Chapter 3

Zoey clung to my arm, squeezing it as if we were close friends. But I could clearly see the taunting look in her eyes.

I withdrew my hand and dismissed everyone else. Now, only Zoey and I were left in my office.

As soon as everyone was gone, she immediately pulled her hand back and grumbled, "Ugh, you reek like an old woman."

The moment her words fell, she clasped her hand to her mouth. Her gaze darted around wildly, feigning fear as she whimpered, "Ms. Jones, I didn't mean it that way! It's all Mr. Grant's fault… He's been saying that all the time, and I couldn't help it. You'll forgive me, right?"

Malice flared in her eyes—she didn't look the slightest bit sorry.

Seeing I was unfazed, Zoey pushed further. She slipped one side of her shoulder out of her shirt, revealing several hickeys as she continued smugly, "Ms. Jones, look how shameless Mr. Grant is. He totally wore me out. I'll have to cover these up for the entire week!

"I really envy you. You can wear whatever you want—unlike me. If I so much as show my shoulder, Mr. Grant gets jealous. When we went to the hot spring last time, he wrapped me up in a towel like a burrito whenever someone passed by.

"Why is he so petty, huh?"

I spotted the broken photo frame on the floor.

"Well, you're his latest pet," I replied nonchalantly. "Of course he's going to be a little possessive."

Zoey's expression changed. She glowered at me, but I flashed her an unbothered smile.

After all, I was more than familiar with the version of Julian she described. So no matter how much she bragged, it didn't faze me.

I was zoning out and didn't notice the sudden shift in her expression.

Zoey suddenly grabbed my hand—and in the next instant, she threw herself backward, crashing hard to the ground.

Before I could react, a furious voice sounded behind me.

"Noelle, what the hell are you doing?"

Someone whizzed past me, shoving me hard on the shoulder. I barely managed to steady myself by grabbing the edge of the table.

Julian helped Zoey up and shot me a scathing glare.

"Apologize to her," he ordered.

My knuckles turned white as my grip on the table tightened.

"I didn't push her."

Julian snorted. "Sure, you didn't. As if I'd believe she threw herself on the floor for fun! You're 30, yet you're still pulling these petulant stunts. Don't you feel pathetic?"

A sting hit my nose, and my eyes reddened. Why did he have to keep reminding me of my age?

Did he think I was too old for him now and preferred someone younger? Then why wouldn't he just break up with me?

Resentment flared in my eyes as I clenched my jaw, refusing to appear weak in front of him.

A smirk crossed Zoey's face. Buried in Julian's arms, she sniffled and said, "Mr. Grant, please don't blame Ms. Jones. That VP spot was supposed to be hers. It makes sense that she hates me.

"Maybe I should just leave the company."

Julian tightened his hold around her and said coldly, "This company isn't under the Jones family. Without my permission, no one can make you leave. I won't tolerate anyone targeting you, either."

His implication was clearly directed at me.

I scoffed and shot back, "Then why don't you fire me instead?"

With a loud smack, my face jerked to the side. A searing pain bloomed across my cheek.

The room fell dead silent.

I raised my hand slowly and touched my left cheek, staring at Julian in disbelief. This was the first time he had ever hit me in ten years—and it was for his new fling.

He stared at his own hand, clearly dumbfounded. His palm tingled, and his entire hand was trembling uncontrollably as he gawked at me.

When Julian saw the swelling on my face, he extended his hand toward me and began, "Noelle…"

I stepped back, dodging his hand.

He froze.

Just then, Zoey cried out and collapsed into his arms. "Mr. Grant, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much!"

That snapped him out of it. He scooped her up in his arms and rushed out.

I closed my eyes. Right then, my phone buzzed.

Seeing the message, I took a deep breath and left the company. As soon as I got home, I packed up all my things. I didn't even leave behind a speck of dust.

When I tossed the last bag into the trash, my phone started buzzing nonstop.

"Ms. Jones, does your face still hurt? Mr. Grant's always this rough—he makes me so sore every single time. Make sure you ice it.

"But I have to say, the way he massages my feet is still quite gentle…"