Chapter 4

Noticing my silence, she gently cocked her head, intently observing my expression.

"I've been meaning to mention this since we first encountered each other—don't you think there's a striking resemblance between us, little sister?"

At that instant, I experienced an unprecedented level of shame and embarrassment. Confronted with her victorious stare, I could only hastily retreat.

Once back in the private chamber, the warmth of my coworkers began to melt away my frozen nerves. Just as I was about to dismiss that unpleasant interaction, the room's entrance suddenly opened.

Upon seeing the two tables filled with people, Ethan momentarily hesitated, then fixed his gaze on me. I could detect the suppressed rage in his eyes, though I couldn't fathom the reason.

He tightened his fists before finally uttering my name, demanding I step outside. Confused, I followed him out, only to receive a forceful slap in the hallway.

It was the first time he had ever struck me.

As I gazed at him in shock, he showed no signs of remorse or uncertainty—only pure wrath.

"Why did you shove Amanda? You were aware of her sprained ankle! I told you I'd clarify everything when we returned, but you had to handle it so roughly?"

My cheek stung with pain.

In the distance, Amanda limped towards us, her blouse disheveled, stained with liquid and grime. Just as I was about to offer an explanation, she dramatically collapsed to the ground.

Without hesitation, Ethan pushed past me and hurried over, embracing her in his arms.

"I told you I'd bring her to apologize to you. Why did you come out here?" he said.

Although his words seemed admonishing, his tone was filled with affection.

Teary-eyed, Amanda shook her head at him. "It's not a big deal; she didn't do it intentionally. Don't be so harsh on her."

"If her brother discovers you struck his sister, it might damage the relationship between you two," she added.

At the mention of my brother, an odd look crossed Ethan's face, but his determination returned as he looked back at Amanda.

"Her brother entrusted her to my care, so it's my responsibility to correct her when she's wrong," he stated firmly.

I laughed cynically and couldn't help but ask, "What exactly did I do wrong? Even in a courtroom, you need concrete evidence to find someone guilty. Haven't you considered how unjust it is to judge me and even physically assault me without knowing the truth?"

Ethan clenched his fists, glaring at me. "You knew there was no surveillance in the restroom, so you thought you could act without consequences."

I felt both amused and hurt by the unfairness.

"If there are no cameras, then how can you be certain it was me?"

"Why would Amanda falsely accuse you? She must have a reason, right? Besides, I've known her for years—she's not the type to lie."

"And I am?" I questioned, my voice barely concealing the resentment.

After seven years together, I believed he would trust my character, if nothing else. But I was mistaken. In Amanda's presence, even seven years meant nothing.

A single word from her was enough to condemn me, leaving me no opportunity to defend myself.

It was obvious favoritism, a clear display of bias. And I, ultimately, was nothing more than a substitute, a replacement with nothing to contribute.

Seeing no use in further debate, I turned to leave, disregarding Ethan's angry orders to stay.

With the imprint of his slap still on my face, I didn't want to spoil my colleagues' mood, so I opted not to return to the private room. Instead, I went to the reception, settled the bill and sent them a message:

"An urgent matter came up, so I had to depart. Enjoy the food and drinks—it's my treat!"