Chapter 2

The words were barely out of my mouth when a splash of alcohol hit my face.

Chelsea, holding the glass, smirked triumphantly. "I think *you're* the one who needs a reality check! We all know who Tiffany is. Her mom runs a huge enterprise, and her boyfriend is a company CEO. This whole villa belongs to *her*. As for you, tsk, tsk, look at the cheap rags you're wearing, no brand at all. You're only fit for cleaning and serving others, a low-class job."

Cheap rags?

My clothes didn't have brands because they were all custom-designed by a renowned haute couture artist.

Other girls behind her also started defending Tiffany. "Exactly! Why don't you hurry up and apologize to Tiffany, or you'll lose even this job."

Then, a guy spoke up, his tone flippant. "Hey, lady, why don't you look at yourself? How old are you, still trying to snatch a guy from our goddess Tiffany? If you're so desperate for a man, I could help you out. I've never tried a thirty-something woman before. Is two hundred a night enough?"

The others burst into laughter.

I wiped the alcohol from my face, my eyes fixed on Brandon as I spoke slowly. "Brandon, I'm your wife. Are you just going to stand there and watch them insult me, help your side chick do this? I'm telling you, you're going to regret this!"

Brandon’s face was utterly cold. "Tiffany is my girlfriend. This is all your own fault."

His words were deliberately ambiguous.

Seeing so many of her friends backing her, and Brandon standing by her side, Tiffany straightened up, her voice growing bolder. "Sister Ashley, I call you 'sister' because you're older than me, but don't forget your place. You can cause a scene whenever you want, even today, if you want to embarrass me, fine. But Brandon is a man, and with so many people watching, how could you slap a CEO of a major corporation in public? Did you even think about his feelings?"

She then turned to Brandon, her voice softening. "Brandon, even though I'm young, I know how to stand by my man, to make sure you look good in public, unlike Sister Ashley…"

Her words were a masterclass in manipulation, playing directly into his ego and pathetic insecurities.

I scoffed. "You know, I almost forgot. I only slapped *him*, not *you*!"

The next second, I grabbed her hair and landed two brutal slaps across her pale cheek.

Tiffany shrieked and burst into tears, clutching her face. "Ashley, you dare hit me? I'll make you pay for this!"

"Still yapping?"

I raised my hand to hit her again, but Brandon caught my wrist, pushing hard.

His strength sent me stumbling backward, knocking over a champagne tower. I fell to the ground, my hand landing on shattered glass.

Brandon didn't even look at me. Instead, he pulled Tiffany into his arms and snapped, "Ashley, apologize to Tiffany!"

I stared at my bleeding palm.

I bit back the pain, slowly pulling out the glass shards.

Two years of marriage, just like these glass fragments in my hand, piercing and hurting me.

Tiffany, nestled in his arms, smirked triumphantly at me.

The pain in my palm made my voice drop several degrees. "Brandon, in *my* home, you throw a birthday party for your side chick, you openly cheat on me right in front of my face, and then you tell *me* to apologize to her? Are you out of your mind? Or do you just think I'm a pushover, Ashley? Don't forget, I'm your *legal wife*. I can dress you in designer labels and shower you with luxuries, and I can just as easily strip you bare and leave you with nothing!"