Chapter 2I Raised a Mad Dog Three Years Ago

Someone barked at me immediately.

“Who the hell are you? You think you can just walk in here? Get the hell out!”

I ignored the lapdog and scanned the room.

It was filled with Asher’s usual cronies, each with a girl in a low-cut dress and a micro-skirt draped over them.

Expensive liquor and food littered the table. It was a scene of pure, decadent rot.

My gaze landed on Asher, slouched in a corner, leg crossed, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He’d dyed his hair a trendy ash gray and was looking down.

Sitting next to him was a girl who was a watered-down version of me. I have an edge of ice; she had an air of innocence.

Asher’s childhood friend recognized me, his jaw dropping.

“Holy shit! Isn’t that the legendary Ve—”

He slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

The moment Asher heard my name, his head snapped up.

Our eyes met, and he visibly flinched.

The colored lights in the room seemed to dim, and I couldn’t quite make out his expression.

When the lights flared back up, his face was a mask of disgust and mockery.

Asher leaned back, slinging an arm around the girl beside him. Her cheeks flushed, and she snuggled against him like a delicate bird.

A pity Asher didn’t notice her shy display. He was too busy trying to humiliate me.

“Well now, look who it is. If it isn’t the gold digger who dumped me for money.”

Asher’s eyes raked over me, from head to toe. Seeing not a single luxury brand on me, a smug satisfaction flickered across his face.

“Still poor as dirt, Vera. What, you want to get back together? Why don’t you get on your knees and beg?”

His friends erupted in jeering laughter. Other than his childhood friend, none of them knew who I was.

Their insults were sharp and cruel.

“Damn, what kind of idiot dumps a guy like Asher for money? If I were a girl, I’d be licking his boots every day. He could hit me, slap me, I wouldn’t care. I’d call him daddy!”

“This chick is just trying to cash in, right? Why does she look so much like Claire? Is that a nose job? Jesus, can you stop with the desperate tactics? You’re not even fit to lick Claire’s shoes. She’s the one who deserves to be Asher’s wife!”

Claire. That must be the girl’s name. As pure as it sounded.

Hearing these words, Claire looked at me from the safety of Asher’s embrace with a sort of pity, hiding a sliver of triumph and disdain.

She probably pitied me for going so far as to get plastic surgery to look like her, just to get close to Asher.

And yet, I wasn’t even worthy of sitting beside him.

Among them all, only Asher’s childhood friend remained silent, his eyes darting nervously between Asher and me.

He opened his mouth as if to explain something, but someone else’s loud jeer drowned him out.

Just then, the stream of text appeared before my eyes.

[The villainess finally makes her entrance. Supposedly she's the male lead's 'one that got away,' but she doesn't look like much. Way worse than our girl Claire.]

[Don't worry, she'll be gone in a flash. The male lead has already forgotten her. He won't give her the time of day.]

[I always laugh at this part of the story. The side character tries to politely talk the male lead into going back to work, but he won't even look at her. It’s so humiliating, hahaha!]

Honestly, I had planned on being civil with Asher. It was our first time seeing each other in three years, after all.

But after reading those comments, I changed my mind.

Too much time had passed. Someone had clearly forgotten the rules.

He needed a reminder.

Asher was still preening, turning to praise his lackey for the insults, when a large shadow fell over him.

I was standing right in front of him. I raised my hand high.

And brought it down, hard, across his face.

CRACK!

The room went dead silent.