Chapter 4

I gnashed my teeth and glared at Quinn.

With a smug smile on her lips, she pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down before digging out a folder from her bag and smacking it down on the table.

"I've already seen the Porsche. It's pretty nice."

Rapping her knuckles against the table, she continued with an air of self-righteous confidence, "Since we're about to marry, your money is mine. Hurry up and sign this agreement, then head to the DMV with me tomorrow to transfer ownership of the car to me.

"I'm just a poor, defenseless woman, so you can't expect me to squeeze onto a subway train every day while my husband drives a luxury car, right? Besides, I'm the director of a company! I have my pride and dignity!"

At that moment, our janitor, an older man, charged over with his mop. He shot me a superior look before lecturing me in the annoying way of someone who thought that being older gave them the right to talk down to someone younger.

"Jackson Whitman, my daughter is now the director of this company! You should feel honored and blessed that she would even take an interest in you! Once you marry, you'll belong to her completely. Think of that car and what little wealth you possess as the bride price you're paying us for getting her hand in marriage!

"To become part of our family, you must be obedient! Now, quickly sign the papers and hand over the car key!"

For a moment, I simply stared at the repulsive father-daughter duo. Taking a deep breath, I answered, "And what if I refuse to sign?"

"You won't sign it?" Quinn scoffed coldly, her eyes taking on a sinister gleam. "Jackson, you'd better cooperate with us. Otherwise, I certainly have ways to completely destroy your reputation and turn you into the laughingstock of society!"

"You're going to destroy my reputation?" I let out a furious bark of laughter, ripped the ridiculous agreement into scrap paper, then tossed the pieces at Quinn's face. "With what? Those few fake photos of yours? Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

"Fine! Since you insist on doing this the hard way, you have no one else to blame but yourself for what happens next!"

With that, she spun on her heel and rushed toward the central AV control console at the front of the office that was normally used to control the projector screen typically used for the company's morning meetings.

She shoved aside the admin in charge of the console before linking her own phone to it.

"Everyone, come take a look at just how shameless of a simp the usually cold and aloof Jackson Whitman is when in private!"

Following her furious yell, the massive projector screen lit up.

At first, the image on the screen shook and jerked around, but it quickly stabilized.

The recording appeared to be dashcam footage from inside a car—none other than a Porsche Panamera! In fact, it was identical to the one I had just picked up yesterday, even including the limited-edition blind box figurine I had placed on the dashboard on a whim!

My heart sank to my feet as a bad feeling rose in me.

The video began to play, showing the passenger door opening before a man dressed in the exact same suit I had worn today slid into the car.

To my immense shock, when he turned his head to reveal his face, I saw "myself" staring back at me!