Ch23 - Get cheated on

Violet’s heart was pounding as she rushed home, but Julian was nowhere to be found.

She pulled out her phone and texted him: Where are you? I need to talk to you—it’s urgent.

He replied almost immediately: Out with some friends. I’ll be back before midnight.

There were still three hours to go. She tried to distract herself, pacing, making tea—anything to keep busy. By 11:50, she was sitting in the living room, fidgeting. When the clock struck twelve, the door was still closed.

She knew she shouldn’t bother him. It was late, and even if Julian could help, he probably couldn’t do anything until morning anyway. But this wasn’t just anything—it was Lilia’s life on the line. If she could just talk to him tonight, maybe, she could get help faster.

She called him—no answer. Then she dialed Olie, the driver.

Before she could even speak, Olie jumped in. “Mrs. Ashford, I was just about to call you. Sir said he’d be out by eleven-thirty, but he hasn’t come out yet.”

Violet frowned. “Text me the address. I’m coming.”

She followed the address to a bar downtown. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Olie came to meet her. “Found him. He’s drunk and out cold. His friends helped me get him to one of the hotel rooms upstairs.”

Violet exhaled sharply. So this trip was pointless—he was asleep. Whatever she had to say would have to wait till morning.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Olie said politely, holding the car door open. “Should I take you home?”

She was about to nod when a voice called out behind her.

“HEY!”

Violet turned. A girl about her age stood under the building’s awning, arms crossed. She looked vaguely familiar, though the shadows covered most of her face.

The girl said, “You might wanna hurry. Your boyfriend’s about to get stolen.”

Boyfriend? Violet blinked. She only had a husband—WHO was this girl talking about?

Then the girl stepped out of the shadows, and Violet recognized her instantly—it was Harper, Tiffany’s friend, the one she’d seen that night when she was still working part-time.

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Violet asked, confused.

Harper groaned, marching over and grabbing her hand. “Ugh, no time to explain. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Wait.” Violet yanked her hand back, her tone guarded. “I don’t even really know you.”

Harper huffed and stomped her foot impatiently. “Tiffany’s already gone into your boyfriend Julian’s room! If you don’t go up there, you’re about to get cheated on!”

Tiffany? Violet’s face tensed immediately. What the hell was Tiffany doing here—and what did she have to do with Julian?

She hesitated for two seconds, then turned back toward Olie’s car.

“Hey! Seriously?” Harper called after her, sounding exasperated.

But then Harper froze—Violet wasn’t getting in the car. She was talking quietly to Olie, who handed her something, and then… she started walking back toward Harper.

Harper blinked, caught off guard.

“Well?” Violet said coolly. “Aren’t you supposed to show me the way?”

“Oh—uh, yeah. This way,” Harper stammered, recovering quickly and leading the way inside.

To the left, the way directly to the bar on the tenth floor. But Violet followed Harper to the right—toward the elevators that connected to the hotel above.

“So what made you change your mind? Didn’t you just say you barely knew me?” Harper asked curiously as they stood waiting for the elevator.

She glanced sideways at Violet. The woman looked like she’d rushed out—white slip dress, blue shawl thrown loosely over her shoulders, no makeup, but still effortlessly beautiful.

What really got Harper, though, was how calm she was. If her boyfriend were about to be stolen, she’d be flipping tables, not standing there cool as ice.

Violet’s tone was steady. “And what if what you said turns out to be true?”

If someone really had gone into Julian’s room without his knowledge… but if he did know, that was another matter entirely. Her chest felt tight just thinking about it.

The elevator dinged. She pushed the thought away and stepped in.

Harper noticed the card in Violet’s hand—it looked like a hotel keycard. Knew it, she thought. There was no way this woman’s relationship with Julian was “complicated” in the casual sense. You don’t just happen to have a key to a guy’s room.

As the doors slid shut, Harper bit her lip. “Look, I’ll just show you where it is, okay? I’m not going in. If Tiffany finds out I tipped you off, she’ll kill me.”

“Alright,” Violet replied simply.

Harper stole another glance at her, fighting the urge to spill everything.

Earlier that night, Tiffany had called her out of nowhere, saying there was a new bar packed with hot guys. Harper had tagged along, thinking it’d just be another girls’ night out. But when they got there, Tiffany handed her a paper bag filled with clothes and makeup and told her to wait in the lobby.

Tiffany went inside the bar alone. When She came back out shortly, her expression was a little off, but she brushed it off, saying she was “waiting for someone.”

An hour passed. Just as Harper was about to lose patience, Tiffany got a phone call.

Her tone turned giddy. “He’s drunk? …Room number? …Right side after the elevator? …Perfect, I’m on my way.”

Harper had frowned. “Wait, what are you doing? And why am I even here?”

“I told you,” Tiffany said with a smug little smile, flipping her hair. “I’m going to see Julian. Just wait—you’re looking at his next girlfriend.”

“What? Hold on—what about me? You dragged me here for this?”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Didn’t realize I had to babysit you. Go home if you’re bored.”

Harper clenched her jaw, trying not to snap. “I haven’t even had a drink yet, and I’ve been stuck here for hours—”

Before she could finish, Tiffany pulled a couple of crisp bills from her purse and slapped them against Harper’s chest. “Here. Cab fare. Keep the change.”

Harper just stared, wide-eyed. She couldn’t believe she was being tossed aside like some beggar on the street—but of course, she didn’t dare piss Tiffany off. If that woman really managed to hook some rich guy, crossing her would be suicide.

Tiffany snatched the paper bag out of her hands, spun on her heels, and strutted off without another glance.

Biting her lip, Harper bent to pick up the cash from the floor. When she looked up, Tiffany was at the corner, talking to some guy. He handed her something, and a moment later, she disappeared into the elevator—headed for the forty-second floor.

Outside, Harper had lit a cigarette, letting the cold air and mint smoke clear her head. The more she replayed that phone call, the more wrong it sounded—“He’s drunk?”—like the whole thing had been set up.

But what did it matter? It wasn’t her problem. She wasn’t stupid enough to interfere. Still, she couldn’t shake the irritation. Tiffany had always treated her like a damn accessory, and tonight was the last straw—she’d literally been brought along to hold bags.

When she ground the cigarette out, she pressed hard, as if snuffing out her anger with it.

She’d been about to call a cab when she suddenly spotted someone familiar—Violet.

After a quick, awkward explanation, Harper realized she’d guessed right. The second she mentioned Julian’s name, Violet’s eyes changed. So she was still his woman.

And the irony hit her—if Tiffany really managed to seduce Julian tonight, it’d be the second time she’d stolen someone Violet cared about.

If she were Violet, she’d want to tear Tiffany apart.