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

do

Ford.” He straightened up, shedding his carefree demeanor

a nod, said, “Mrs. Ferguson,

again.”

only to grab Dorothy,

for trouble, by her ponytail. “Dorothy, with your kind of

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the sideline,

quipped with mean

furrowed her brows in anger. “What do

term from you

her go, casting a meaningful

he was about to reveal the truth to his “girl,”

smirked, “That’s why you’re

quick mental rundown

dressed

Gladys’ 80th birthday bash.

then, my phone

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