can trust completely. Besides, you two make a great team, don’t you?”

I sighed, shaking my head at my brother’s cunningness. “Thank you for thinking ahead, Gavin.”

After settling in, I decided to visit Grant City Mall. I had always gone there representing Preston for three years, but that day, I was returning as its owner.

As we made our way through the mall, Jenny suddenly whispered behind me, “Miss Grant, have you met Mr. Preston’s new wife?”

“New wife? So, they’re married already?” I asked, more out of curiosity than hurt.

“Yes, everyone knows she’s pregnant too,” Jenny replied.

I nodded, feeling indifferent to the news. After all, Victor’s life was no longer any of my concern.

But as we continued walking, someone bumped into my shoulder, quite deliberately. To my surprise, she stumbled so bad to the floor.

“Ouch… Why did you bump into me?” the woman said, her voice dripping with shamelessness.

When I saw her face, I was taken aback. It was Margareth Alexander, a colleague and a close friend from my internship days at Preston. I bent down, intending to offer her a hand, but Jenny’s whisper stopped me.

“She’s Mr. Preston’s new wife,” she murmured.

“What?”

Margareth smirked, then dramatically pretended to struggle to stand, playing the part of a weak woman bullied by me. She had even brought someone along to record the whole scene.

“You must be angry because I stole your husband,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes as she tried to hug me.

I gently pushed her away, but she fell backward again and began to cry.

All around us, people stared at me as if I were a cruel villain.

‘What a cunning vixen,’ I muttered in my heart. But then, I sighed and said to Jenny, "Give her some compensation. I don't have time for her theatrics."

As I turned to leave, Margareth suddenly grabbed my injured leg, the one still healing from the bridge collapsed accident I was in a week ago.

Pain shot through me, but I stood my ground, waiting to see what act she would put on next.

"I'm sorry, Earlene. I didn't mean to deceive you. But if it weren't for you, I would have married Victor long ago. We've liked each other for the past ten years," she cried, tears streaming down her face.

It was astonishing. That woman had just thrown herself to the ground without a second thought, showing no concern for her so-called pregnancy. Then, she was playing the victim card, making me out to be the villain in this whole charade.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice crackled through a phone.

"What are you doing, Earlene?" Victor's voice rang out.

It turned out that Margareth's accomplices who had been recording, had switched it to a video call.

"First, you sabotage my family's business, and now you're pushing Margareth? Are you trying to make her miscarry?"

Questions flew from the phone, but I just smiled and gave Margareth a small, deliberate kick, forcing her to release her grip on my leg.

"Well, if I'm already being accused, I might as well live up to it," I said coolly.

I could hear Victor's outrage on the other end, but I ignored it and walked away, leaving Margareth behind. The crowd that had gathered began to disperse, some no doubt recording the scene on their phones. Still, I was confident that Jenny would handle the situation.

Sure enough, not a single video of me and Margareth surfaced on social media.

"She did a good job, didn't she?" Gavin remarked, interrupting my thoughts as I stared at my computer screen.

"When did you come in?" I asked, a bit startled. Then, I continued, "And without knocking, too."

"Don't forget, this is my company. I don't need permission to enter any room," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine. Take a seat, Mr. President. What brings you here?"

"Nothing much. Just wanted to say you're doing great work. I still can't believe you were betrayed by a colleague, though," he said, chuckling.

I shook my head, still unable to wrap my mind around the fact that Victor's first love had been right under my nose all this time.

Margareth and I had met as interns in the Marketing Team five years ago. Though she was older, we always connected well, often working late into the night together.

She had even helped me with my final college assignment, which brought us closer. I had been so naive, confiding in her about my feelings for Victor, not knowing she was the one he truly loved.

"I'll report you to Mom," I snapped, annoyed.

Gavin quickly stood up, feigning panic and said, "Whoa, calm down, sister. I actually came to tell you that we've been invited to the Met Gala again this year. It's your turn to represent Grant, not Preston.

“Oops, my bad. You're not even a part of Preston since then."

I grabbed the book in front of me and threw it at him, but Gavin dodged just in time.

After that, he said with a grin, "Get ready to wow the world. After all, our father wants to introduce you to some colleagues there."

He slowly backed toward the door, wary of my reaction.

"You can thank me later," he added with a wink.

After he left, I called Jenny. "Get the car ready. I have some places to go."

"Yes, Miss Grant," she replied promptly.

It had been years since I last attended the Met Gala. The last time was before I even started college, back when I was still a student at Middlesex School.

Those were the days when I dreamt of launching my own brand, which led me to study business at MIT.

But somewhere along the way, after meeting Victor, I seemed to have forgotten about those dreams. Even though in my first year of college, I was passionately designing the brand I planned to launch after graduation.

Suddenly, Jenny's voice pulled me back to the present. "We've arrived at LaBoutique, Miss Grant."

I blinked, focusing on the reality I hit at that moment. Dwelling on the past wouldn't help; it was time to move forward.

As a result, I spent the day trying on clothes, selecting accessories, and preparing for the Met Gala. It had been so long since I last prepared for a party. During my time as Preston's daughter-in-law, I was kept hidden away, never introduced, never celebrated.

The first Monday of May finally arrived, and the Met Gala was upon us. My mother and I spent the morning getting ready, with stylists buzzing around us.

One of them greeted me warmly, "Miss Grant, it's lovely to see you again. The last time I did your makeup was for your 17th birthday, right?"

"Yes, you're right. I kind of miss those days when I was young and fussed over," I replied, smiling at the memory.

"What do you mean, Miss Grant? You're still young! Now, you're just more dignified and wise, with a college degree under your belt. In addition, your beauty hasn't faded one bit," she said, beaming.

Another stylist chimed in, "I can't wait to do your makeup for your engagement or wedding one day."

"Oh, a girl like Miss Grant seems to want to enjoy her time in business first. I can't wait to accompany you around the world," another teased.

As they spoke, I began to realize just how luxurious my life had been. Why had I ever allowed myself to suffer under the Preston family for so long?

I also did not expect that my family had kept my marriage hidden very well, telling everyone I was focused on my studies. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

I smiled at the stylists and said, "Well, maybe the next big event will be the launch of my new brand."

My mother, overhearing, smiled proudly. "So, you've been thinking that far ahead, Earlene? I'm glad to hear it."

As we chatted, I kept an eye on the Met Gala guest list. Preston was invited, as usual, but I was curious to see if Margareth would attend.

My question was answered as soon as I arrived at the Met Museum. While mingling with colleagues my age, I ran into Victor and Margareth.

"Earlene, I didn't expect you to come," Margareth said with a sarcastic smile.

Victor remained silent, looking me up and down as if he were disgusted.

"I'll get you some lemonade, honey. Be good here, and let me know if this woman tortures you again," he said.

"Sure, thank you, honey," Margareth replied, kissing Victor on the lips right in front of me.

I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze away, too disgusted to watch.

"Which sugar daddy brought you here, Earlene?" Margareth asked with a sneer as soon as Victor went.

"Well, at least I didn't steal someone else's husband and being pregnant with him like you," I retorted, my voice dripping with contempt.

My words hit her mark. As a result, Margareth's face flushed with anger.

"If it weren't for you, Victor would have married me a long time ago. It's your fault for coming between us," she spat, jabbing her finger into my chest repeatedly, forcing me to step back.

I shoved her hand away and shot back, "As far as I remember, Victor was dumped by his first love, which left him unable to believe in love anymore. I was the one who helped him rise to where he is now.

“You seem like the type of woman who only enjoys luxury and abandons men at their lowest point, Margareth."

"How dare you!" Margareth screamed, lunging towards me.

The force of her attack sent me stumbling backward and, before I knew it, I was falling into the swimming pool. The splash was enormous, drawing the attention of everyone around us.

Thankfully, the pool wasn’t deep. I quickly climbed out, drenched but determined.

I grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby table and marched back to Margareth. Without hesitation, I smashed it over her head. Blood began to trickle down her face as she crumpled to the ground.

"Earlene, are you out of your mind?" Victor's voice rang out as he rushed toward the scene.

I raised my head and looked at him provocatively, "I wasn't crazy. I only taught a mistress who interfered with other people's marriages a lesson."