The Slap That End 18 Years novel Chapter 3

**Inside the Fading Emerald Shadows Quiet Storms by Livia T. Rynn**

**Chapter 3**

It was almost surreal how quickly Joseph and Yvonne seemed to connect. One moment, they were merely acquaintances, and the next, they were sharing jokes and laughter as if they had known each other for years. I hardly noticed the shift until it became impossible to ignore.

Then one fateful day, our housekeeper arrived, balancing a tray with three servings instead of the usual two.

“There’s nothing here I like,” I grumbled, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with frustration and disappointment.

Joseph didn’t even lift his gaze from the reports sprawled before him. “We’re eating healthy today. Yvonne insists it’s important to cleanse our systems every now and then,” he replied, his tone dismissive, as if I should simply accept this new regime without question.

Yvonne settled into the chair beside me, cradling her coffee like a trophy. Her voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with faux sympathy as she said, “Sorry, Lucille.”

I shot her a glare, my annoyance flaring. She merely arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile that felt like a challenge.

“Oops, I forgot you’re not into this healthy stuff,” she continued, her tone laced with mockery. “But you really should consider lighter meals, Lucille. I’ve noticed your clothes have been fitting a bit tighter lately. Unlike me…”

Her words trailed off, but the smirk on her face spoke volumes.

“You really do love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?” I retorted, my voice low but sharp. “Let’s get one thing straight—we are not friends. And for the record, those skin-tight clothes you’re so proud of? They’re not doing what you think they are.”

The office fell into an uncomfortable silence, the air thick with tension. Yvonne looked as if I had slapped her, her perfectly applied eyeliner twitching with barely contained rage.

Finally, Joseph set down his papers, a frown etched on his face. “Lucy, you’ve gone too far.”

This was the same guy who used to defend me when others called me a crybaby, yet here he was, reprimanding me for standing up for myself against another girl.

“I’ve gone too far? Looks like I’m just crashing your little party,” I shot back, a cold laugh escaping my lips as I spun on my heel, ready to leave.

But Joseph instinctively pulled me back, just like he used to when those bullies cornered me in middle school.

This time, however, his arms carried the scent of another woman’s perfume, and his voice was tinged with irritation. “Fine, I’ll have the housekeeper make something you like tomorrow. Don’t be upset, alright?”

Yvonne’s expression darkened instantly, her eyes narrowing.

From that day forward, Yvonne’s jabs at me became even more relentless.

When I arrived at work one morning with a small trinket dangling from my bag, she wasted no time. She placed a hand over her mouth, her voice rising an octave as she exclaimed, “Wow. Chanel with… that thing? Lucille, what a bold choice. I’m honestly speechless.”

“Who even still likes that stuff? All the cool kids are into edgy collectibles now. Get with the times, bumpkin.”

The guys around us erupted into laughter, unable to contain their amusement.

At lunch, I took a moment to wipe my cutlery with a napkin, hoping to maintain some semblance of dignity.

But Yvonne immediately nudged the guy beside her, her voice dripping with mock concern as she shrieked, “Oh my god, are we too fancy for ordinary cutlery now? What’s wrong? Is the royal palace missing its precious princess?”

The guys played along, hamming it up like it was the best joke they’d heard all week.

When the annual desk shuffle rolled around, I found myself lugging my monitor across the office, my arms protesting with every step.

Just as I paused to catch my breath, Yvonne slammed her hands on the table and called out, turning the office into a circus. “Check it out—our princess can’t even move her own monitor! Any knights wanna come to her rescue?”

She and her friends burst into laughter, some of them snapping pictures and filming as if it were a grand performance.

At first, Joseph merely frowned, muttering, “Alright, don’t take it too far.”

But Yvonne giggled, her tone flirtatious. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Lucy is always so proper. I was just trying to help her come out of her shell a little.”

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