"Miss, I've told you—you can't go in there!"
The bodyguard stared at the stunning woman before him, his voice laced with exasperation.
How many times had he stopped her already? Yet she kept pushing forward, determined to barge in. If she weren’t so breathtakingly beautiful, he would’ve thrown her out long ago.
"Who are you calling 'miss'?"
Rebecca crossed her arms, her lips curling into a smirk as she shot him a disdainful look.
Though she wore a smile, her eyes were icy—like a venomous beauty, alluring yet deadly.
"Ma'am, you—"
The bodyguard didn’t want to get rough with someone so striking, so he switched to a more respectful term.
But before he could finish, Rebecca cut him off coldly.
"I'm not some 'miss,' and I'm certainly not just any 'ma'am.' I'm your CEO Miller's fiancée. You can address me as Mrs. Miller."
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze smoldering with confidence and charm.
The moment those words left her lips, the bodyguards froze.
His fiancée? Then who was the woman already inside the private room?
While they stood dumbfounded, Rebecca seized the chance, shoving past them and slipping inside.
"If you don’t let me in now, how am I supposed to become your Mrs. Miller~?"
Her words snapped the bodyguards out of their daze. But by the time they tried to stop her, it was already too late!
Rebecca pushed open the private room door, and there he was—a man who carried himself like royalty.
*Just as I expected—powerful presence. Seems I picked the right target this time.*
"Sis? What are you doing here?"
Beside the man stood a woman in a cocktail dress, glaring daggers at Rebecca as if she wanted to tear her apart.
"Carrie?"
Rebecca feigned surprise, then let out a slow, knowing "Ohhh."
"So *that's* why you've been getting breast implants and face lifts lately—prepping for this blind date with President Miller, huh?"
She sauntered in without hesitation, her playful tone laced with sarcasm. The click of her stilettos against the floor echoed with each step, her long, porcelain legs making the scene almost intoxicating.
Her gaze briefly flickered toward the man, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment.
With every step forward, the air grew heavier, the man’s icy aura pressing down on her like an abyss. Rebecca’s chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
But she couldn’t back down now—not when revenge was at stake.
"Sis, President Miller is right here. Let’s not joke around, okay?" Alice cooed sweetly, putting on the act of a loving sister.
"Just kidding? I'm simply helping President Miller get to know you better, lest he accidentally swallows some silicone filler one day."
Her words cut like a knife, leaving Carrie feeling utterly eviscerated. Yet her casual demeanor made it impossible to lash out at her. With just a faint smile, she could dismiss everything as mere banter—as if taking offense would only prove you couldn't take a joke. No matter how furious Carrie was, she couldn't possibly lose her temper in front of James.
"I presume this must be the renowned Miss Rebecca," James finally broke his silence, his cool gaze settling on her.
Her skin was flawless, as pale as fresh snow, without a single visible pore. Those peach-blossom eyes could lure anyone in within seconds, yet their gaze remained strikingly clear. She embodied both innocence and allure—two seemingly incompatible traits that coexisted effortlessly in her.
Dressed in a peach-colored cocktail dress, she revealed glimpses of her smooth, porcelain arms and a hint of her toned midriff. Honey-colored curls cascaded carelessly over her shoulders, with one playful strand slipping into her collar. As she lightly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the delicate curve of her collarbone came into view.
This doll-like woman sent an unfamiliar ripple through James's heart—a sensation he'd never experienced before.
"President Miller knows me?"
Rebecca rested her chin on her hands, gazing at James with an innocent yet dazzlingly sweet smile.
"You've practically played your way through every eligible bachelor in town, making headlines in the gossip columns every day. You're practically a household name—or should I say, infamous." James deliberately paused at the end, letting his words hang in the air, hoping Rebecca would mistake his sarcasm for praise.
Seeing his tone toward Rebecca, Carrie relaxed slightly.
"Mr. Miller, keeping such close tabs on my news—could it be you have a crush on me?" Far from taking offense, Rebecca only smiled more provocatively.
The corner of James’s lips curled upward. This woman was intriguing. Even after his jab, she remained unruffled. Was she genuinely thick-skinned, or just shameless?
"Sis, I know you’ve always had expensive tastes, but this is all I have for now. Take it, and if it’s not enough, I’ll try to scrape together more later. Mr. Miller and I still have matters to discuss..." Carrie timidly pulled a bank card from her purse and offered it to Rebecca.
She looked like a helpless little rabbit, while Rebecca might as well have been a relentless vixen squeezing her dry.
Rebecca let out a soft, mocking laugh. What a clever double entendre—lifting herself up while putting Rebecca down.
She snatched the card and tossed it straight into the trash.
"Sis!" Carrie’s voice quivered with hurt, her eyes welling up with tears.
With tear-filled eyes, she cast a pleading glance at James, but the man ignored her completely, leaving her utterly humiliated.
"That card has a limit of two million at most. Even your silicone implants cost more than that, don’t they? You think you can fob me off with pocket change?" Rebecca’s dismissive tone sent Carrie into a rage.
"Rebecca, no matter what, I’m still your sister. How could you slander me like this? You knew today was my matchmaking meeting with President Miller, yet you came here to ruin it. What’s your game?"
Since playing the fragile damsel wasn’t working, she might as well drop the act. She’d expose Rebecca for what she really was—better that than letting her seduce James away.
"You know exactly what my game is. If you don’t, go ask your mother what *her* game was back then—what she did to *mine*!"
Rebecca’s icy glare silenced Carrie instantly.
"How dare you accuse—"
Carrie desperately tried to salvage her image, but Rebecca cut her off without mercy.
"Get out. I have business to discuss with President Miller now."
"*You* should be the one leaving! Today is *my* meeting with him!"
Carrie was beyond caring. She had to defend her territory. This was *James Miller*—the most eligible bachelor in the city, the man every woman dreamed of marrying!
She’d fought hard for this chance. There was no way she’d back down now.
"Say one more word, and I’ll slap you!"
Rebecca shot to her feet, arm raised, ready to strike.
"How...how could you do this? President Miller, save me..."
Carrie wept pitifully, her face streaked with tears as she desperately reached out to James for help.
Yet the man only wore an expression of utter impatience. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he signaled to those nearby.
Michael Smith, who had served as James’s personal assistant since childhood, understood immediately. Without hesitation, he summoned two bodyguards, who swiftly seized Carrie by the arms and dragged her out.
In her frantic struggle, one of her shoes was left behind in the private room. Michael frowned at the sight, then unceremoniously hurled it out the third-floor window. A woman who displeased President Miller deserved no courtesy.
"It seems President Miller still has excellent taste~"
Rebecca swayed over seductively, her delicate hand resting lightly on James’s shoulder.
Michael’s heart instantly leapt to his throat—he was certain he was about to witness Rebecca being flung over James’s shoulder and slammed onto the floor!
