Chapter 3

Three days after leaving Matthew, I found a job as a dishwasher.

In this busy city, the only work I could get was under-the-table with no questions asked or ID involved.

My hands were drenched in greasy, soapy water, my fingertips turning pale and wrinkled.

But for once, I felt truly grounded.

At least I was earning my money honestly.

"Hey, newbie, wash these dishes," the shift manager, a heavyset middle-aged woman, barked, dropping a mountain of dirty plates in front of me.

"Alright," I muttered, keeping my head down as I silently scrubbed away.

The dishwashing area was hot, humid, and filled with the sour stench of old food and leftovers.

I had grown used to it by now.

Compared to prison, this place felt like heaven.

"Did you hear? Mr. Puckett from Puckett Group is getting married. The bride is just out of college," one of the dishwashers whispered.

"Seriously? That's like a real-life Cinderella story, marrying into a rich family," the other replied.

"Cinderella? Please. I heard it's all about getting rid of bad luck. His old assistant was in prison, and people say she was a total jinx. Now he wants someone squeaky clean to turn his luck around," the first woman snorted.

The two women continued gossiping as they scrubbed away.

My hands froze for a moment, but then I kept scrubbing as though nothing had happened.

Suddenly, one plate slipped from my grip and crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

"What the hell are you doing, you klutz?" The shift manager rushed over, pointing at my face. "These plates cost more than 5 bucks each. Do you think you can pay for that? I'm docking your pay. You won't get any wages today!"

I crouched down and started picking up the shards in silence.

A sharp piece cut my finger, and blood began to seep out.

I stared at the bead of blood on my finger, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.

There was a time when I was a privileged heiress, never lifting a finger to do chores.

For Matthew, I had learned to cook, to do laundry, and even to throw punches over a stale bun in prison.

Now, I couldn't even hold onto a plate.

"Hailey?" A hesitant voice called from the doorway.

I stiffened.

Slowly, I looked up and saw a face both familiar and strange.

It was Edward Nash, Matthew's rival and one of the victims of that infamous business fraud case that year.

He stood at the entrance, dressed in a perfectly tailored designer suit, looking completely out of place in the grimy, chaotic kitchen.

"So it really is you," Edward said, stepping closer. His gaze lingered on my greasy apron and the blood on my finger, his brow furrowing. "The Puckett Group's star? Who would've guessed you'd end up like this?"

I stood up, hiding my hand behind my back. "Mr. Nash, you must be mistaken."

With that, I turned to leave.

"Hailey, Matthew's about to get married!" Edward called out from behind me. "Are you going to keep hiding forever?"

I stopped in my tracks. "That's his business. It has nothing to do with me."

"Nothing to do with you?" Edward chuckled lowly. "Do you even realize he's blaming you for all the cooked books at the Puckett Group? To clear his own name, he's planning to sue you for embezzlement."

I spun around, staring at him in disbelief. "What did you say?"

"Matthew's planning to make you the scapegoat to reassure Julieta and erase any stain from his past," Edward said, stepping closer and offering me a handkerchief. "Here, clean yourself up. You look a mess."

I didn't take the handkerchief. Instead, I locked eyes with him. "Do you have any evidence to back that up?"

"Of course," Edward replied, pulling a USB drive from his pocket. "This contains recordings of Matthew telling you to cook the books back then and even audio from his recent talks with his lawyer."

I took the USB drive, my hands shaking.

It felt as if my heart was being gripped tightly, the agony twisting inside me.

So it wasn't only about leaving me behind.

He wanted to destroy me completely.

For that pure Julieta, he was determined to crush me into the mud, making sure I'd never rise again.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked Edward.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Edward said with a sly grin, showing off a sharp canine that almost made him look cute. "Plus, I really admire your ruthlessness."

He pointed at my eyes. "That look in your eyes, the kind that says you'll do whatever it takes to survive."

I tightened my grip on the USB drive.

The cold metal pressed into my palm, sharp and painful.

"Mr. Nash, I'll take this deal," I said.