Chapter 252
Before Trey even made it to the office, the company’s internal chat had already detonated.
A flagship project—one that had been carefully built over months—had suddenly collapsed under a scandal so severe it was no longer just internal gossip. Government agencies had stepped in. Formal inquiries had begun.
And if the issue couldn’t be contained, the partnership with the Morrison Group would be terminated entirely.
By morning, Fox Group was no longer discussing strategy.
It was discussing survival.
That afternoon, in the central district’s Olson Group Toy Center, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Inside a lavishly prepared VIP suite, staff moved quickly, adjusting decorations and laying out an extravagant spread. Premium liquor lined the tables, and the entire space had been reserved for a private birthday celebration.
It looked less like a party and more like a display of status.
“Winnie.”
Veronica’s voice cut through the busy room like silk over glass.
“You know who’s coming today. Don’t embarrass the family.”
Winnie, dressed in a standard store uniform, carefully adjusted a row of plush toys. Her movements were precise, practiced—as she had long stopped expecting courtesy from the voice behind her.
Veronica continued anyway.
“If you serve them well, the performance bonus is yours. If you don’t…” A faint smile touched her lips. “Well, Dad will hear about it.”
Winnie didn’t respond.
Not even a glance.
She finished aligning the display, then walked past Veronica as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture in the room.
Veronica’s smile tightened—but she didn’t react. She had learned long ago that Winnie didn’t rise to provocation anymore.
And more importantly, today wasn’t about Winnie.
Today was about the guests.
Half an hour later, the entire staff lined up at the entrance.
Winnie stood at the very front.
When the cars arrived, her gaze lifted on instinct—
And froze.
The color drained from her face in an instant.
Michael stepped out first.
And he wasn’t alone.
A slender woman clung gently to his arm. Elegant. Refined. The kind of composure that came from wealth and certainty. She smiled softly as she looked at him, as though the world outside him didn’t exist at all.
Winnie’s fingers went numb.
For a split second, she forgot to breathe.
Michael’s eyes landed on her almost immediately.
He stopped.
So did she.
Neither spoke.
The silence between them grew sharp enough to cut.
Then Veronica appeared, her voice perfectly timed, breaking the tension like a rehearsed cue.
“Michael, you’re here. Please come in.” She smiled brightly. “Everything is ready. Your friends are already waiting inside.”
She stepped forward and naturally guided him and the woman inside, her demeanor polished, effortless.
In her light pink designer outfit, Veronica looked every inch the privileged heiress. Beside her, Winnie—still in uniform—looked like she had been misplaced in someone else’s life.
Michael’s gaze lingered.
Confused.
Then unsettled.
Winnie Olson. The Olson family’s heiress.
So why was she here—wearing a staff uniform?
The woman beside Michael tilted her head slightly, smiling.
“Veronica Olson?” she asked pleasantly.
“Yes,” Veronica replied. “And you must be Miss Lindsay Starr. Michael’s fiancée.”
The word fiancée landed cleanly in the air.
Too clean.
Winnie’s lashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
So it was true.
Blind dates. Engagement talks.
Things she had heard about—things she had told herself she didn’t care about anymore.
And yet every rumor Veronica “accidentally” delivered had always found a way to sit too deeply under her skin.
Lindsay smiled, pleased. “Yes, that’s me.”
Veronica reached out politely. “Our families have met before. My father mentioned you.”
Her tone was casual, but every word was measured—intentional.
Lindsay brightened. “Really? That’s wonderful.”
She looped her arm more comfortably through Michael’s and followed Veronica inside without hesitation.
Winnie kept her eyes lowered the entire time.
Still.
Quiet.
Unmoved.
At least, outwardly.
As Michael walked past her, his steps slowed again.
Then stopped beside her.
His voice dropped low enough that only she could hear.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
A pause.
His eyes flicked to her name badge.
Store Manager.
His brows tightened slightly.
“You’re working here?” he murmured, disbelief threading through his tone.
His gaze lingered—like he was trying to reconcile the title on her chest with the woman she used to be.
“But even if you wanted to work for Olson Group,” he added quietly, “there’s no reason for you to be doing this kind of job.”
Winnie didn’t answer.
She simply stood there, unmoving—while the past she had carefully buried began to surface again, one breath at a time.