Chapter 3

At ten that morning, right after I arrived at the office, the receptionist told me someone was waiting for me.

I walked out to the lobby and saw Zoe standing there. Next to her stood a man.

He looked modest and harmless, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a faded plaid shirt—the spitting image of a gentle, honest guy.

But I knew exactly who he was.

Liam Cole. Zoe's boyfriend.

In my last life, he was the one who worked with Zoe, handling the hidden camera footage and managing the sales.

Beneath that meek exterior, he was rotten to the core.

Right now, this "honest guy" stood in my office lobby, looking at me with an apologetic expression.

"Chloe, I'm so sorry for causing you trouble." His voice was soft, sounding genuinely remorseful.

Looking at him, I found it almost laughable.

"What did you just call me?" I arched an eyebrow.

Liam paused, glancing instinctively at Zoe.

Zoe hurried forward, putting on a sweet smile: "Chloe, this is my boyfriend, Liam. I told him what happened, and he thought I was completely out of line last night. He insisted on coming here to apologize to you in person."

"Apologize?" I leaned against the lobby wall, crossing my arms.

"Yes, absolutely. We're so sorry," Liam said, bowing respectfully. His attitude seemed flawless.

"Zoe was way too impulsive last night and said terrible things. She cried the entire night after we left, and I scolded her for it. Chloe, you're a bigger person than this. Please don't hold it against her."

Cried the whole night, huh?

More like you two laid in bed laughing the entire night.

Laughing at how naive and easy to manipulate I was.

"Great. Apology accepted. Now you can leave." I straightened up and turned to walk back inside.

"Chloe!" Zoe panicked, grabbing my arm.

Her grip was tight, her nails digging into my skin so hard it hurt.

"Chloe, I really have nowhere else to turn."

Her eyes welled with tears again, her voice cracking.

"Please, just help me out. You're my only friend in this city. I just need a couch to sleep on for a few days until I find a place..."

Her tears fell right on cue, streaming down her cheeks.

Passersby slowed down, staring at me as if I were a cold-hearted villain.

The young receptionist peeked over the desk, then quietly shrank back.

Colleagues around us began to whisper.

"Chloe is being way too harsh. The girl is literally crying."

"Seriously, they're supposed to be friends. Can't she lend a hand?"

"I heard her boyfriend already found a job. They just need a place for a couple of days."

Hearing their chatter, I smirked.

These colleagues, who barely exchanged two words with me on a normal day, were suddenly parading around as moral saints. They acted like they had a loudspeaker strapped to their chests, eager to call me ruthless.

People are always generous when it's not their own blood being spilled.

"Chloe."

My supervisor, Brenda, walked over from the elevators, frowning at me. "Your friend is clearly in a bad spot. Can't you just help her out? It's not that big of a deal."

Not that big of a deal?

I almost laughed out loud.

"Brenda," I turned to her with a polite smile, "don't you have two spare bedrooms in your house? Why don't you take her in?"