Though he wasn't exactly the kind of driver who never gave you a moment's worry, he at least did what was expected. Pickups and drop-offs were on time, and the car was always spotless.

But starting last month, things changed.

The day it began, Alfred came to pick me up and there was suddenly a woman caked in heavy makeup sitting in the passenger seat.

I stared, confused. Alfred hurried out to open my door and explained in a low voice:

"Ms. Pruitt, this is my girlfriend, Cara Fox. Her workplace is on the way to the office, so I figured I'd give her a ride."

I nodded and said nothing.

Giving someone a ride along the way wasn't a big deal.

But gradually, something started to feel off.

What was supposed to be "on the way" turned into a fixed, daily routine that never varied.

Every morning, Alfred picked up Cara first, then came for me.

At the start, Cara just liked snapping photos in the passenger seat and posting videos, showing off to people that she was riding in a Maybach.

I could understand that. She was young. A little vanity was normal.

What I couldn't understand was the look she gave me every single time. It was pure disgust, as though I owed her a million dollars.

A few times, after I got into the car, she sprayed perfume in my direction and complained loudly:

"God, this is so annoying. How does a car this expensive always reek of something cheap?"

I thought she'd actually smelled something off, so I specifically told Alfred to take the car in for a thorough deep clean and disinfection.

But she only got worse. Sometimes, after I stepped out, she'd spray disinfectant on the seat where I'd been sitting.

Other times, she'd lay a disposable seat cover over my spot before I even got in.

When I confronted Alfred about it, he always offered the same sheepish excuse in private:

"Ms. Pruitt, Cara's just worried the car isn't clean enough and might stain your clothes. She's particular about hygiene, that's all."

I didn't think much of it.

After all, I had too much on my plate every day. With projects worth hundreds of millions passing through my hands, I simply didn't have the energy to squabble with some young girl over petty nonsense.

Until this morning.

When I saw the note stuck to my usual seat, it all clicked.

Cara thought I was a freeloader.

I'd been planning to teach both Alfred and Cara a lesson.

But now Alfred was on his knees in front of me, begging relentlessly:

"Ms. Pruitt, I swear, it'll never happen again."

"I'll set Cara straight today. I'll never give her rides again."

"Please, my father's health isn't good. For his sake, forgive me this once."

The thought of Owen made me sigh. "Forget it."

"I'm dropping it."

After the officer left, Alfred let out a long, heavy breath of relief, thanking me over and over, his attitude suddenly impeccable.

I said nothing more. I got in the car and told him to take me to the office.

For a while after that, Alfred actually behaved.

Every time he came to pick me up, the passenger seat was empty. No sign of Cara.

The car had been cleaned, too. Every trace of that note had been scrubbed away.

His driving was still smooth. No issues there.

The only problem was that he kept showing up late.

And every time, he had an excuse:

"Sorry, Ms. Pruitt. There was an accident on the road. Traffic was backed up for a while."

"I'm really sorry, Ms. Pruitt. My alarm didn't go off. I overslept."

"Ms. Pruitt, a pipe burst in my apartment. I was dealing with the neighbors downstairs about the water damage, so I ran a little behind."

The excuses always sounded flimsy, but since his attitude was decent enough, I let it slide.

I thought that was the end of it.

Then one weekend, on a whim, I decided to spend a couple of days at the suburban villa for a little getaway.

I called Alfred. "Where are you right now? I need to go somewhere. Come pick me up."

He hemmed and hawed for a long time before finally answering, his voice careful and measured:

"Ms. Pruitt, I woke up this morning and found the car had a flat tire. I'm at the auto shop right now getting it fixed. The mechanic says it won't be ready until tomorrow."

"Where are you headed? I can call a car for you, if you'd like?"

I frowned, not wanting the hassle.

"Forget it. I'll grab a cab myself."

After hanging up, I hailed a ride to the suburban villa.

But when I arrived at the front gate, I froze.

My Maybach was parked right outside the villa. Completely intact.

I stared at it for several seconds. Once I confirmed it was definitely my car, I quickened my pace toward the front door.

It was ajar.

I pushed it open, and the sight inside knocked the air out of me.

The living room was destroyed.

The coffee table and floor were littered with empty bottles, fruit peels, sunflower seed shells, and cigarette butts. The sofa and carpet—worth hundreds of thousands of dollars—were covered in dirty footprints. In several spots, cigarette burns had eaten black holes straight through the fabric.

My fists clenched at my sides.

I had bought this villa specifically as a personal retreat. Every detail of the décor, every piece of furniture, had been chosen with care. I maintained it meticulously, treated it like a sanctuary. And now these people had turned it into a dump.

My gaze swept the room and landed on the couch directly facing the door.

Cara was sitting there, surrounded by a crowd.

"Cara, you're so lucky to have found such a powerful boyfriend."

"Right? Not just rich, but so good to you. You mentioned wanting roasted sweet potatoes and he ran out to buy them like a puppy."

"When you're a trophy wife, don't forget about us little people, okay?"

Cara's lips curled into a smug grin. She was about to respond when she glanced up and spotted me standing in the doorway.

Her smile vanished. She stood, her heels clicking against the floor as she strode toward me, chin raised.

Crack.

Without a word, she slapped me hard across the face.

"You shameless tramp. You followed my boyfriend here?"

The blow came out of nowhere. I stood rooted to the spot, my cheek burning.

Everyone in the room stared, wide-eyed.

"Cara, what's going on?"

Cara jabbed a finger at me, her face twisted with disgust.

"This is the freeloader I was just telling you about."

"Mooching rides off my boyfriend wasn't enough. Now she's shown up to mooch off his house."

I looked at her in disbelief.

"Who told you this is Alfred's house?"

Cara let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"He did. Told me himself."

"You pathetic little gold-digger. You found out my boyfriend is the CEO of the company, so now you're pulling every trick in the book to get close to him."

"Bumming rides every day, manufacturing excuses to be alone with him—that wasn't enough? Now you've come crawling to his villa to throw yourself at him?"

"Let me make one thing crystal clear. Alfred told me he only drives you to and from work because you're an employee at his company. He's being generous. Don't mistake his kindness for an invitation."

So that was the story Alfred had fed her.

No wonder Cara had always treated me like dirt.

In her mind, Alfred was the one who owned the luxury car and the villa. He was the CEO.

And I was just some employee who worked under him.

So all this time, Cara had believed I was the one mooching rides in Alfred's luxury car, shamelessly trying to seduce her boyfriend.

What a joke.

Cara turned to her friends and announced at the top of her lungs:

"You want to know how shameless this tramp really is?"

"She parks herself in my boyfriend's car every single day. You literally can't get rid of her!"

"I even left a note telling her to stop riding with him, and she threw a fit and called the cops, claiming he was harassing an employee."

"So my boyfriend had to start dropping me off at the office first, then double back just to chauffeur her around, all to protect the company's reputation."

"I have never in my life seen a more shameless piece of trash!"

My eyes went wide.

So that was why Alfred had been late picking me up every day.

He'd been sneaking off to drive Cara around first, then coming back for me.

Well played, Alfred. Well played.

You want to treat me like a fool? Then don't blame me for what comes next.

I pulled out my phone on the spot and dialed the legal department.

"Get a team to my villa at Peach Blossom right now—"

Before I could finish, Cara snatched the phone out of my hand and hurled it against the floor.

"God, you are unbelievable! How can one person be this full of it?"

"Your villa? This is my boyfriend's house!"

Her friends piled on, sneering and spitting venom:

"Classic gold-digger. Hasn't even landed the rich guy yet and she's already claiming his property."

"Some women are just born desperate. The second they smell money, they're on their knees begging like dogs. Disgusting."

"Cara, you're way too nice. If I ran into trash like her, I'd rip her lying mouth right off her face!"

Their words pumped Cara full of confidence. She grabbed my collar and yanked me close.

"Hear that? Everyone here agrees. You're nothing but trash."

Then her gaze dropped to my neck, and her eyes lit up.

"That jade pendant doesn't look cheap. Let me guess—you spread your legs for some sugar daddy to buy it?"

She grabbed the chain and ripped it off my neck.

The motion was so fast, so violent, I didn't even have time to react before the necklace was in her hand.

The blood drained from my face. "Give it back!"

My sudden panic only made her smile sharpen. She dangled the pendant just out of reach. "This nervous? Must be worth a fortune."

"It's worthless," I blurted, lunging for it. "But it means everything to me. Give it back. Now."

I grabbed for it, desperate.

That jade pendant was a protective charm my mother had given her life to obtain.

I'd been sickly since birth. When I was four, I was hospitalized in critical condition, unconscious and fading. The doctors told my parents to start making arrangements.

My mother refused to accept it. She went to a temple to pray for me.

To prove the sincerity of her devotion, she set out in the scorching heat of a hundred-degree summer and prostrated herself the entire way, one bow for every step, from the base of the mountain to its peak.

By the time she reached the top, her knees were torn to raw flesh, white bone visible beneath the blood. Her forehead was split open, her consciousness flickering. Only then was she granted the jade pendant.

Perhaps heaven itself was moved by what she'd done.

Against all odds, I woke up.

But my mother never recovered.

On her deathbed, she pressed the necklace into my palm and made me swear to keep it safe.

I had treasured it beyond measure ever since, carrying it with me every single day of my life.

It was the thing my mother traded her life for. It was sacred. Untouchable.

I would never let anyone destroy it.

"The more you want it back," Cara said, a cruel grin spreading across her face, "the more I want to smash it to pieces."