Chapter 2

The slap came fast, but I was faster. 

I caught her wrist mid-air, and with a swift, fluid motion, I delivered a sharp backhand directly across her face. 

Smack.

Monica's head snapped to the side. Her champagne glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the floor and splashing sticky wine all over her bare ankles. 

The crowd gasped, staring at me in absolute horror. 

"Oh my god! How dare she strike Miss Monica?"

"When Mr. Graham finds out, he's going to tear her to pieces!"

"Even God himself can't save her now."

Listening to their frantic whispers, I felt absolutely nothing. The Graham family only had their current status and wealth because of my family's backing. In all of London, there wasn't a single person who could make me afraid.

"You bitch!" Monica shrieked, her face twisted into pure, murderous rage. "Did you just hit me?! I'm going to let my brother kill you! I'll have your hands broken!"

She lunged at me like a rabid dog. But her heels violently skidded on the champagne-soaked marble. With a sharp yelp, her legs flew out from under her, and she crashed hard onto the floor. 

Sprawled on the ground and panting heavily. Her trembling hand flew up to soothe her stinging cheek. 

Then, she froze. Her fingers moved from her cheek to her earlobe.

"My earring!" she screamed. "My pink diamond earring! It's gone!"

She whipped her head toward me, pointing a shaking finger. "You snatched it when you hit me! It’s worth a hundred thousand pounds, and you stole it!"

"I didn't touch your jewelry," I said flatly.

"Liar! You were the only one close enough!" Monica yelled. "You broke, pathetic thief! You snuck in here to steal!"

The crowd instantly turned on me. 

"I knew it," the woman in the red dress muttered loudly. "Look at what she's wearing. She's obviously a grifter."

"Call security!" a man in the back shouted. "Strip search her before she swallows it!"

"Absolutely shameless. Trying to steal from a Graham."

"What the hell is going on here?" 

A deep, annoyed voice cut through the noise. The crowd parted instantly. 

A man strode into the circle. Custom-tailored charcoal suit, perfect posture, sharp jawline. I looked at his face. So that's Phil Graham, I thought. My father wasn't lying about his looks. 

But the moment he opened his mouth, any trace of appeal vanished.

"Phil!" Monica burst into dramatic sobs. She threw herself against his chest, burying her face in his lapel. "Phil, thank god you're here! This crazy bitch hit me and stole my diamond earring! You have to do something!"

Phil wrapped an arm around Monica protectively. When he looked up at me, his eyes were lethal. 

"You dare put your hands on her?" he snarled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. 

Before I could even brace myself, he closed the distance between us. 

Smack. Smack.

Two vicious, heavy slaps snapped my head to the side. The metallic taste of blood instantly bloomed in the corner of my mouth.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, but no one stepped forward. 

Phil sneered, pulling out a pocket square to wipe his hand as if touching my skin had soiled him. 

"That's for touching my sister," he spat coldly, tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

He looked down at me with absolute contempt. "I don't know how the hell you snuck in here, but you're in no position to act arrogant. Hand over the earring and get out of my sight, before I have security break your legs."

I slowly turned my head back, ignoring the burning pain in my cheeks. I wiped the blood from my lip and looked dead into his eyes. 

"You are going to pay for this," I said, my voice eerily calm. 

Phil let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Pay? You?"

I didn't break eye contact. "You must be Phil Graham."

"And?" he snapped.

"I'm Joyce Byers," I said evenly. "When your father begged my family for this marriage arrangement, he forgot to mention his precious heir was an uncultured thug."

The room went dead silent. 

Then, Phil scoffed, looking at me like I was a dying bug on his shoe. "Marriage arrangement? Are you out of your mind? If you want to marry someone because of some ancient favor, go marry my dad." 

"I don't know what kind of delusional scam you're running, but let me make this clear: women line up around the block to marry into the Graham family. We don't take in street trash."

Monica clung tighter to his arm. She tilted her head, smirking at me from his shoulder. 

"Look at her, Phil. She's a freak. As if you'd ever touch someone who looks like a Victorian ghost."

The crowd erupted into laughter.

"Exactly," the woman in pearls sneered, eager to score points with Phil. "Phil Graham marrying a nobody? She couldn't even get a job scrubbing the toilets at Graham Real Estate."

"She's completely delusional. Just arrest her already."

I stood tall, smoothing out my velvet dress. I wasn't angry anymore. I was just done. 

I looked right at Phil. 

"Listen carefully, Phil Graham," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the laughter like a knife. 

"It’s not that you won't agree to this engagement. It’s that I—Joyce Byers—am canceling it."

I paused, letting my last name hang in the air. 

"You," I said, looking him up and down with the exact same disgust he had shown me. "Are not good enough for me."