Chapter 2
“Vanessa,” Director Hodges’ voice came from behind her, “security will escort you out.”
Vanessa panicked instantly, but quickly resorted to threats. “Director Hodges, I’ll remind you—I’m in charge of the Beverly Hills acquisition. If I leave today, the company’s progress will grind to a complete halt.”
“Director,” I spoke up, “the company originally assigned Vanessa and me to lead this pitch together. I’ve already backed up all the core data on my own.”
“Vanessa, you’ve been complaining nonstop about how tough this case is, so I took the time to wrap it up for you. No need to thank me.”
Vanessa was left speechless with rage.
“Go settle your accounts in finance,” Hodges said. “If you have any issues, tell your lawyer to contact the legal department directly.”
“Alright, the show’s over. Everyone back to work!” he clapped his hands and called out to the room.
In my past life, I’d endured unspeakable suffering at that cocktail party. Now, watching Vanessa get fired, I thought it was for the best—I’d indirectly stopped her from going to that dangerous event, saving her life.
When Vanessa returned to the office, I followed her in.
She was frantically shoving her files and photo frames into a cardboard box, acting as if I wasn’t even there.
“Vanessa, now that you’re leaving, I’ll use my family’s connections to find you a better job as soon as possible…”
“Shut up, Claire!” Vanessa slammed her pen holder into the box with a shrill crash.
She spun around, her eyes fixed on me with a venomous glare. “Put away that condescending, charitable act of yours! You planned all this, didn’t you? Just to get me fired from the company! I don’t want your pity!”
“Vanessa, calm down. It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?!” Vanessa screamed, advancing on me step by step. “Where’s the Claire who always did everything I asked? Why won’t you help me now that I’ve been fired? Tell me!”
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat.
How could I explain it to her?
The horrific truth of my past life would sound like nothing more than a ridiculous excuse to cover my guilt to someone who’d never lived through it—she’d never believe a single word.
My hesitation and silence only confirmed Vanessa’s accusations in her eyes.
“Nothing to say, huh?” A look of bitter disappointment and resentment flashed across her face. “I see you for who you really are, Claire.”
Before I could speak again, she grabbed the box and stormed out of the office in a fury.
I felt a twinge of sadness for the rest of the day after Vanessa left. But by the afternoon of the next day, she was back in the company building.
Diana was leaning in to vent to me. “Claire, people like Vanessa deserve to be fired! She always puts her personal life first—who knows what she gets up to in private.”
Diana had never liked Vanessa, and she’d often told me she thought Vanessa was someone’s secret lover.
I was about to defend Vanessa when the office door burst open. Vanessa walked in with two police officers in tow.
She pointed at me and said to the officers, “Officers, this is the woman who stole my Tiffany diamond ring—worth fifty thousand dollars.”
Vanessa just wouldn’t let it go, insisting I’d stolen the valuable jewelry from her desk drawer.
“Officers, it’s true that we were the only two people in the office when she was packing up yesterday morning, but I stood right beside her the entire time. I never had a chance to rummage through her things.”
No matter how much I explained, the police took me into their squad car because of the large sum involved. On the way, I called my college friend Owen.
By the time I arrived at the police station to give my statement, Owen was there, and he’d brought the company’s surveillance footage. The video showed that I’d left the office right after Vanessa, empty-handed.
If I’d really stolen the ring, it would still be in the office. Two officers returned to the building to search, but the missing ring was nowhere to be found.
When the officers came back, Owen spoke up. “Officers, you can’t convict someone based on a single person’s word. What if she’s filing a false police report?”
Under pressure, the police turned to Vanessa and asked why she’d left such an expensive item in an unlocked drawer. She claimed she’d just bought it the day before.
“That’s easy to verify,” Owen said coldly. “Check her credit card statements, or contact the boutique directly to confirm the purchase from yesterday.”
“Ms. Claire, we’ll look into this. Just sign here and you’re free to go.” The officers’ tone toward me softened considerably.
“Officers, Vanessa has seriously damaged Ms. Claire’s reputation. She has a right to know the results of the investigation the moment they’re available,” Owen said.
The officers made no further objection and turned to contact the boutique to verify Vanessa’s purchase. Owen and I sat down in the police station lobby to wait.
Vanessa, meanwhile, was ordered to stay in the interrogation room.
The police worked efficiently, and when they returned with the results, they made a point of telling us: the boutique had no record whatsoever of Vanessa purchasing that ring.
The police would be conducting a formal interrogation of her next. It was clear the theft was nothing more than a ploy to frame me.
There was no point in waiting any longer, so Owen and I left the police station. I planned to ask Owen to investigate where the ring had really come from.
The next morning, I was woken up by a call from Owen.
“Claire! The ring is real!” Owen’s voice was mysterious. “A friend of mine at the police station found out through other channels. But she didn’t buy it herself.”
“Maybe her boyfriend bought it for her for their anniversary.”
“Boyfriend?” Owen added. “Vanessa’s actually married. Did you not know that?”
Strange—I’d met all the men she’d dated as her “boyfriends.” When had she gotten married?
Vanessa had tried to set me up, but she’d never imagined I’d uncover such a big secret about her in return.
Late that night, Julian came home after a business dinner. I stepped forward to take off his suit jacket, and the second the fabric brushed past me, I caught a whiff of a familiar perfume—Le Labo.
My hand faltered for a moment, but I forced myself to stay calm. It was a social event; it was only normal to accidentally pick up another woman’s perfume.
But when we lay down in bed, Julian reacted with an unusual coldness and avoidance to my touch.
Once he was fast asleep, I slipped out of bed and went back to the walk-in closet to check the suit he’d taken off.
I pulled a Tiffany shopping receipt out of the inner pocket. The amount was exactly fifty thousand dollars, and the date was October 14th.
Then it hit me—the familiar scent of Le Labo was Vanessa’s signature perfume.
A bone-chilling cold shot straight from the soles of my feet to my heart.
Could it be that the boyfriend Vanessa spoke of was no one else but my husband?
