Chapter 7 Never Seen Such a Shameless Person Before

"The paperwork isn't finalized yet."

Michael said this with complete confidence, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Aurora bit her lower lip, desperately turning her head away. "If you have needs, go find your Tiffany!"

"Shut up." Michael gripped her chin, his thumb pressed against the corner of her lips, his gaze dark and unreadable. "You started this."

Their breaths mingled as his fingers slid down along her collar.

Aurora's mind was screaming rejection, but her body was gradually betraying her in his familiar warmth.

She hated herself for being so weak.

Hated it completely.

A phone rang.

Not hers—Michael's.

The ringtone was particularly jarring in the quiet living room, one ring after another, persistent as a death knell.

Michael's movements stopped.

He closed his eyes briefly and pushed himself up.

Aurora turned her head. It was Tiffany calling.

The ringtone was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the lingering tension between them.

Michael answered the call and turned away, keeping his voice low.

But the apartment was too small. Aurora heard every word clearly.

"Michael... where are you? I had a nightmare. The hospital room is so dark, I... I'm scared."

The voice on the other end was fragile to the extreme, tinged with tears and breathlessness.

Michael was silent for three seconds. "I'll come now."

He hung up, stood, straightened his collar, and glanced back at Aurora.

"You should sleep."

The sound of him changing shoes came from the entryway, then the click of the door closing.

The apartment fell completely silent.

Aurora lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Her collar was still askew, her lips still carrying traces of his breath.

She suddenly found it funny—so funny her eyes stung.

All Tiffany had to do was say "I'm scared," and he dropped everything to go to her.

And herself?

Alone with a sick daughter, bullied by servants, nearly assaulted at a bar—which time hadn't she been scared?

But no one had ever stopped for her fear.

Aurora covered her eyes with the back of her hand, not letting anything fall.

Enough.

This time it was truly enough.

She sat up, patted the wrinkled cushions on the sofa, walked into the bedroom to check on sleeping Julia, and bent down to kiss her forehead.

Then she returned to the table, turned on the lamp, and spread out the sketches Michael had looked through.

Her phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.

"Ms. Rivera, this is Smith Group HR. Your application for Design Director has passed initial screening. Please attend an interview at headquarters tomorrow at 10 AM."

Aurora's heart skipped a beat.

Smith Group.

Second only to Johnson Group in Emerald City's commercial landscape, they'd expanded rapidly in recent years, practically vaulting into the top tier overnight.

She didn't remember applying there and had no idea why she'd received an interview invitation.

But considering it was an opportunity, Aurora decided to take a chance.

The next morning, after leaving Julia with the babysitter, she headed to Smith Group for the interview.

Smith Group headquarters was in Emerald City's financial center. The entire building's facade used parametric aluminum panel curtain walls, with arcs so precise that each panel's angle was unique.

Aurora stood in the lobby looking up. Professional instinct made her study it for three seconds—this design came from a European firm, extremely expensive.

After the receptionist verified her identity, she was directed to the meeting area on the thirty-second floor.

When she reached the meeting area, Aurora stopped before entering.

Someone sat on the sofa—pale blue cardigan, hair loosely pinned up, a cup of tea beside her, head down reading a design magazine.

Tiffany.

She looked up and smiled at Aurora, the kind of smile that was warm and appropriate, as if nothing had happened in the apartment stairwell last night.

"You're here? Please, sit."

Aurora stood still, her gaze sweeping the empty meeting area. No HR staff, no interviewers.

She understood.

"You arranged this interview."

Tiffany didn't deny it. She closed the magazine and set it aside, her posture relaxed.

"Not entirely. Smith Group really is hiring a Design Director. I just have some connections here and helped get your résumé in." She rested her chin on her hand. "What, not grateful?"

Aurora didn't sit, didn't leave. She wanted to see what Tiffany was really after.

"Go ahead."

Tiffany's smile faded slightly, replaced by a kind of appraisal, like examining a price-tagged commodity.

"Actually, there's no need to beat around the bush between us. I wanted to tell you Michael's going to marry me." She sipped her tea and set down the cup. "You spent three years in the Johnson family. Michael's been more than fair to you. He's given you all the dignity you deserve. The divorce is processing, the child situation can be discussed—I'm not unreasonable."

She pulled a bank card from her bag and placed it on the coffee table, pushing it toward Aurora.

"Five million. Enough for you and the child for a long time. Take the money, go to another city, go back to your hometown—just don't appear in front of Michael again."

The bank card slid across the glass table and stopped near Aurora's hand.

Aurora looked down at the card. Didn't reach for it.

Several seconds of silence.

"Ms. Rivera," she looked up, voice quiet, "if you're marrying him anyway, why not have Michael talk to me directly?"

Tiffany's eyelashes trembled.

"You don't dare," Aurora continued, "or you asked him and he refused?"

Tiffany's smile finally cracked—just for a moment, quickly recovered, but her fingers unconsciously tightened around the cup handle.

"I'm being kind."

"Then don't bother." Aurora pushed the card back. "Five million—I can earn that myself."

Tiffany stared at her for three seconds, then suddenly laughed, the sound laced with barbs.

"Earn it yourself? How, entertaining clients at bars? Or by copying my designs?" She tilted her head. "Oh right, Michael already told me about yesterday. Taking questionable proposals to con clients, getting exposed on the spot—tsk, truly shameless."

Aurora looked at her. "Copying your designs? You're saying you're Jane?"

Tiffany said proudly, "Of course. Three years ago I also provided Michael's company with those design documents, helped him through the crisis. What do you have to compare with me?"

Aurora almost laughed in disbelief. She'd never seen anyone so shameless.

She herself was Jane.

So where did Tiffany get those designs?

From her smug expression, she clearly believed Jane would never come after her.

But now wasn't the time to confront her about this.

"Are you finished?" Aurora picked up her bag from the side. "If so, I'm leaving."

"You—?"

Tiffany felt like she'd punched cotton.

She stood up, picked up the teacup, tilted her hand, and dumped the entire cup of warm tea onto Aurora's chest.