Chapter 3

"No need," I said, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Trash is best taken out by yourself if you want it gone for good."

The next day, I got discharged and made my way back to work.

As the Ashbourne family's only daughter—and Ashbourne Group's design director—I basically ran the place.

But the moment I stepped into my office, my desk looked like a disaster zone.

The spot where my limited-edition figurines and design drafts used to sit was now buried under piles of cheap snack wrappers and bargain-bin file boxes.

And there was Theresa, sitting in my six-figure ergonomic chair.

She was wearing a Chanel jacket that was way too big for her—my jacket.

She was scribbling on a document with my pen.

When she saw me walk in, she jumped, and my pen clattered to the floor, the nib snapping right off.

That pen was a Montblanc custom piece my dad gave me for my eighteenth birthday.

"Oh no!" Theresa exclaimed, hurriedly grabbing the pen off the floor, looking all innocent and wide-eyed.

"Seraphina, you're here! Julian said you were on leave, so he told me I could use your office for now."

My eyes locked onto the ruined pen, my temples pounding with frustration.

"Who told you you could wear my clothes? Who said you could touch my stuff?" I snapped.

Theresa shrank back, tears instantly springing to her eyes.

"I...my clothes were dirty, and Julian said you have tons of stuff, so it wouldn't hurt if I borrowed one... Plus, this jacket looked kind of old, so I figured you didn't care about it anymore..." she whimpered, sounding pitiful.

Old? I nearly choked. Was she serious?

That was a couture piece I literally just brought back from Paris last week. There are only three in existence!

"Take it off. Right now," I said, my tone ice-cold.

"What?" Theresa blinked, totally caught off guard.

"Take off that jacket. Now," I repeated, not budging an inch.

"But...if I take it off, I'll have nothing to wear..." she whimpered, biting her lip, looking like she was about to cry, as if I'd just ruined her life.

"Seraphina! What are you doing?" Julian shouted as he barged in.

The office door slammed open, and Julian strode in, shoving Theresa behind him like he was her bodyguard.

"Are you seriously starting drama this early? Making Theresa take off her clothes. What, you trying to embarrass her or something?" Julian snapped, his voice dripping with anger.

I pointed at the jacket Theresa had on. "That's mine she's wearing."

"It's just a jacket!" Julian snapped, cutting me off with a roll of his eyes.

"You've got a whole closet packed with clothes. Half of them still have the tags on. Letting Theresa wear one isn't a big deal, is it? She just started here and doesn't even have proper clothes yet. Do you want her embarrassing the company in front of clients? Seriously, as the director, can't you show a little class?"

"Class?" I sneered.

He wanted to use my couture to make his little darling look impressive, and now he was lecturing me about generosity? My anger simmered.

"Julian, do you not understand me? That's my personal property," I said coldly.

"What's yours and mine? We're about to get married. Why bother keeping things separate?" Julian said, acting like he was totally in the right.

"Besides, Theresa's slimmer than you. She looks way better in that jacket. With your build, you just can't make that look work."

I laughed in disbelief, anger bubbling up inside me.

He was exactly like this in my last life.

He'd happily take all the money and perks I gave him, but always trashed my style and body, just to hype up Theresa's so-called 'natural' and 'real' vibe.

"Fine," I said coolly, nodding as I walked over to my desk and picked up the broken pen. "Did she mess up my pen, too?"

Julian glanced at it. "It's just a pen. So what if it's broken? I'll grab you a box of ballpoints from the office supply store, probably work better anyway. Theresa didn't mean it. She's never handled anything that expensive before; it was just an accident."

Seriously? He thought a cheap office pen was good enough? I thought, barely able to believe it.

He wanted to replace a two-dollar pen with my custom piece worth tens of thousands? I sneered.

"Julian, is that really how little you value my things?" I shot back, my voice cold as ice.

Julian frowned. "Seraphina, do you have to be so materialistic? Theresa only used your pen for work. It's the thought that counts! Why can't you learn from her and be a little more humble?"

"Humble?" I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I grabbed a handful of those cheap snacks off my desk and chucked them right at Julian's face.

"Take your precious 'humbleness' and your side chick, and get out of my office!" I snapped.

The snack bags burst right in Julian's face, potato chip bits raining all over him.

He stood there stunned, totally blindsided that I'd actually lash out.

Outside, employees craned their necks, whispering and gossiping about the scene.

Julian's face went dark as a thundercloud, jaw clenched. "Seraphina, you actually dared to hit me?"

"Why not? Should I schedule it for a special occasion?" I shot back, arms crossed, chin held high.

I crossed my arms, chin held high. "This is a workplace. I'm the design director, she's an intern. She took over my office and used my things without permission—unauthorized use of a superior's office and personal property is an instant fireable offense under company policy. She's out."

Theresa started bawling the moment she heard she was getting fired.