Chapter 3

I let out an exaggerated sigh, casting a longing glance at him. "You know, Jasper used to dictate every aspect of my life. He'd even choose my outfits. But now?" I paused briefly, shrugging lightly. "I suppose I'm at liberty to do as I please. No one's holding me back anymore."

Internally, I smirked. "If I don't dress this way, how else can I lure you in and make him envious?"

Andrew remained quiet, but I noticed his expression soften. He reached out to increase the car's temperature, enveloping us in a cozy warmth.

Upon reaching the restaurant, he exited first, removing his long coat and placing it over my shoulders. The winter air was frigid, and snow crunched beneath our feet. Instinctively, I linked my arm with his, seeking his warmth as we entered the establishment.

As soon as we stepped inside, I caught sight of Jasper. He stood motionless, his dark eyes widening in shock. Clearly, my presence was unexpected.

This wasn't my first dramatic exit from home. Over time, Jasper had grown accustomed to my behavior. Whenever jealousy struck, I'd confront him, expecting affection and apologies. When that failed, he'd simply ignore me until I calmed down. Then, with a simple gesture, I'd return to him.

Not tonight.

His dark gaze fixed on Andrew's coat draped over my shoulders. The tension in his jaw was evident. I averted my eyes, casually removing the coat and returning it to Andrew.

Taking a seat beside Andrew, I removed my fur wrap, revealing just enough skin to draw attention. The neckline of my dress and its shimmering fabric were impossible to overlook. Every eye at the table turned towards me.

Jasper's expression darkened. He coughed uncomfortably and excused himself to the restroom.

Upon his return, the scene before him only worsened. Andrew was carefully placing peeled shrimp into my bowl. It was effortless. While Jasper was away, I played my role perfectly. With a playful tone, I informed Andrew that I wanted shrimp but couldn't peel them myself due to an allergy to the shells. Without hesitation, Andrew, ever thoughtful, peeled half a plate of shrimp and neatly arranged them on my plate.

Jasper's face was stormy as he resumed his seat, his gaze burning into mine. Beneath his composed exterior, I could detect the anger he was struggling to contain.

The meal seemed endless, and as it concluded, I pushed my half-full glass of red wine towards Andrew.

As the night progressed, I nudged my partially consumed glass of red wine in Andrew's direction.

"I can't finish this. Would you mind helping?" I asked sweetly.

Andrew hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. "I drove here, Charlotte. I probably shouldn't. Perhaps Jasper could—"

I interrupted him with a mischievous, provocative smile. "Come on, Andrew. Don't be so cautious. Just a sip. I'll arrange a driver for you later."

My tone was intentional, challenging and flirtatious. Everyone at the table sensed the underlying provocation, and the atmosphere grew noticeably tense.

One of Jasper's friends chuckled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood. "What's going on here? Did you two have a disagreement?" Another chimed in, nudging Jasper with a grin. "You'd better step up your game, man. You wouldn't want your girl running off with someone else, would you?"

Jasper leaned back in his chair, his smirk cold and calculated. "Let her try," he said, his tone dripping with derision. "We'll see if she has the charm to actually succeed."

His confident tone was infuriating but unsurprising. Jasper had every reason to believe he was untouchable. He'd taken control of his father's company straight out of university and was already making waves in the business world. Meanwhile, I was aware of the whispers that followed me: that without him, I'd struggle to make ends meet.

One of his friends leaned in and whispered, "Charlotte, perhaps you should talk to him. He's clearly upset."

To everyone else, it seemed obvious that I couldn't survive without Jasper. Even my actions that night appeared to be a desperate attempt to win him back in their eyes. But this time, I wasn't playing by their rules. I lifted my wine glass, held it to Andrew's lips, and tilted it until he reluctantly took a sip.

Later that night, back in the hotel, I opened the messaging app and added a contact named 'Sweet Orange.' My friend request was quickly accepted.

Me: [Hey, your advice worked perfectly. That jerk's expression was priceless—he was livid! Thanks.]

Sweet Orange: [Haha! I'm pleased to hear it. What did you do? Give me all the details.]

I typed out a lengthy paragraph describing the restaurant incident. I received a reply almost immediately.

Sweet Orange: [Not bad, but I don't think it's sufficient. He probably believes you're just trying to provoke him. If you truly want to make an impact, you'll need to push harder.]

Me: [What do you suggest?]

Sweet Orange: [Visit his friend's place. Stay the night and take a picture. Leave evidence. Trust me, it'll drive him insane.]

Sweet Orange added another message, a word of caution:

[But honestly, I think you should carefully reconsider if you're planning to reconcile with him. He doesn't sound like a good partner. Are you certain he's worth all this effort?]

I responded with a thumbs-up emoji, already feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. The following evening, I found myself standing before Andrew's door, hand poised to knock.