The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 125

One invitation after another, Catherine wrote Lance’s name with bold, confident strokes. Her handwriting always looked sharp and elegant, each letter standing out on the sea of red invitations. After a while, her hand started to ache. She paused, rubbing her sore fingers, her gaze drifting over the stack of bright red envelopes that seemed to glare back at her. There were hundreds left, and she knew she’d be at this all day.

Meanwhile, Shirley sat at her desk, staring at the screen in a daze. The budget sheet in front of her made her seriously question her life choices. An eight-figure engagement party. Just a fraction of that budget was more than she could ever hope to make in her whole life. The thing was, as she looked closer, she spotted a bunch of little loopholes. If she bent the numbers just a bit, the profit she could skim off was... Well, it made her heart race.

She glanced over her shoulder at Catherine, then at the others around the office. Nobody seemed to notice her. Quickly, she tore off the budget sheet and slipped it into her pocket, her heart pounding. The temptation made her uneasy, and she grew quieter as the hours passed.

Catherine was so focused on her work that she barely noticed time passing until lunch. She was about to order some takeout when Michelle suddenly appeared, almost out of nowhere, and slid into the seat beside her.

“Catherine, are you finished for the morning?”

“Hey, Michelle. Yeah, I was just about to order some takeout. Want to join me?” Catherine looked up, a little surprised.

Michelle shook her head, grabbing Catherine’s wrist and pulling her up before she could object. “Takeout’s no good. Too greasy. Come on, let’s get some real food.”

Before Catherine could protest, Michelle had already grabbed her coat and bag. Catherine hurried after her, trying to keep up. “I’ve got a lot to finish this afternoon. Seriously, I shouldn’t be gone long.”

Michelle waved her off, draping the brown coat over Catherine’s shoulders. “Relax. It’s just lunch. We’ll be quick. Besides, they don’t pay for overtime at noon. If you don’t finish, just stay a bit late tonight.”

Catherine didn’t care about overtime pay. She just wanted to get everything done, but Michelle wasn’t taking no for an answer. In a few minutes, they reached a restaurant on the busy commercial street.

“Why are we having Western food?” Catherine asked as Michelle led her to a table by the window, table four.

But before she could say more, she noticed someone already sitting there. A man. He looked up as they approached.

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