Chapter 1
Honestly, by the time I made the call, I was already losing my patience.
The company was still waiting for the funds to clear, yet Rex Cresswell's suddenly-appearing fiancée had been doing everything she could to stop me from withdrawing my own money.
The project was about to break ground. I could not afford delays at a time like this.
What I did not expect was for Rex's attitude to be even worse.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" he snapped the moment the call connected. "You've got some nerve ordering me around. You think you can go against the Cresswell family and bully my fiancée? Are you looking to get yourself killed?"
Then he hung up immediately.
Standing nearby, the client manager, Yara Nixon, let out a mocking laugh.
"And here I thought you had some kind of leverage." She looked at me with open contempt. "Turns out you're just bluffing. Didn't you notice? Rex doesn't even want to deal with you."
She folded her arms smugly. "I've seen plenty of women like you trying to marry into wealthy families, but no one is ever going to threaten my place as the future Mrs. Cresswell. You'd better get lost while I'm still being nice. If you really piss me off, you won't like what happens next."
The louder Yara got, the more wildly she gestured, until her hat suddenly slipped off her head.
Only then did I finally get a clear look at her.
As a private banking client manager, Yara was sporting a head full of aggressively dyed rainbow hair and wearing a leopard-print mini dress so tight and revealing it looked better suited to a nightclub than a bank.
I frowned instinctively. For a private bank, professionalism mattered more than anything. So how had someone dressed like this become a client manager?
Without realizing it, I voiced the thought aloud.
Yara arched an eyebrow and laughed coldly.
"Not everyone has to work for a living like you do." Her tone dripped with superiority. "I'm the future Mrs. Cresswell. I only took this job for fun. People like you will never understand how the upper class lives."
Before she even finished, several nearby employees hurried over to flatter her.
"Miss Nixon's right. Everyone knows Mr. Cresswell dotes on her."
"Exactly. She's the future mistress of the Cresswell family. Anyone who offends her is asking for trouble."
"Ma'am, you should apologize to Miss Nixon and leave immediately. Otherwise, don't blame us for being rude."
Watching them scramble to curry favor with her made my anger rise instantly.
I had hundreds of millions deposited in this private bank and had long since become one of their highest-tier VIP clients.
Under normal circumstances, every employee here should have known exactly who I was. And yet all it took was a Yara and the name of the Cresswell family for them to turn on me without hesitation. Clearly, these people had gotten far too comfortable.
I took a slow breath and pulled out my phone. "I seriously question this bank's professionalism," I said coldly. "I'll be filing a complaint."
The moment she heard that, Yara panicked. She rushed forward and raised her hand. "You b***h, who gave you permission to report me?"
"You're the one who came here asking for trouble, insisting on taking my fiancé's money." Her voice grew sharper with every word. "The fact that I haven't already sent a woman like you to prison is me showing mercy. What else do you want?"
Just before her slap landed, I caught her wrist midair. My eyes turned cold. As the heir to the Carlisle family, I had never been taught to suffer humiliation from outsiders.
I was just about to return the slap when an angry shout suddenly rang out from the entrance.
"Stop!"
