Chapter 3

Evelina Frost POV:

"Where I am is none of your business."

I slipped the black card into my denim jacket pocket and stayed seated on the leather sofa, my tone flat.

She let out an exaggerated scoff, as if she had just heard the funniest joke of the year.

"Nobody in Crown City dares talk to me like that. I'm Serena Vale, daughter of the Vale family—and sooner or later Alexander will be my husband. So what are you? Some little gold-digger who crawled into his office off the street?"

At the insult, the warmth vanished from my eyes. My fingers tapped twice against the leather armrest.

"Watch your mouth. This is Blackthorn Group, not your family's drawing room."

I stood up, not bothering to waste another word on her, and walked toward the door.

Serena swept sideways to block my path, her gaze raking over my faded denim jacket, a venomous smirk curling her lips.

"What, running away because I hit a nerve? Alexander's taste has really gone downhill lately."

I looked at her the same way I would look at a pile of garbage.

"Get out of my way."

Instead of stepping aside, she raised her hand to slap me across the face.

"Quite the temper. Let me teach you some manners—"

Before her palm could land, my right hand shot out, clamping onto her wrist and twisting it downward, while my left foot snapped squarely against the back of her knee. Serena shrieked as her legs buckled and she crashed onto the thick carpet, cold sweat beading across her forehead.

"Next time you raise your hand at me, I'll break it."

Releasing my grip, I pulled a wet wipe from the desk, wiped my fingers clean in disgust, and dropped the used wipe onto her ruined gown before walking out of the CEO's office.

I took the elevator down to the company bistro on the second floor. Lunchtime, and the room was packed with white-collar employees in sharp business attire. My worn-out clothes stood out like a sore thumb, drawing probing, disdainful stares.

Ignoring the whispers, I ordered a simple salad and pasta and took a corner seat by the window.

I had barely taken two bites when the chatter suddenly died. Serena came storming toward me, clutching her wrist, two security guards trailing helplessly behind her.

"That's her! This bitch attacked me upstairs!"

She jabbed a finger at me, her features twisted with rage.

The surrounding employees gasped in unison, looking at me as if I were already a dead woman.

I set down my fork and dabbed the corner of my mouth with a napkin, not even bothering to stand.

"What, that lesson upstairs wasn't enough to teach you manners?"

My nonchalance pushed her completely over the edge. She lunged forward, seized the edge of my table, and heaved it upward. With a screech of scraping metal, the table flipped, sending salad, pasta, and shattered plates across the floor.

The instant she flipped it, I tapped my toes against the floor and slid backward half a meter along with my chair. Not a single drop of sauce touched my clothes.

"You're dead today! I'll make sure you can't survive in Crown City!"

Screaming, she snatched a steak knife from an adjacent table and lunged straight at my face.

Screams erupted from the crowd. The guards turned pale, too far away to stop her in time.

Watching the blade rush toward me, I didn't retreat. I leaned my torso slightly aside, dodging the edge by a fraction of an inch, and my right hand struck the pressure point on her wrist. The knife clattered to the floor.

Grabbing her collar, I used her own momentum to haul her up and slammed her flat onto the messy floor with a crisp shoulder throw.

The heavy thud silenced the entire bistro. Serena curled up on the floor, gasping, her designer gown smeared with sauce.

I planted one foot on her custom high heel and leaned down slightly, my voice devoid of warmth.

"I told you, this is Blackthorn Group, not a place for you to run wild."

Right then, urgent, synchronized footsteps echoed from the edge of the crowd. Alexander's executive assistant, Kevin, parted the onlookers with a squad of black-clad bodyguards.

Spotting Serena on the floor and me standing over her, he nearly jumped out of his skin and rushed forward.

"Miss Frost! Are you hurt? The Boss is coming down right now!"

Hearing the title "Miss Frost" and seeing the top executive assistant all but kneel in apology, Serena's eyes bulged from the floor as if she had seen a ghost. The watching employees froze, their disdain instantly replaced by sheer terror.

Ignoring everyone's reactions, I pulled my foot back and glanced down at the pathetic woman at my feet.

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from an unknown number: [The Matron is missing. The orphanage is about to be demolished.]