A mistress confronting her successor—I felt like I was in a daytime drama,

and all I could do was laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

Just as my laughter faded, a muffled snicker echoed from behind me. I spun

around, my heart skipping a beat, only to meet the gaze of a man with a

naughty smile and a leather jacket, leaning casually against the wall. “Mrs.

Ferguson’s taste in drama is… unique,” he remarked, with a hint of mischief in

his eyes.

Caught eavesdropping, I felt a twinge of guilt, but it quickly dissipated. “Aren’t

you doing the same?” I retorted.

The man smiled. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Well, you have now.” Our banter was cut short as I scrutinized him. “And you

How do you know

He straightened up, shedding his carefree demeanor as

nod, said, “Mrs. Ferguson, until

again.”

another word, he walked away, only to grab Dorothy,

ponytail. “Dorothy, with

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the sideline,

with

in anger. “What do

term from you again,

her go, casting a

as if he was about to reveal the truth to his “girl,” but instead,

why you’re

quick mental rundown

was, dressed down

Gladys’ 80th birthday bash.

then, my phone

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