?Chapter 90:


    She felt something cold and wet beneath her and looked down—her body stiffened instantly.


    A ring red stain marred the sofa, jolting her fully awake.


    In a panic, she scrambled into her skirt. As she looked up, she caught a glimpse of someone darting past the doorway.


    “Stop right there!” she yelled.


    But the figure was gone. Fuzzy memories from the night before flickered through her mind—she remembered clinging to a man in the dim light of the bar, kissing him, and noticing a small birthmark on the back of his neck.


    Joyce rushed out of the private room, her heart pounding. Outside, her so-called friends lingered, equally disheveled and hungover.


    They hadn’t left. They were all hanging around, hoping to capitalize on her newfound status rted to the Luxor Tower—a chance none wanted to miss.


    Joyce quickly tried topose herself and left the bar, only to find herself facing a group of police officers at the door.


    Behind them, an irate Caiden and a distressed Katrina approached rapidly.


    “Officer, there’s been a mistake!” Caiden eximed, desperation in his voice.


    “My card must have been stolen! My daughter doesn’t drink. She’s never had alcohol in her life—”


    His protest halted abruptly as he caught sight of Joyce.


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    There she stood, disheveled andical in appearance, with her hair a mess, eyelid stickers dangling precariously, and the family credit card dangling from her fingers.


    The words froze in his throat.


    Instead, his mind churned with a single thought.


    “What a disgrace!” Still, he forced himself to swallow the insult, holding back his simmering anger. Today was her big store opening. Four million? It was nothing.


    Caiden clenched his fists tightly, the tension in his jaw betraying his struggle to maintainposure.


    Katrina went to great lengths to ensure Joyce’s store opening looked grand, including renting several luxury cars to form an impressive convoy to the Luxor Tower.


    During the ride, she ced a reassuring hand on Caiden’s chest, patting it lightly to calm him.


    “Honey, don’t let it get to you. It’s nothing to stress over. We’ll earn it all back in no time. Think about it—business is all about connections. Sometimes, you have to spend a little to make friends!”


    Caiden exhaled heavily, attempting to let her words soothe him. Then his gaze shifted to the back row, where two of Joyce’s self-proimed “best friends” sat.


    Their appearances were jarring.


    One wore mismatched, ripped clothing that gave the impression she’d stumbled out of a haunted house.


    The other sported multiple lip piercings that made Caiden wince.


    These were her connections?


    The two began chattering obnoxiously.


    “Joyce, rememberst night? You promised I could have space on the 18th floor to sell my essential oils!”


    Caiden squeezed his eyes shut, the dull throb of a headache starting to build.


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