Chapter 4The Sweet-Talking Friend

I offered a soft smile, ready to rip away Claire’s paper-thin veil of innocence.

"Of course not. What else would you want me to think, Claire? I know Julian is a master of boundaries. You're the one who shouldn't overthink things."

Claire looked as if she had just swallowed a fly.

Julian, finally catching on, realized Claire’s sweet request for him to serve me was just another one of her games. He was already swamped with a new project, and the little time he’d managed to carve out for dinner was being wasted on yet another one of her loyalty tests.

He slammed his palm on the table. "That's enough, Claire," he said, his voice dangerously low. "How many times are we going to do this? When is this ridiculous charade going to end?"

He rarely got this angry, especially not in front of others.

Seeing his thunderous expression, Claire knew she’d gone too far. She grabbed his arm, her voice laced with panic. "Julian, it's not like that! My hands were just… my new manicure… I just couldn't serve her myself. I thought… you're my boyfriend, and she's my best friend. I didn't think either of you would mind."

[Right. That fresh manicure is so inconvenient.]

[The nerve of her, calling Sienna her 'best friend.' You don't even remember your 'best friend's' birthday.]

[Some best friend. Sabotaging her scholarship, hiring someone to do her makeup badly, spreading rumors to make yourself look better?]

[Sienna, honey, her boyfriend is the most important thing to her, right? The thing she uses you to test day in and day out? Just take him. Let's see how she keeps up her act then.]

[Normally I'm against pitting women against each other, but with a 'friend' this toxic, I fully support Sienna using him to get that promotion and a raise! A true leading lady doesn't avoid men; she steps on them to get to the top.]

My gaze shifted from the floating comments back to the tense couple across from me.

I had lit the fuse. Mistrust was already creeping in, and a full-blown argument was imminent. My work here was done. It was my birthday, after all. I wasn't about to let someone so toxic ruin it.

Grabbing my bag, I stood up, my voice dripping with faux apology. "I'm so sorry to cut this short. My colleagues are throwing me a small birthday celebration, so I should get going. I'll leave you two lovebirds to it."

Claire's eyes went wide with theatrical shock. She grabbed my arm, feigning a desperate apology, insisting she hadn't forgotten on purpose. As if. A self-absorbed person like her had never remembered my birthday once.

I gently pried her fingers off my arm. "It's okay. No one's ever really remembered my birthday, so I'm used to it. If my colleagues hadn't insisted, I wouldn't even be celebrating. My birthday isn't important. Don't feel bad. You two enjoy your evening."

My passive-aggressive performance left her speechless, her face paling.

Julian’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening on his water glass. I knew my little sob story would work on a man like him, a wealthy scion raised on etiquette and propriety. He would feel a pang of guilt for ruining my birthday.

Playing the victim, acting fragile? A girl who grew up in the system like me learns that from birth.

Of course, the performance had to be complete. The moment I was outside, I called a few colleagues and invited them out for a drink at a nearby bar.