"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.

The value of that dress could no longer be measured in money.

It represented a promise—a magnificent, radiant dream Andrew had once woven for me with his own hands.

I closed my eyes.

For a moment, I could still see the day of our engagement—Andrew gazing at me as I wore Star Sea, light blazing in his eyes.

He had said, "Jade, all the luck I'll ever have in this lifetime was probably used up the moment I met you."

I never doubted that Andrew had once been sincere with me.

It was only now that I understood—sincerity was something that could change in an instant.

Exhausted, I sank into the sofa.

A servant immediately brought over a basin of warm water and a soft towel, carefully wiping the marks from my face.

The water was changed several times.

The rubbing made my skin sting faintly. But the blue characters seemed to have grown into my skin, leaving behind a pale cyan shadow—like a birthmark that refused to fade.

My phone began vibrating wildly. There were more than a dozen messages from a close friend.

[That woman with the surname Garcia—has she lost her mind?!]

Below it was a link, along with a photo that had already been shared countless times.

In the photo, my face was turned slightly to the side.

The shock and anger on my expression hadn't had time to fade. The blue words "Pork Quality—Grade A" on my face were painfully clear.

My hair was disheveled. My makeup was smeared.

I looked utterly humiliated.

The caption was posted by Hazel with just three sentence, paired with a hand-over-mouth laughing emoji.

[Some people get overly sensitive as they age. It was just a small joke, yet they lost their temper.]

[You're better off when you're young—no burden, no limits on how you play~]

My friend's call came through immediately.

"It's spreading everywhere in our circle. The wording isn't that nasty, but..."

She trailed off.

I understood without her finishing.

But my dignity had been completely trampled.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say I was fine. But my throat felt stuffed with wet cotton. No sound came out. I could only take a breath and force my voice to stay steady.

"I'll handle it."

Then I hung up.

Almost at the same moment, footsteps echoed outside the villa.

More than a dozen men in black walked in first, then threw a bound Hazel onto the floor.

She steadied herself and snapped her head up.

"Jade! All you know how to do is use your family's power to bully people, isn't that right?!"

"Besides relying on your background, what else are you capable of?!"

I slowly sat up from the sofa and looked at her.

I even let out a soft laugh.

"Hazel, my name is Jade Elizabeth Davis."

She froze, clearly not understanding why I suddenly said that.

"In Massachusetts, there's an unspoken rule about names with doubled characters."

"It means the child was born destined to be cherished and indulged. She doesn't need to compete like men do—no fighting for power, no business, no politics."

"The only thing she needs to do in this lifetime..."

"...is to enjoy life."

I paused, watching the color drain from Hazel's face.

"And you must know what the Davis family represents."

Hazel's lips began to tremble.

Of course she knew.

In Massachusetts, what the Davis family stood for was a height she couldn't reach even standing on tiptoe.

She forced herself upright, but her voice wavered.

"I—I only wore one of your dresses! What's the big deal?! I'll give it back to you!"

As she spoke, she fumbled desperately for the zipper of the gown.

"No need."

"I don't want clothes that have been dirtied."

I stood and walked slowly toward her, looking down at her from above.