Chapter 1

Priscilla's POV

I'm an international flight purser. Every time I returned from a trip, I would find a woman’s item in my apartment that didn't belong to me.

The first time, it was a diamond earring on the bathroom counter. Gabriel said his mother left it behind when she visited. The second time, it was a pair of lace panties stuffed between the sofa cushions. He claimed his cousin's girlfriend left them when they crashed at our place, and his cousin even offered to buy us a brand-new sofa to apologize.

Time and time again, there was a flawless excuse for every single item.

Until the seventeenth time, when I deliberately hid one of my own lace bras under the sofa...

——

I tossed the black lace bra onto the table in front of Gabriel.

This was the seventeenth time.

The first time it was the diamond earring—his mother immediately stepped up and claimed she dropped it while cleaning. The second time it was the panties—his cousin Lewis instantly called to take the blame.

This time, Gabriel didn't even look closely at the bra. His expression shifted slightly before he smoothly pulled out his phone and dialed my brother, Nathaniel, and my best friend, Daphne.

"Jesus, Priscilla," Daphne’s voice came through, sounding entirely justified. "You are acting like a totally insecure, crazy psycho. While you were flying, we threw a party at your place. I got drunk and left it there."

Next was Nathaniel’s voice, dripping with annoyance. "Priscilla, the wedding is right around the corner. Can you stop being so paranoid and totally unreasonable?"

I stared coldly at the phone, feeling nothing but sheer absurdity.

They didn't know—I had intentionally stuffed that bra under the sofa before leaving for my flight.

Daphne was lying through her teeth, and my fiancé of seven years couldn't even recognize my own underwear.

"Did you hear that, Priscilla?" Gabriel threw his hands up, looking hurt and innocent as he stepped closer. "You don't even believe your own brother and your best friend? If we don't even have basic trust, how are we supposed to get married?"

"Then let's not. The wedding is off."

Gabriel froze for a second before blowing up. "You're calling off the wedding over a stupid bra?! Priscilla, you are being completely irrational! You need to see a therapist!"

Before he could finish, his phone rang.

The moment he saw caller ID, his rage was instantly snuffed out. He quickly answered, muttered a few low, soothing words, grabbed his car keys, and headed for the door.

"Stay home and reflect on your attitude," he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he left, I grabbed my coat, hailed a cab, and tailed his Porsche.

The car eventually pulled up to a luxurious private villa. This was the exact house Gabriel had sworn would be my "wedding gift."

Right now, it was brightly lit and surrounded by luxury cars. Standing in the shadows outside the gate, I watched the lavish, loud birthday party on the lawn, the blood rushing in my ears.

In the crowd, I immediately spotted my brother Nathaniel, who was supposedly "working overtime," and Daphne, who was supposedly "staying home." They were holding champagne glasses, eagerly fawning over a woman in the center.

Her name was Florence Barlow.

A month ago, on my flight, Florence had screamed and accused me of stealing her expensive jewelry, slapping me right across the face in front of everyone. The incident blew up, causing me—a senior purser—to be demoted, investigated, and publicly disgraced.

And right now, Florence was wearing the exact diamond earrings Gabriel's mother had "left behind," and the exact watch Gabriel had fiercely denied knowing about.

Amidst the cheering crowd, Gabriel strode up to Florence, wrapped his arm around her waist, and gave her a deep, passionate kiss.

So the airplane scandal that nearly destroyed my career was no accident. Gabriel, Nathaniel, Daphne—the three people closest to me—had betrayed me all along. They teamed up with Florence to frame me, ruining my reputation just to clear the path for these cheating bastards and their twisted affair.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was an email. My transfer request to the Chicago base had been approved.

I took one last look at the people toasting on the lawn, put my phone away, and felt the last shred of despair vanish from my eyes. I didn't want to spend another second in this city.

I turned and walked toward the street.

"Priscilla?" Florence’s voice rang out from behind me. "Are you here for my birthday party too?"