Chapter 5
When I got home, it wasn’t even mealtime, but the table was already set, dishes steaming.
Right in the center was a huge plate of shrimp my favorite. Tom was allergic to seafood, and it hit me: I hadn’t eaten shrimp in seven years.
The moment my mom saw me, tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Let’s eat first,” she said, brushing them away, like she didn’t want to ruin the moment.
I nodded, sitting down. It had been so long since I’d tasted my mom’s cooking that I’d forgotten what it was like. But the second I took a bite, memories came rushing back.
Blinking fast, I swallowed hard, holding back tears as I quietly kept eating.
“What’s all the crying about?” My dad’s voice came from the living room.
He walked in, stiff and cold, his coat still carrying the chill of winter.
“Crying, crying, always crying,” he said sharply. “I warned you this would happen, but no -you just had to go your own way. Determined to marry that guy, and now look at you. Crying over the mess you made.”
“Enough!” my mom snapped, nudging him hard. “Who hasn’t made mistakes when they were young? Say one more word, and you can leave.”
He waved her off but turned to me, stern as ever. “Selene, you can’t just cry your way through life. How many years do you think your mom and I have left? Do you even have what it takes to run my company?”
His words hit hard, but he wasn’t wrong. As the Spencer family’s only daughter, I was never meant to just play house in a marriage alliance.
Seven years ago, I’d been studying financial management, dead set on taking over.
I set my cutlery down, stood, and faced them.
“Dad, Mom, I know I was wrong,” I said, my voice steady and my eyes locked on my father. Determination flared in my chest.
“Teach me, Dad. I’m ready. I can do this.”
I moved through the gala in a tailored suit, wine glass in hand, slipping seamlessly through
the crowd.
Rest wasn’t an option tonight. My job was to circulate, make connections, and handle whatever came my way.
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Dad stayed close, guiding me through introductions while I studied him. The way he worked the room–sharp, calculated, always in control–was a masterclass in networking. I mimicked him, practicing as I went.
This gala had a singular purpose: to announce my official return as the Spencer heiress and the future head of SP Corp.
Most guests were polite, sticking to empty small talk. But, of course, there were always a few who came with knives.
“Ms. Spencer,” a middle–aged man drawled, his voice just loud enough to turn heads, “so eager to run off for love, weren’t you? Now that you’re divorced, what’s brought you crawling back?”
His words hung in the air as curious eyes turned toward me.
I paused just long enough to recall his name from the guest list. Mr. Jahn. One of my practice targets–low–tier, harmless, and ultimately forgettable.
Dad had definitely overthought this. Letting someone like him in only lowered the bar for the evening.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled. “Everyone has their wild, reckless phase. Now that I’ve calmed down, I’m focused on my career. But you-
Before I could finish, a familiar voice cut in.
“Mr. Jahn, with that attitude toward tonight’s host, I’m starting to question your abilities.”
I turned to see Tom stepping in front of me.
Wait–Tom? Was he even on the guest list?
I froze, stealing a glance at my dad across the room. He was watching, stone–faced.
So, this was his test. He didn’t think I could handle it alone and brought Tom here to see how I’d deal with him.
Tom kept defending me, radiating that overconfident CEO energy. “Mr. Jahn, it seems, we’ll need to reconsider our partnership.”
Mr. Jahn went pale in an instant. Clearly, he’d tried to score points with Tom by putting me down, only to have it blow up in his face.
Stammering, he scrambled to apologize, practically groveling. Tom stood off to the side, clearly expecting some gratitude from me.
After politely accepting Mr. Jahn’s apology, I turned to Tom.
“Mr. Luke,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice, “you and your business partner seem
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to share a common trait.”
Tom’s smug expression faltered.
I went on. “You’re both experts at making everything about yourselves.”
A sharp laugh cut through the awkward silence, and Tom’s face turned red with embarrassment.
I glanced over to see Tyler, casually holding a cupcake and biting his fork, trying to hide his
amusement.
When the crowd turned to stare, he quickly wiped the smirk off his face, gave me a small nod, and said, “My apologies.” Then he calmly wandered off to the seating area, unbothered as ever,
Always a contrast, always Tyler.
I raised my glass toward Tom with a polite smile. “If you’ll excuse me.‘
I had to admit, the cupcake Tyler was holding looked seriously tempting.
I loved cupcakes–like, really loved them.
Fine. One cupcake before diving back into the party.
When Tyler saw me heading his way, I caught a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. Naturally,
I ignored it and plopped down at the farthest seat from him.
The cupcake was tiny, barely the size of my palm, and I hadn’t even finished half of it before trouble showed up.
I’d just taken a second bite when Fonda appeared, sliding into the seat next to me.
She was dressed to kill in a red gown, dripping with sultry confidence.
“Selene,” she said, her voice low, her red lips curling into a fake smile, “you’re divorced. Let it go already. Putting on this whole act–don’t you find it disgusting?”
I was so mad, I actually laughed. Leaning back into the couch, I smirked. “Care to explain what act I’m supposedly putting on?”
Her glare sharpened. “You know exactly what I mean. Inviting Tom to your big comeback party–don’t act like you don’t know what message that sends.”
I stared at her, caught between laughing again or telling her off right then and there.
What message?
Fonda had the audacity to be a homewrecker and still act like everyone wanted to be her.
Chapter 5
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“You and Tom really are perfect for each other, I said, watching confusion flicker across
her face.
I let it hang there for a second before delivering the rest. “Self–absorbed and attention- seeking.”
She froze for a moment, her fake smile gone as anger took over. Her eyes burned, like she was seconds away from causing a scene.
Calmly, I stood. “Don’t lose your mind at my party.”
The cupcake was still sitting in my hand, but my appetite had vanished. Without a second thought, I tossed it in her direction.
“Didn’t you want my things? Here. Enjoy.”
I hadn’t been gone long before I spotted Tom in the seating area, standing in front of Fonda. He leaned in, saying something to her.
It didn’t take long for Fonda’s eyes to find mine, brimming with venom.
I didn’t flinch. I met her glare head–on, even raising my glass with a small, knowing smile.
Trash will always be trash.
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