Roughneck

There was a new employee in the company. On her first day, she posted a photo in the group chat. It was a purchase contract for a mansion worth 500 million.

The group exploded in an instant. “Oh my God! A 500-million-dollar contract? Am I seeing this right?”

Grace Wayland quickly deleted the photo and apologized, “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and sent it to the wrong group by mistake.”

Afterward, she sent out several emojis to indicate how sorry she was. “I’ll make sure to be more careful next time.”

She concluded with a pitiful meme. From that moment, everyone in the company knew who Grace was.

“Is that the villa by Lake Philips?”

“My goodness! So this is what a 500-million-dollar contract looks like.”

“Rumor has it that President Mayford bought his daughter a house today—right by Lake Philips.”

“Could Grace be President Mayford’s daughter?”

“There aren’t many rich families in Heronville. It can’t just be a coincidence.”

“Five hundred million! That’s enough to work like a dog for three lifetimes.”

The chat exploded with hundreds of messages.

Sitting at the desk opposite mine, Grace looked at the messages with a triumphant expression.

Much later, she responded in the group, “I can’t reveal my identity yet, but I can say one thing—I took my mother’s surname. Please don’t spread this around. If my dad finds out my identity is exposed, he won’t be happy.”

By not outright denying it, she practically confirmed it in everyone’s eyes.

I had no intention of involving myself in such gossip, but the group chat was buzzing so much that even my husband, Max Underwood, joined in, playfully begging to cling to the wealthy "sugar mommy".

I pretended not to care, but my hands couldn’t stop trembling. Feelings bought with money were worth less than dust.

I zoomed in on the photo Grace shared. On the contract for the Lake Philips villa, the house had a unique number. The last four digits stood out. At a glance, I knew it was my house.

My father, Leon Mayford, had gifted me the villa for my birthday, choosing this particular property because the last four digits matched my birthday.

Just as I was about to raise a question in the group, I was interrupted.

Max placed several cups of coffee on the table, carefully selecting one. After wiping off the condensation, he handed it to Grace with both hands.

Grace took a sip, only to spit it out with a grimace of disgust. “What is this? Don’t bring me such lousy filth again.”

Max froze, but surprisingly, instead of losing his temper as he would at home, he nodded and apologized humbly, “It’s my fault for not checking first. Someone like you must drink something of much higher quality!”

A bitter taste filled my heart. At home, he wouldn’t even help with the laundry without endless nagging.

Unable to stand Grace’s arrogance, I spoke calmly, “Grace, where exactly is your new villa in Lake Philips?”

The lively office instantly fell silent.

Grace glared at me. “What do you mean by that? Are you doubting the authenticity of my contract? Do I need to wear it on my chest to prove it’s mine?”

Sensing Grace’s anger, Max chimed in. “Emily, don’t be ridiculous. What has Grace done to deserve this from you?”

Colleagues also sided with her.

“These days, people are so unbelievable, questioning someone over a photo!”

“Exactly, Grace shared it by accident—it’s not like she was showing off.”

“Emily, if you’re jealous, just buy one yourself! Though looking at you, I doubt you can afford one in this lifetime.”

Grace was dressed in designer brands from head to toe, exuding elegance. In contrast, I wore simple, ordinary clothes.

Grace turned to me, feigning magnanimity. “Thank you all for speaking up for me. Emily must just be curious since she’s never seen anything like it. It’s perfectly normal to have questions. Forgive her for my sake.”

The moment she said this, Max’s face darkened, clearly embarrassed by me.

What a joke. Despite being the heiress of the Mayford Group, I now faced mockery in my own company.

After graduation, I married Max, my college sweetheart. Starting as a grassroots employee and hiding my identity was my father’s idea. He wanted me to gain experience and understand every aspect of the Mayford Group from the ground up.

Judging by Grace’s taste and attire, she didn’t come from a poor family either. She must’ve gone to great lengths to obtain my purchase contract and impersonate me.

An idea struck me. Feigning innocence, I said, “You’re right. I haven’t seen anything like it before. Why don’t you invite us to your house, Grace? Let us ordinary folks broaden our horizons.”

As our colleagues’ eyes lit up, clearly intrigued, Grace’s expression instantly darkened.