Chapter 2The Audacity! My Butler's Girlfriend Thinks She Owns My Penthouse

At first, Chloe only liked taking photos and videos in the lobby to brag to her followers.

I could understand that. A young girl’s vanity is normal.

But what I couldn't tolerate was the sheer disgust and contempt in Chloe’s eyes every time she saw me.

It was as if I owed her millions.

A few times, when I walked past her, she would violently spray perfume in my direction and complain loudly:

"Ugh, this is supposed to be a high-end club. Why does it always smell like cheap trash?"

I thought there was an actual odor, so I specifically told the club manager to do a deep clean and air purification.

But she only got worse. She started sanitizing the sofas after I sat on them.

She even pasted "Private Area" labels on the spots I frequently used.

When I questioned Ryan about it, he would always apologize nervously in private:

"Miss Vance, Chloe is just worried that the club's environment isn't clean enough. She wants to maintain the club's high standards for you, so she’s extra obsessed with hygiene."

I didn't think much of it then.

I was too busy managing the expansion of our new branches. I didn't have the energy to sweat the small stuff with a young girl.

But now I realized she actually thought I was a cleaning girl trying to seduce her "CEO boyfriend"!

While I was lost in my thoughts, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Ryan ran in, panting heavily.

When he saw my icy expression and then saw Chloe live-streaming in my suite, his face drained of all color.

He rushed over to me, lowering his voice to a whisper only I could hear.

"Miss Vance, I am so, so sorry! I didn't explain things clearly to her. She got the wrong idea and thought I owned the club... Don't worry, I’ll explain everything to her right now!"

I looked at him coldly. "You better."

Ryan nodded frantically, then turned and walked into the suite. He grabbed Chloe and whispered to her. Chloe froze, glared at me, and reluctantly put away her phone before leaving with Ryan.

Before he left, Ryan turned back to give me a pleading smile and mouthed, "Miss Vance, don't worry. I’ll handle it."

Watching his retreating back, I felt a slight unease, but I shook it off. I shut the door and enjoyed dinner with my mother.

I thought that was the end of it.

Until one weekend, I decided to have my mother spend a few days at my suburban villa to relax.

I called Ryan. "Ryan, my mother wants to stay at the villa for a couple of days. Can you clean it up? You have the keys, right?"

The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, Ryan stammered, "Miss Vance... the villa has been empty for a while. It's incredibly dusty. Why don't you go in a couple of days? Let me send a cleaning crew first."

I frowned. "No need. I can tidy up myself. Just give me the keys. I’m taking my mother there today."

Ryan quickly said, "Miss Vance, how can I let you do that? You’re the boss. You shouldn't be cleaning. Besides, the water and electricity need to be checked. What if something goes wrong? How about the day after tomorrow? I promise it will be spotless by then."

I felt suspicious, but I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong. Ryan loved playing small tricks, but he wouldn't dare lie about something like this. I hesitated but agreed. "Fine. Get it done quickly."

But the next day, Ryan called again, claiming the AC was broken and the technician wouldn't be free for another two days.

On the third day, he said a pipe in the yard was leaking, and the main valve had to be shut off, making the house uninhabitable.

After three days of excuses, my suspicion peaked.

I didn't bother arguing. I drove my mother straight to the suburban villa.

Arriving at the gates, I parked the car and told my mother, "Mom, go ahead and unlock the door first. I’ll park the car and catch up."

My mother nodded, got out of the car, and walked toward the front door with the keys.

But the moment I turned off the engine, before I could even step out, I heard a sharp, loud slap from the villa.

Then came my mother’s terrified cry.

My heart stopped. I leapt out of the car and sprinted toward the entrance.

The front door was wide open. My mother was sitting on the ground, clutching her face. Her eyes were red, and a trickle of blood was escaping the corner of her mouth.

And Chloe was standing over her, hands on her hips, glaring down with pure disgust.

"You old bag! Who gave you permission to touch my sofa? Do you know how expensive that leather is? You’ll ruin it with your dirty, cheap clothes!"

I rushed in, helped my mother up, and glared at Chloe. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Chloe was taken aback to see me, but she quickly sneered.

"Oh, look who it is. Another one? You must be this old woman's daughter, right? Perfect. Take your mother and get out before she ruins my house!"

I ignored her and checked my mother’s face. Half of her cheek was already swollen, with a clear handprint. Her knees were scraped and bleeding.

I took a deep breath and looked around the room.