She wanted to swap a dollar-store reject for my high-end sushi?
I tossed the cake right back at her.
Stacy's face crumpled into wounded innocence:
"Sissy won't even take my little cakey... Does sissy hate Stacy...?"
I opened my mouth to fire back, but Arnold didn't even glance my way. Instead, he handed Stacy a tissue and cooed at her:
"Don't cry. I'll buy you some boba."
Stacy's tears vanished instantly. She latched onto his arm, all smiles:
"Arnold is the best~ Not like some people, always so mean. No wonder she doesn't have a boyfriend."
My nails dug into my palms.
Arnold James. My secret boyfriend of two years.
He just let her cling to him. Didn't pull away.
From that day on, Stacy's "accidents" multiplied.
She accidentally put wasabi in my coffee. Accidentally lost my delivery package.
And then she accidentally posted a photo of me working late to the department group chat, with the caption:
"Anita is soooo hardworking~ Still at the office this late... Could she be waiting for a certain executive? "
The angle was deliberate—it caught me adjusting my collar, making it look like I was... putting myself together after something.
The group chat exploded.