I fell asleep in Andrew's office.

When I woke up, I realized there were several large characters stamped across my face.

[Pork Quality: Grade One.]

Andrew's secretary, Hazel, was holding a pork inspection stamp, smiling at me with open provocation.

"A pampered socialite like you should just stay at home and be a decorative vase," she sneered. "Stop coming to the company and interfering with our work."

I smashed the cup on the spot.

Shards of porcelain scattered through the air like starlight, flying straight toward Hazel.

The very next second, Andrew rushed in almost at a run, pulling her completely into his arms to shield her.

He frowned at me, impatience tightly restrained in his voice.

"Jade! Hazel is still young. She was just joking with you. Is it really necessary to get this angry?"

My gaze locked onto the open collar of Andrew's shirt.

On his collarbone was a faint but unmistakable red mark.

And he hadn't come home for three consecutive nights, claiming to be working overtime.

Hazel peeked out from behind him, stuck out her tongue, and spoke in an innocent tone.

"Andrew was worried I'd get bored, so he specially had people make lots of stamps for me to pass the time."

"I was just joking with Ms. Jade. She wouldn't be so petty, right?"

——

I didn't respond to Hazel.

I kept staring at the red mark on Andrew's collarbone, feeling as though all the blood in my body had turned ice-cold.

I opened my mouth, but my throat was dry.

"Andrew," I asked hoarsely, "what is that?"

He froze for a moment, then followed my gaze downward. His expression changed instantly.

Almost instinctively, he took a step toward me. His lips parted, about to speak—

"I did it."

Hazel's voice cut in—quick, crisp, carrying a hint of coquettish complaint.

Andrew stopped in his tracks. But his eyes stayed on me as he raised his brows and smiled.

"The last time Andrew had a meeting that lasted four hours, I was so bored waiting beside him."

"So I stamped him too—as punishment."

Somehow, Andrew was amused. He lifted his hand and patted Hazel on the head helplessly.

"You still have the nerve to say that? You did it right in front of the entire board of directors. You nearly made me lose all face."

The office suddenly became eerily quiet.

All I could hear was the buzzing in my ears.

Andrew had always indulged me in everything—except for one thing he never compromised on.

Work.

His attitude toward work was nearly ruthless. He never allowed anyone to interrupt him.

And now, he had learned to break his own rules to amuse another girl.

Bitterness spread from my chest to my throat.

Before I could speak, soft chatter drifted in from outside the door.

"They say President Martin's wife is in the office. I really want to see what she looks like!"

"I heard when President Martin proposed, there were flowers stretching for ten miles, and 520 drones turned into a meteor shower spelling out her name in the sky."

"I'm so jealous. President Martin has treated her the same for ten whole years. I happen to be delivering documents—maybe I can sneak a peek!"

The girls reached the doorway and were surprised to find the door wide open.

When they lifted their heads, they saw my face.

The meticulous makeup I'd put on before coming out was probably completely overshadowed by those humiliating characters stamped across my skin.

The chatter came to an abrupt halt.

Their smiles were still frozen on their lips, but their eyes had gone stiff.

The entire room fell into a terrifying silence.

Only Hazel let out a soft laugh.

Andrew frowned, as if only now realizing just how insulting those words were.

Instinctively, he stepped in front of Hazel.

"Hazel," he said, "apologize."

Hazel's eyes instantly reddened. Her voice rose sharply, trembling with tears.

"Why should I apologize?!"

"Aren't these stamps something you had custom-made for me because you were afraid I'd get bored?"

"You were the one who said I could stamp anything—just for fun! And now you stand there watching her force me to apologize, humiliating me like this?!"

Andrew grabbed her wrist, his brows drawn tightly together.

"Hazel!"

Hazel shook him off hard, crying so violently her whole body trembled.

"Don't touch me!"

"You're ganging up on me! You just look down on me, don't you? It was just a joke, and suddenly everything was my fault!"

She sobbed uncontrollably, her words breaking apart.

"Fine! It's my fault! Someone ordinary like me doesn't deserve to joke around with big shots like you! I'll leave right now—is that good enough?!"

With that, she turned and rushed toward the door.

"Hazel!"

Andrew's voice turned sharp as he strode forward and pulled her back.

Looking at her tear-streaked face, his expression shifted several times before he finally sighed, his tone softening.

"Stop making a scene. It's such a small thing—look at how hard you're crying."

He turned to me, his brows still furrowed, fatigue creeping into his voice.

"Hazel is young and immature. She doesn't understand these things. I'll apologize to you on her behalf."

"Jade... don't dwell on it too much, alright?"

I curled my lips into a mocking smile.

The blue ink on my face felt as if it had seeped into my skin, burning hot against my cheeks.

Andrew released Hazel and walked toward me.

He pulled a few tissues from the desk, his voice gentler now.

"Alright, don't be angry anymore. Didn't you tell me before to take extra care of Hazel?"

"She's just childish—she likes to play around."

My nails dug into my palm. It hurt—but nowhere near as much as the pain crushing my chest.

Yes.

Back then, I was the one who pitied Hazel.

When she cried and begged me to sponsor her education, I softened. I pulled her out of that remote, patriarchal mountain village.

Not only did I fund her schooling, I even arranged for her to intern at Andrew's company.

During that time, Andrew complained to me more than once.

He said she couldn't even operate the copier properly, spilled coffee everywhere, and managed to deliver documents to the wrong floor.

Every time he mentioned her, he'd rub his temples and complain to me half-jokingly.

"Jade, you really handed me a huge problem. I spend all day cleaning up after her—I don't even have time to breathe."

I laughed back then, saying he lacked patience and was too harsh on newcomers.

I always believed lending someone a helping hand was a good deed.

But I never imagined—that the person I personally pulled out of the mud would one day step on my face to reach for things she never could have touched on her own.

Andrew sighed and stepped closer, lifting a hand to wipe the words off my face.

But the blue ink was oil-based.

The more he wiped, the worse it smeared.

The stain spread across my cheek, down to my chin, even brushing against my hair and the corner of my lips.

I could already imagine how I looked.

My carefully styled hair was a mess, my makeup smeared into blue-black blotches.

I must have looked utterly ridiculous—like a clown.

Hazel covered her mouth and let out a laugh, unable to hide the satisfaction on her face.

"Andrew!"

"I almost forgot—there are only twenty minutes left before the charity auction starts."

"We should get going."

Andrew's expression tightened. He glanced at his watch. Then he turned to me. "There really isn't time."

"Jade, I originally planned to take you to pick out some new jewelry, but it looks like we'll have to reschedule."

"Go home first, alright? When I come back tonight, we'll talk properly."

When Andrew reached the door, he turned back and said one more thing to me.

"Jade. Be good. Wait for me to come home."

Hazel stood beside him. At the moment she turned her back to me, she tilted her face slightly—and hooked the corner of her lips at me in a lightning-fast smile.

There was not a trace of apology in that smile. Only open provocation and victory.

The door opened.

I watched Andrew follow her out without the slightest hesitation, and the last bit of warmth left in my chest completely dissipated.

"Andrew. If this is how you choose to handle things—"

"I'm not satisfied. I'll deal with it in my own way."

Andrew finally turned around. His face was calm, as if he thought I was merely throwing a tantrum. He even chuckled softly, offering a perfunctory kind of reassurance.

"Alright, Jade."

"Don't overthink it. Wait for me to come back."

With that, he pulled the door open and left together with Hazel.

The door wasn't closed tightly. Sounds from the hallway drifted in, broken and intermittent.

First came Hazel's lowered voice, carrying careful grievance and worry.

"Andrew..."

"Jade is so spoiled and domineering. Her family background is so powerful too. If she really wants to go after me, what should I do...?"

Then came Andrew's voice—not loud, but clear enough for me to hear.

"Jade is just angry right now. She'll calm down in a bit."

"And besides—"

There was a certainty in his tone that chilled me to the bone.

"With me here, who could possibly bully you?"

"All that little temper of yours is used on me. You're just acting tough at home. Look how scared you got from just a few words."

Their footsteps faded into the distance.

The office was left with only those few stunned girls, their gazes toward me tinged with pity.

I wearily covered the words stamped on my face and spoke softly.

"Could someone please lend me a mask... or a hat?"

One of the girls hesitated before handing me a brand-new mask.

"This one is clean."

I glanced at the name badge on her chest, my voice catching slightly.

"Thank you. I'll remember you."

Her face flushed, and she hurriedly stepped aside.

I covered most of my face with the mask, pulled the hat low, and left the company.

Once inside the car, I sent a message to the Clark family—the hosts of tonight's charity auction.

"Tonight, Andrew will attend with a secretary named Hazel Garcia."

"Send Hazel to me."

In the highest circles of Massachusetts, people would kill for a chance to curry favor with me. Hazel had just handed the Clark family that opportunity.

I made another call.

"Find a shop that makes stamps. I want one hundred pork-quality stamps. The ink has to be the reddest kind—the kind that won't wash off."

The moment the car stopped at the villa entrance, Butler John hurried over.

"Mr. Martin came back briefly just now. He said he's taking Miss Garcia to the charity auction tonight, but she lacks a suitable gown."

"He... he took her straight into your dressing room."

My heart sank, but my voice remained steady. "Which dress did Hazel choose?"

Butler John took a deep breath, clearly suppressing his anger. "'Star Sea.'"

My breathing stopped for a split second.

Star Sea...

That was the gown I wore to my engagement banquet with Andrew.

It wasn't bought from any haute couture brand.

Andrew had personally drawn the design, found the finest craftsmen, and had it hand-sewn stitch by stitch.

Hundreds of natural sapphires of varying sizes were set across the skirt.

He once said it was like plucking the stars from the night sky—and laying them across my body.