Part 3My Rival Is My Biggest Fan

I wiped the smile from my face and looked up at the sea of executives and assistants, all of whom currently looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them whole.

I picked up the silver knife, cut a slice of the rejected cake with a light chuckle, and set it on a plate. "I can't eat this, but you all shouldn't let it go to waste. Make sure you thank Mr. Cole for his generosity."

Parker’s smile looked more like a grimace. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me out into the hallway and back toward my office.

"Bonnie, forgetting your birthday was my fault, but did you really have to humiliate me in front of the entire floor?!" he hissed, dropping his voice. "It was the thought that counted! Would it have killed you to take one bite?"

The floating comments were merciless.

“This is exactly what tech bros do. They can't be bothered to remember a woman’s basic preferences, and then they blame her for 'humiliating' them when their low-effort gesture fails.”

“Take the rose-colored glasses off. Proof that a man is just a man. Doesn't matter how rich he is, he’s still weaponizing his incompetence.”

“I am begging you on my hands and knees, look at our girl Hannah! The party is tonight and she’s probably been trying on battle armor since 8 AM!”

I wrenched my wrist out of his grip and walked straight to my desk.

The timeline on the joint venture was still dragging. Perhaps realizing he had crossed a line, Parker leaned his hands heavily on my desk, took a deep breath, muttered a hasty apology, and volunteered to secure the VIP room at a private club for tonight’s party.

"Suit yourself," I said, not looking up.

Adult birthdays are rarely just about cake; they are battlegrounds for leverage and corporate probing. Tonight would be a test of how solid my relationship with Parker really was, and by extension, the merger of our two families' empires.

I maintained a polite, impenetrable smile throughout the evening. Parker hovered, trying to play the perfect host, but continually found himself hitting a brick wall.

Once the initial wave of networking died down, he looked at me, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Bonnie, I was wrong. The cake debacle won't happen again." He gestured to the lavish room. "Do you like what I did with the place? Guess what I got you for your actual gift."

Before I could even form a response, a commotion rippled near the entrance.

It truly was the entrance of a queen demanding her subjects part the Red Sea.

Hannah Sinclair swept in, dripping in a breathtaking couture gown, her chin tilted up with that signature, disdainful arrogance. She marched straight up to me, coming to a halt right next to Parker.

She looped her arm lightly through his. "Bonnie, you don't mind, do you?"

Before Parker could even react to her touch, Hannah furrowed her brow, sweeping her gaze over the room with a theatrical click of her tongue.

"Bonnie, has your taste really deteriorated this much? It seems I’m not the only one who hates you. Someone deliberately decorated this entire room with the exact roses you despise. And since when do you drink champagne? You only ever drink fruit wine."

She systematically tore the party to shreds. From the greeters to the lighting, from the alcohol to the ambient scent, from the floral arrangements to the catering.

She didn't even notice that the blood had completely drained from Parker’s face.

She delivered the final, fatal blow: "This hits every single one of your red flags with terrifying precision. Who designed this? I need to shake their hand."

I offered her a serene, amused smile and tilted my chin toward Parker.

Embarrassment doesn't just evaporate; it transfers.

Hannah’s hand subtly slipped out from the crook of Parker’s arm, acting as if she had never touched him at all.

“Hahaha, she is so cute. When a cat knocks over a vase, they just pretend it never happened, therefore it never happened.”

“See? Your greatest enemy knows you best. They are in the same frame! Enemies to lovers incoming.”

“Can the man please exit the chat? I only want to see the rival’s meticulously chosen gift (strikeout) flex (check).”

After I finished another round of corporate pleasantries, she unabashedly wedged herself right between Parker and me. Completely ignoring the social cues of the room, she pulled a sleek glass bottle from her clutch and spritzed the air with aggressive flair.

"Bonnie. Does it smell good?"

It did. It was my absolute favorite niche European fragrance. The same one I had worn since college.

"Do you like it? What a shame. I bought out every single bottle of available stock in the country. Even if you love it, you can't get it. You’ll just have to settle for whatever generic trash you can find."

As she spoke, her eyes flicked intentionally toward the small gift box resting on the table beside me.

Parker’s gift. Also perfume.

The silence in our immediate circle grew physically painful. The onlookers wanted to laugh, but didn't dare, their eyes darting nervously to Parker’s ashen face.

It was utterly absurd. The supposed "other woman" knew the girlfriend better than the boyfriend of five years did.

"Let me make one thing clear," Hannah hissed, leaning in close. "Whatever you like, I will take it from you!"

I rested my chin in my hand, my eyes crinkling with undisguised amusement. "So, you know exactly what I like."

"O-of course I do!"