Chapter 3

Shame and pain hit me like a tidal wave. My arms were wrenched behind my back. Someone grabbed my hair and shoved my head down.

I summoned every ounce of strength, jerked my head up, and croaked, "I'm Vivian Linley, the sole heir of Linley Group. Richard Linley is my father."

There was a brief silence, and then the mocking laughter grew even louder.

"She says she's the heiress of Linley Group," someone sneered.

"The richest man in the country is her dad? Is she crazy, or did she get so messed up she's talking nonsense now?" another scoffed.

"Oh, please. If you're the Linley heiress, then I'm the President," someone else jeered.

Sophie was laughing so hard that she was doubled over, tears streaming down her face.

She sneered, "The Linley heiress? Haven't you heard? The real Linley heiress is the young lady of Grand Crest Hotel and she's engaged to my brother, Charles. I won't even waste my breath telling you to call your billionaire dad.

"If you're so powerful, why not have your 'fiancé' come out and put us in our place? Seriously, you couldn't make up a crazier story if you tried. I'm dying over here!"

Just as I was drowning in humiliation, a familiar figure strode over. It was Edward.

He was dressed to the nines in a sharp suit, looking every bit the gentleman. When he saw me, a flicker of surprise and pity crossed his eyes. "Vivian, Sophie, what's going on here?"

He glanced at the mess and me being pinned to the floor, his brows furrowing. Then he looked down at me, his tone full of condescension. "Vivian, how did you end up like this? Did you get yourself into trouble again?"

He added, "But if you just ask me for help, and beg me, maybe I'll help you out, for old times' sake. Maybe I'll even take care of the mess for you—"

Before he could finish, a sudden commotion broke out near the hotel entrance. The onlookers quickly parted, making a path.

"That looks like Charles Summers. Wow, he's really tall and ridiculously good-looking!" someone murmured.

"No kidding. He's an elite raised by a top-tier family. Of course, his vibe is on a whole different level," someone else muttered.

A devastatingly handsome man strode in, dressed in a perfectly tailored jet-black designer suit.

His eyes fixed on me, and the instant he saw me pinned to the floor, disheveled and desperate, his expression darkened to something downright terrifying. "What do you think you're doing?"

His voice was sharp and cold as a blade dipped in ice, cutting through the raucous laughter. Instantly, the entire hotel lobby fell silent.

With just a few long strides, he was standing right in front of me. Those deep, piercing eyes swept over everyone holding me down, and when he spoke, his words were glacial.

"Let her go." His order was simple, but there was no room for argument.

The hands clutching my arms recoiled instantly.

Sophie's smug grin froze. She went pale as a ghost and instinctively stumbled half a step back, her lips quivering.

"Ch-Charles..." The name barely escaped her throat, like a faint, terrified whisper.

Her gang of sycophants couldn't hold back anymore.

"Come on, Sophie! Your brother's here. Why don't you tell him to kick this nobody out for us?"

"Why you so freaked out, Sophie? Weren't you always bragging that your brother would do anything for you?"

"We're just punishing this girl for causing trouble at the hotel," one of the group snickered.

"Charles, just kick this pathetic chick out already," Sophie encouraged herself and urged.

Charles glanced at my coat, which was stained with spilled wine and bits of broken glass. He pressed his lips together, worry in his voice. "Vivian, you're still the same as when we were kids—always getting yourself hurt."

I hummed, staring up at his impossibly handsome face.

Only now did I finally let myself believe it. He was Charles, the neighbor boy who used to follow me everywhere back then.

Before I could even get a word out, he shrugged off his expensive designer suit jacket and draped it over my ruined shoulders without a moment's hesitation.

His movements were gentle, as if I were something precious he couldn't bear to see damaged.

"Charles..." I whispered, clutching his jacket a little tighter.

When Sophie saw Charles, her face turned white as a sheet. All that smugness and sharpness she had just moments ago vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but undisguised panic.

She forced a shaky smile, but her voice wobbled. "Don't get the wrong idea, Charles. It was her. She broke some wine at the hotel and was pretending to be some big shot—"

"Pretend to be what?" Charles interrupted, his voice cold enough to cut glass.

"Sophie, are you seriously telling me that my fiancée, the only daughter of Richard Linley, Vivian Linley, needs to pretend to be anyone?"

His icy stare swept across Sophie and her little crew.

Finally, his gaze locked onto Edward, who was scrambling to explain himself. Charles's voice sank, dark and dangerous. "Who gave you the nerve to treat my fiancée this way?"

Sophie let out a strangled scream, staring at me in utter disbelief, and then back at Charles, her face drained of all color.

She shouted, "No freaking way, Charles! You're totally being duped. She's just some broke chick who runs takeout orders. Everyone knows her as Vivian, Edward's girlfriend. How could someone like her ever be your fiancée?

"She's been hustling as a delivery girl for two whole years. I've known her way before all this. Someone like her being the Linley heiress? Give me a break!"

Edward was totally blindsided by this bombshell about my true identity.

He glanced at Charles, who was standing in front of me like my personal shield, and then at the expensive—now grimy—designer jacket hanging from my shoulders. Finally, he caught the sharp glare of concern and anger in Charles's eyes.

Suddenly, an absolutely crazy but undeniable thought crashed into Edward's mind.

"Vivian... you..." For a moment, Edward looked me up and down as if we were complete strangers. His gaze anxiously hunted for some hint of the "Linley heiress" beneath my messy exterior.

To his utter disbelief, he realized that I actually bore an uncanny resemblance to Richard Linley, the chairman of Linley Group.

"Vivian..." Edward stood there, devastated, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. His voice was ragged, filled with the sting of betrayal and an edge of panic he couldn't hide.

He shouted hysterically, "Just tell me what the hell is going on!

"So you've been faking it for two whole years? You're some rich princess, but you played poor just to mess with me? Was it fun watching me run in circles like an idiot, begging you for crumbs like a stray dog? Did it make you feel powerful?

"And what's up with you and Charles? Why the hell is he calling you his fiancée?"

"Say something! Answer me!"

Edward sounded like he was the real victim here, all aggrieved and dramatic, as if he'd been the only one lied to and betrayed.

Guys like him, who were so cold and selfish, never looked back at their own little two-year scam pretending to be disabled.

I hugged Charles's warm jacket closer. Just looking at Edward made my skin crawl.

The mix of rain and tears had dried long ago; all that remained was a cold, razor-sharp clarity in my mind.