Genevieve, Are You Okay
Genevieve stood completely still, frozen in shock.
When she finally regained her senses, she was drenched in coffee, her appearance a complete mess.
"Evelyn!" she exclaimed, her voice shaking with pure rage.
She could never have imagined Evelyn would lash out so openly.
Her cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and fury.
She stared at Evelyn, feeling on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
Today, she had specifically chosen her most elegant, custom-tailored outfit to make a powerful impression at Aethelgard Industries.
Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless—all of it now ruined by Evelyn.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Genevieve's voice broke as she shouted.
Tears welled in her eyes, not just from frustration, but from sheer indignation.
The office fell into a stunned silence.
Their colleagues watched with wide, disbelieving eyes.
A few rushed over with tissues, dabbing gently at Genevieve's face, trying to soothe the sting of the coffee.
"Genevieve, here, wipe it off."
"Evelyn, what was the meaning of that?" another colleague demanded, frowning deeply.
Evelyn remained standing there, her demeanor eerily calm.
"Evelyn said it was an accident. This reaction seems a bit much," someone else added.
Evelyn didn't hesitate any longer.
Her eyelids fluttered with feigned innocence.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured softly. "I was just so startled. When my own clothes were splashed, I reacted without thinking. I clumsily spilled my coffee, just like she did."
Her voice was sickly sweet, each word deliberately paced as she offered a mock-apologetic smile to Genevieve.
Her gaze locked onto Genevieve's. "Genevieve, are you okay?" she asked with fake concern.
Genevieve's breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts.
Her chest heaved with barely controlled fury.
Her eyes blazed with an intense, scorching wrath—the kind that imagined wringing Evelyn's neck right there on the spot.
Genevieve had lived her entire life sheltered and adored.
Pampered at home and admired by all.
The idea of being publicly humiliated like this was unbelievable.
Inside, she cursed Evelyn with every vile word she knew.
But her overt rage left her lips trembling, struggling to form a coherent sentence.
Evelyn, perfectly aware of Genevieve's simmering anger, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.
Her smile widened, eyes glinting with mock sympathy as she leisurely looked over Genevieve's ruined outfit.
"Oh, dear," she drawled, feigning pity. "That outfit must have cost a fortune. What a shame. A simple cup of coffee—worth only a few dollars—has managed to destroy such beautiful clothing. Perhaps, Genevieve, you should avoid coffee in the future. Or you might end up ruined."
After delivering her line, Evelyn's expression turned cold instantly.
She dropped the pretend smile and spun on her heel to leave.
Her dismissive attitude only poured fuel on Genevieve's fury.
"Evelyn, don't you dare walk away from me!" Genevieve's voice cracked, raw with emotion.
She watched Evelyn's retreating back, a spark of determination igniting within her.
Without a second thought, Genevieve surged forward, intent on grabbing Evelyn and forcing a confrontation.
Today was the day she would put Evelyn in her place.
But just as Genevieve reached out, her sharp nails nearly grazing Evelyn's shoulder, Evelyn whirled around with surprising agility.
In one smooth, backhanded motion, she seized Genevieve's wrist, jerking it upward with precise force.
Genevieve gasped, a mix of shock and pain.
"It hurts! Let go of me, Evelyn!" Genevieve cried out, her voice desperate.
Evelyn, however, maintained her grip effortlessly.
Her expression was unreadable as she locked eyes with Genevieve.
No words were needed.
The silence between them was heavy with tension.
Genevieve's eyes widened as she met Evelyn's gaze.
She found herself inexplicably drawn into the depths of those enigmatic eyes.
A shiver raced down Genevieve's spine.
The chill in the air seemed to intensify, making her feel as if the coffee stains on her clothes had turned to ice.