If he''d known Victoria woulde out on top in the end, he wouldn''t have bothered worrying about blood ties. Siding with the real winner was always the smarter move.


    Old money families weren''t blind. He''d thought he could turn his biological daughter into a proper socialite by throwing money at her, but when you put Violet


    next to the real thing, she simply didn''t measure up.


    Violet pressed a trembling hand to her swollen cheek, eyes burning with resentment.


    "So from the very beginning, you targeted the McNeils. You deliberately pushed me toward him, hoping I''d be useful to you one day. Isn''t that right?"


    She couldn''t let it go.


    Simms clicked his tongue. "Please. I didn''t make you go after McNeil. It just happened youtched on to him—and you blew it. Did you really think I''d keep treating you like a princess when you''re no use to me at all?"


    A cold weight settled in Violet''s chest.


    This was her father. She''d thought, deep down, he must have loved her at least a little.


    But now, looking at the man before her, she realized even her foster parents, back in that little town, had been better than this. They never tried to profit off her, never forced her to do things she didn''t want to do.


    "Don''t make it sound so ugly. Deliberate or not, I never told you to go after McNeil. Out of all those rich kids, you could''ve picked any one. But McNeil''s Victoria''s husband. If you don''t have what it takes, don''t botherpeting. You made your bed-don''te crying to me now."


    Violet tried to protest, but Simms cut her off coldly.


    "That''s enough. Either you start treating our clients right, or there''s the door. Stay


    if you want, but if you''re not willing to work, get out."


    Forcing herself up from the floor, Violet wanted to snap back, to say something, anything but not a single word woulde.


    Simms pointed to the door. Humiliated, Violet walked out.


    As she passed through thepany''s corridors, gossip filled her ears like a thousand wasps.


    "Did you hear? Last night, thepanynded a big contract-all thanks to Ms. Marchand sleeping with the client."


    "Seriously? How much was the deal for? She must have some serious skills."


    "No kidding. She used to date President Langford, right? Even if she was just the mistress, she''s got her charms."


    "Once you''ve dated the richest man City, you''re not the same


    in the rest. Two hundred milli-k


    as


    heard."


    Each rumor pricked at Violet''s heart like a needle, leaving her raw and bleeding inside.


    Swallowing her anger, she marched into the PR department.


    But not a single person greeted her.


    Furious, she swept the room with her re. "What, are you all dead? Can''t you see I''m here?"


    The sudden outburst startled the PR staff into silence.


    "Wynn-Ms. Marchand?" her


    finally called, approaching


    with a paper cup in hand. Sheet


    stepped out for coffee.


    "It''s work hours. Where''d you run off to?"


    Violet''s eyesnded on the coffee, and she reached for it without thinking.


    But her assistant pulled it away in time.


    "What''s your problem? Give me the coffee. Now."


    "Sorry, Ms. Marchand, but I got this for myself. If you want some, you''ll need to


    get it yourself."


    Violet''s expression darkened instantly.


    "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    The assistant looked at her with


    open disdain. Everyone knew who''d really secured that contract-the PR department''s deputy manager had worked for months, learning


    everything about the client ing


    every pitch to their preferences. And


    yet this morning, word was that Violet had wined, dined, and slept with Mr. Miller to clinch the deal overnight.


    The whole department was furious.


    Violet, oblivious to all this, had stormed in barking orders, trying to vent the anger


    she''d taken from Simms onto them.