Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 163

Yvonne didn’t even blink at Tracy’s snide remark, and when Nydia looked about ready to snap back, Yvonne just held her firmly in place.

She eyed Tracy, whose makeup was flawless and expression smug, and said calmly, “You’ve got something stuck in your teeth.”

Tracy’s arrogance vanished instantly. Her eyes went wide in horror as she pressed her lips together and all but sprinted to the restroom to check her reflection.

One sentence—clean, swift, total victory.

“Nicely done.” Nydia grinned, giving Yvonne a thumbs-up.

Yvonne tugged her friend toward the stairwell, heading down to the first floor bathroom. She had no intention of wasting time with someone like Tracy.

After washing her hands, Yvonne lingered by the door, waiting for Nydia to finish up. With a few moments to spare, she decided to text Marico and give her a heads-up.

Yvonne: Do you see Mr. Jones from the branch office often? Tracy’s his secretary now.

Marico was busy, glancing at her laptop as she replied: The Mr. Jones from the branch working with Xenia?

Yvonne: That’s the one.

Marico: What’s his deal, thinking he can see me?

Yvonne couldn’t help but laugh at Marico’s haughty reply.

Yvonne: Just… be careful around him. Keep things low-profile.

Marico: If you ever need anything, just let me know. He’s just a VP. No big deal.

Yvonne quickly switched from one-handed to two-handed typing: No, no, it’s fine. I’ve got nothing personal against him. I just don’t want you slipping up.

After all, Mr. Jones was still the project lead. It wasn’t worth getting him fired over her doubts and suspicions.

That would be a bit much.

She heard Nydia humming as she came out of the stall, so Yvonne quickly wrapped up the conversation.

Yvonne: Gotta run, talk later.

She put her phone away without waiting for a response—no point being careless, even if they used burner accounts.

What the hell?

Yvonne and Nydia exchanged a look, quickened their pace, and peeked around the corner.

Tracy was being manhandled by a well-dressed, heavyset middle-aged woman, who was yanking at her blouse and skirt.

From the woman’s furious rant, it was clear—this was Mrs. Jones, and she’d come to catch her husband’s affair in the act.

“You little tramp! Seducing my husband, you filthy homewrecker! If I don’t teach you a lesson today, my name isn’t Mary Jones!”

“Everyone, look at her! Barely out of high school, crawling into bed with a married man for money. Disgusting little thing!”

Mrs. Jones, her face red with rage, grabbed Tracy’s hair and slapped her across the face again and again, the sound echoing down the hall. Tracy’s makeup was ruined, her face swelling up, and all she could do was try to shield herself and scream for help.

Mr. Jones rushed over, trying to play the hero, but was immediately restrained by two towering security guards.

“Let her go!” Mr. Jones roared, livid.

“Mr. Jones, help me! It hurts—she’s hurting me!” Tracy sobbed, her voice trembling as she pleaded with him.