Chapter 3
I didn't hear Liam's answer.
The phone buzzed violently in my palm.
The moment I answered, the scream pierced my eardrum.
"Elena! Where the hell are you? The 5th Avenue penthouse needs servicing now! Are you trying to get yourself fired? If you aren't here in ten minutes, kiss your deposit goodbye! And last month's salary—it's gone!"
Two hours ago, I would have apologized immediately, even while burning with a fever.
I would have sprinted through the storm to the subway just to secure that two-hundred-dollar attendance bonus, all to scrape together enough for Liam’s physical therapy this week.
I would have knelt on rich people’s marble floors for a ten-dollar tip, scrubbing grout with a toothbrush until my hands were covered in chilblains that felt like needles under my skin.
For a fake blind man, I had lived like a dog.
"Speak! Cat got your tongue?" The supervisor was still roaring. "If you don't want the job, get out!"
I looked at my disheveled reflection in the shop window and suddenly smiled.
"Good. I quit."
Hang up. Block.
I took off the jacket that reeked of cheap detergent and tossed it into the nearest trash can.
The old Elena was dead.
The next day. The Cloud Summit Center, owned by the Thorne Group.
It was the epitome of vanity, hosting the "Annual Pioneer Design VIP Preview Gala."
I wore an old black dress and simply flashed a supreme access code on my phone to security—sent by Sebastian himself this morning.
After all, this was Thorne territory.
Inside, Chloe's voice drifted over the media scrum. "The inspiration truly came from my realization of 'rebirth'..."
Shameless. She was bragging about a concept stolen directly from my mother's manuscript.
Suddenly, her gaze swept the room like a viper, finally locking onto me in the corner.
"Oh my god! Security! Where is security?" Chloe shrieked theatrically. "How did this get in? The air is getting polluted!"
Every eye in the room stabbed toward me.
Chloe marched over, a pack of reporters trailing her like hungry wolves.
"Elena, are you here to steal? Or to trap a sugar daddy? How does a cleaner dare step foot in the Cloud Summit?"
The crowd chuckled.
"How did lowlife like that get in?"
"God, the poor are terrifying these days. They’ll crash anything."
"Call the police before she spreads germs."
Their malicious stares stuck to me like flies.
I tried to sidestep her to get to the main exhibit. But just as I moved, Chloe lunged. masking it as a turn, and shoved me hard.
"Go back to your sewer, you deaf rat!"
She used all her strength.
My center of gravity shifted instantly. I stumbled backward, out of control.
The sound exploded in the banquet hall like a gunshot.
My back slammed heavily into a glass display case. The star of the night—the "Tears of the Deep" blue diamond necklace—slid out.
It shattered on the floor.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the wreckage.
"Oh my god... that's the Tears of the Deep..."
"That's worth thirty million dollars..."
"It's over. She couldn't pay for that even if she sold her kidneys ten thousand times."
After the initial shock, Chloe's face bloomed with a twisted ecstasy.
She looked down at me, her voice dripping with bone-chilling mockery. "That was quite a fall, Elena."
I pushed myself up from the floor. My palm had been sliced by the debris, blood oozing out.
"You pushed me," I said.
"Who saw it?" Chloe looked around.
The so-called elites who had been whispering a moment ago now averted their eyes or looked on with amusement.
No one speaks for a cleaner. That is reality.
"Listen, Elena," Chloe leaned into my ear. "I can have security call the police right now. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison with millions in debt. Your dead mother's reputation will rot along with you."
"However..." She straightened up, her voice suddenly loud enough for the room to hear. "We are 'old friends,' after all."
She took a step back and spread her legs wide.
"Crawl through my legs right now, like a dog. While you crawl, shout 'I am a thief and a slut.' If you do that, I'll show mercy. I'll ask the organizers to let you go to jail without paying the damages."
"How about it? That's the greatest kindness I can offer."
Gasps rippled through the room. This wasn't just humiliation; it was skinning a person's dignity alive and stomping it into the dirt.
"Isn't that too much?" someone whispered.
"Shh, she's the future chief designer. Don't get involved."
Chloe looked at me smugly, waiting for me to wag my tail and beg.
"You wish," I said, my voice trembling with rage.
"Still stubborn?" Chloe’s face darkened. "Security! Press this crazy bitch down! Since she won't crawl herself, help her!"
Two burly guards rushed forward, roughly grabbing my shoulders and forcing me down.
Pain shot through me as my knees were forced to bend.
I lifted my head, staring dead into Chloe's twisted face, and screamed:
"I am Elena Sterling! I am Sebastian Thorne's betrothed!"
The air solidified for a second.
Then, laughter erupted, ten times louder than before.
"Crazy! She's actually crazy!"
"Desperate to marry rich? Sebastian Thorne marry a cleaner?"
"Joke of the year, hahaha!"
Chloe laughed until she teared up. "Fiancée? If you're Sebastian's fiancée, then I'm God! Go to a mental hospital for your delusions!"
Her smile vanished, revealing pure malice. "What are you waiting for? Shut her up!"
The guards put their weight on me, hands clamping over my head, the immense force nearly suffocating me.
Despair crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Just as my face was being forced toward Chloe's crotch—the crowd was suddenly torn apart by an invisible force.
A tall figure appeared at the end of the red carpet.
Sebastian Thorne.
A bespoke, pure black suit wrapped perfectly around his powerful frame.
The two aggressive guards saw him and froze as if their spines had been ripped out.
They turned pale, their hands shaking uncontrollably as they released me. "Mr... Mr. Thorne."
Sebastian looked at my disheveled state and the blood dripping from my hand. He frowned slightly.
His voice was low, lethal, and absolute.
"Who gave you the nerve to touch my fiancée?"
