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Zoey’s gaze once again fell on Fitch, who was becoming increasingly popular as the toast of the party. He held his glass with a
detached air, never drinking, but those who toasted him had no choice but to gulp down their drinks. He was the center of
attention, the star around which everyone orbited, whereas she felt like a nobody, insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
Clearly, they were from different worlds. She was just fooling herself, trying to force a connection that wasn’t there. Coral gave
her a gentle pat on the shoulder before drifting away. Zoey stood still for a few minutes until Mia’s shrill voice cut through the hum
of conversation. “There you are again, you little tramp! Why can’t you just disappear? Did you figure out where Fitch was and
follow him here on purpose?!” Mia was decked out in a soft pink gown that night, aiming for a demure look, but her words were
anything but as harsh as those of a street tough. “Zoey, right? A tramp, aren’t you?” The usual clique of phony friends circled
around Mia. Zoey recognized a few of them since they had been heckling her at recent gatherings, but she always chose to
company. Mia tilted her chin up, arrogance written all over her face. “Zoey, come with us!” They wouldn’t make a scene in public.
Mia was cautious about that. After all, Fitch had a soft spot for Zoey, and she dreaded the thought of him swooping in to defend
Zoey with a grand gesture of affection. So, if Mia was going to bully Zoey, it had to be somewhere private, quietly. To her delight,
Zoey was like dough in her hands, easily molded and bullied. Like now, they dragged Zoey into the ladies’ room and began
slapping her relentlessly. “Bitch! Stay away from Fitch.” “Mia, that slap was too weak. Watch how I do it.” Slap after slap echoed,
followed by their cackling laughter. It was like schoolyard bullying, tormenting Zoey for their twisted pleasure. Zoey’s cheeks
were swollen, and her carefully chosen blazer ripped open. Mia even took pictures. “That’s enough for today. Zoey, did you think
you could hide from me on the top floors of the company? Let me tell you, if you keep bugging Fitch, I’ll hit you every single time
I see you.” Mia’s face was a picture of smug satisfaction as she tossed her phone in her hand. “And if you dare climb into Fitch’s
bed, I’ll spread these
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shameful pictures for all to see. Let everyone know what a lowlife Maja’s assistant really is.” Zoey sat on the floor in silence. She
knew that resisting would only excite them more. Silence was her refuge, the only way to endure less suffering. Who in their
circle would dare to stand up to a heiress like Mia? Zoey had no choice but to take the hits. Mia walked out with her head held
high, and the restroom returned to calm. Zoey slowly stood up, feeling a sharp pain in her ankle. Only then did she realize she
had injured it when they had pushed her down. She approached the mirror and saw her face swollen. She felt surprisingly
indifferent, simply rating her crush on Fitch. If a perfect score was a hundred, after being bullied so many times, she figured she
was down to ninety. She expertly pulled out a mask from her bag and covered her bruised cheeks, then sprayed some pain relief
on her ankle. After composing herself, she forced herself to open the restroom door. But as she turned the hallway corner, she
froze. Fitch was standing there, three meters away. He probably didn’t know she was there. Holding a cigarette between his
fingers, he leaned back against the wall, his aura both sharp and nonchalant, his thoughts a mystery to all. A provocatively
dressed woman brushed past him, deliberately leaning into him. His expression changed instantly, and without a hint of mercy,
he pushed her away. “Get lost!” The woman stumbled away, shocked and teary-eyed. Zoey, watching from the corner, felt an odd
sense of comfort. At least he wasn’t just cruel to her, and he was harsh with any woman who threw herself at him. That was
worth an extra five points in her heart, she thought, feeling both sweet and miserable at the same time.