Chapter 3

I have no doubt about it. In Ventaris, Charles ruled with an iron fist. Destroying my tiny design company would be no harder than squashing a bug.

My response once again took him by surprise. He must've thought I'd be sobbing and begging for mercy.

"Then why are you still doing this?" Charles narrowed his eyes, the air around him turning dangerous.

I stood up, walked around my desk, and came right up to him. We were only inches apart. I could clearly smell that familiar, crisp, woody scent on him.

"Charles," I said, lifting my head and locking eyes with him, speaking each word slowly and clearly. "Because I don't care anymore. I can afford to lose this company.

"But you know exactly how much Foster Group will lose because of this failed bid. Let's see who suffers more."

Charles looked at me, the anger in his eyes slowly fading, replaced by shock, confusion, and something else I couldn't even name.

After a long pause, his voice was hoarse as he finally spoke. "Are you just doing this to get back at me?"

"No, it's not about getting back at you." I shook my head. "I'm telling you straight up. I'm not your sidekick. I'll be just fine on my own."

"Oh, right." I suddenly remembered something, pulled a wedding invitation from my drawer, and handed it to him. "Almost forgot to give you this."

He lowered his gaze and read the words on the invitation. In the bride's column, my name was clearly written. And the groom's column was empty.

"What's this?" His voice was dangerously low.

"My wedding invitation," I replied, my smile dazzling. "Didn't I mention? I'm getting married. Haven't decided on the groom yet, so that part's still open.

"But don't worry, whoever I pick will be a hundred—no, a thousand times better than you. Mr. Foster, care to show up and have a drink at my wedding?"

Charles's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles white and veins standing out.

The air felt frozen in that moment.

Charles didn't take the invitation. He glared at me like an enraged lion for what felt like forever, then spun around and slammed the door so hard that dust rained from the ceiling.

Chris poked his head in, looking worried. "Ms. Jameson, are you okay?"

I waved him off and slumped back into my chair, feeling completely drained. Putting on a brave face just now had left me totally spent.

Going head-to-head with Charles was like throwing myself against a brick wall, but I had to do it. I needed him to see that I wasn't the kind of woman he could just call up or toss aside whenever he wanted.

My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. [I'm at the café downstairs from your office. Let's meet.] Signed, Grace.

'Well, well, the main player finally decided to show up,' I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips. I replied with a single word: [Sure.]

'Let's see what this legendary first love is really like,' I thought.

At the café, Grace was sitting by the window. She wore a white dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders. She looked gentle and serene, the kind that makes people want to protect her.

No wonder Charles can't let her go.

When she saw me, she stood up and greeted me with an impeccable smile. "Hello, Ms. Jameson."

"Ms. Mitchell," I said as I sat down across from her, cutting right to the chase. "Why did you want to see me?"

She poured me a glass of water with elegant poise. "Ms. Jameson, I know about you and Charles. I feel bad for how things turned out between you two. But I hope you understand that love isn't something you can force."

I almost laughed out loud. 'What a picture of pure, innocent grace!' I thought.

"So, what's your point?" I picked up my glass and took a sip. "Are you here to claim your prize or just show off?"

Grace clearly hadn't expected me to be so blunt. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly smoothed it over. "That's not what I meant. I just hope you can let Charles go and set yourself free, too.

"He doesn't care about you anymore. If you keep holding on, we'll all just end up miserable."

"Entangled?" I nearly burst out laughing, as if Grace had just told the world's funniest joke. "Ms. Mitchell, where exactly did you see me clinging to him? It's Charles who's been acting like a rabid dog, chasing after me non-stop."

Grace's expression finally shifted. "Ms. Jameson, could you please show some respect? Charles isn't that kind of guy."

"Oh? Then what kind of guy is he?" I set my glass down, leaned forward, and locked eyes with her. "Is he the type who sleeps with me but keeps thinking about you? Or the kind who gets off on me while secretly treating me as your replacement?"

My words were like knives, stabbing right through her sweet little facade.

Her face flushed red, then turned pale. "You... you're lying!"

"You know perfectly well if I'm making this up," I sneered. "Ms. Mitchell, save your fake innocent act. It doesn't work on me.

"I'm here today for one reason. Charles? I don't want him anymore. If you want him, go ahead. He's all yours.

"But you'd better keep him on a tight leash. Don't let him come pestering me again. Otherwise..."

I paused, leaned in close to her ear, and whispered so only she could hear, "I'm afraid I might not be able to resist and just snatch him back."

After saying that, I straightened up, savoring the mix of shock and panic on her face, and flashed a satisfied smile. "Enjoy your coffee."

I got up and left the café with effortless grace.

The way to deal with a fake innocent is to out-fake her and make her lose her mind.