Chapter 3

Daisy's POV

Watching Sean carry Madison down the hallway, the tears I had held back finally spilled over.

Bracing myself against a cubicle partition, I pulled myself up slowly, then went to the maintenance closet for a broom and mop.

Kneeling on the cold tiles, I picked up the jagged shards of glass one by one, wiping away the sticky orange juice.

Two colleagues I usually got along with came over to help, their eyes filled with pity.

"I heard her clear as day. Miss Cole specifically asked for ice,"

one whispered, handing me a clean paper towel.

"Daisy, how did you manage to get on her bad side?"

"She's been spoiled like that since childhood. The second things don't go her way, she takes it out on anyone nearby."

The other sighed, tossing the glass into a bin.

"The whole company sees how crazy Mr. Vance is about her. Regular employees like us can't afford to cross her. You just have to swallow it."

I kept my head down, scrubbing the stains, a heavy weight in my chest. I said nothing.

Two years ago, when an international contract went sideways, a client had sneakily altered a clause and tried pinning the entire blame on me.

The client had slammed the desk, hurled folders, and threatened to sue Vance Corp.

Back then, Sean had stood up, slammed the contract right back in their faces in front of dozens of executives,

and said, "I know my people. Touch her, and you deal with my legal team first."

Back then, Sean protected me unconditionally.

Now, without even bothering to ask a question, all it took was a little pout from Madison for him to pin every single wrongdoing on my head.

Five years of loyal companionship couldn't hold a candle to a few words from the woman who just returned.

"Bring a pot of hot tea and two heating pads to the penthouse."

Sean's voice through the intercom carried no inflection.

I dried my hands, acknowledged the order, slipped on a coat, brewed the tea in the kitchen, and took a cab straight to his residence.

Pushing open the front doors, the place was completely unrecognizable.

The mature tree in the courtyard had been ripped out and replaced with a crowded bed of hydrangeas.

The dark, understated wood furniture in the living room was gone, swapped for glaring shades of baby pink and cream.

The display shelves by the entrance were overflowing with designer handbags and brand-new designer heels.

I had only moved out three days ago, yet not a single trace of Daisy remained.

I walked up to the master bedroom on the second floor and knocked on the door.

Sean pulled it open to take the supplies. The moment his eyes landed on my face, he froze.

With the blood washed away, the jagged cut on my temple was raw, swollen, and bruised.

"What happened to your forehead? Did you see a doctor?"

Sean reached out to touch the wound, but I instinctively tilted my head away, dodging his fingers.

I shook my head silently.

Sean retracted his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose, and softened his tone slightly.

"Madison wasn't feeling well today. She got emotional, that's all. She didn't mean to take it out on you. Don't take it to heart."

"As for your docked pay and bonus, I'll have accounting reimburse you in full during year-end adjustments."

"Take tomorrow and the next day to get a full check-up at the hospital. Bill it to the corporate insurance. I'll give you a week of paid leave."

I kept my eyes fixed on his collar.

"No need, Mr. Vance. By the end of this month, I will formally—"

Sean pulled a black Centurion card from his pocket, shoved it into my hand, and cut me off entirely.

"Just take the card and do as you're told."

"Madison's welcome-back party with her friends is this week. You need to oversee the event coordination. Rest up and heal first."

Holding the cold metal card, my throat felt parched.

I swallowed the rest of my words, gave a quiet nod, and turned toward the stairs.

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind me, Madison's sweet, clingy voice drifted through.

"Sean, is the tea poured yet? My cramps are still so bad, come massage my stomach."

"Coming right now. Stay under the duvet."

Sean's voice was gentle enough to melt.

Walking down the stairs, a self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

Years ago, during my worst period cramps, I had passed out on-site during a major translation assignment and was rushed away in an ambulance.

When Sean found out, he merely approved half a day off through routine HR channels—not a single personal word of concern.

Back then, I always excused him, thinking he was simply too busy running a massive enterprise to worry about private matters.

Now, I finally saw the truth clearly: when someone actually cares, they always have time.

I left the house, went to an urgent care clinic, got the wound disinfected, and had two stitches put in.

Four days later, Madison's welcome-back gala kicked off in a luxury hotel ballroom.

From the floral arrangements and dessert displays to the service staff's floor flow, I checked every single detail off the list.

At seven sharp, Madison walked in on four-inch heels, surrounded by a glamorous crowd of socialites and trust-fund heirs.

The crowd swarmed her instantly, showers of praise rising from every corner.

"Madison, you're just as radiant as ever! Sean booked out this entire ballroom for you—he's been utterly obsessed with you for ten years straight!"

"Remember in college when that guy tried asking you out? Sean pulled strings to get him kicked out of school! Everyone knows Madison is his queen."

"Look at that diamond necklace she's wearing—limited edition worldwide. Sean spares no expense when it comes to spoiling you!"