Chapter 3

Over the next two weeks, Vivian seemed like a different person at the office.

She wore exquisite makeup every day, her skin was literally glowing, and she walked around with her chin tilted up, speaking with a newfound sense of superiority.

She told everyone she was getting professional skin management at a luxury clinic, but she never mentioned she was using my card.

When some coworkers curiously asked where she went, she just smiled mysteriously.

"Oh, a close friend took me there. It's strictly referral-only. Regular people can't even get an appointment."

Listening to her, I only felt disgust.

I thought that three-hundred-dollar treatment was the end of it—the price I paid for being soft-hearted.

But at the end of the month, I opened my banking app to check my auto-pay accounts, and a charge of $1,250 stared back at me.

"Your card ending in 6051 has processed a charge of $1,250 at Sterling MedSpa."

I stared at the numbers, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. I had barely gone to the clinic this month!

I immediately called my bank to confirm. Yes, the transactions were real. Several large charges had been made, all from that MedSpa.

My hands shook violently as I gripped my phone.

I drove straight to the clinic. The receptionist greeted me with her standard professional smile.

"Welcome back, Miss Chloe."

I slammed my phone on the counter, my voice cold. "Pull up my recent transaction history. Right now."

The manager, Mr. Sterling, heard the commotion and hurried over to personally pull up the records.

When the statement was printed out, it was a long, ridiculous list. Looking at it, I almost fainted.

First charge: Vivian, Gold Therapy, $300.

Second charge: Vivian, brought a ten-year-old girl (Lily), deep-pore cleansing for both, $200.

Third charge: Vivian, brought an older woman (Martha), premium anti-aging therapy, $400.

Fourth charge: Vivian, brought two men (Peter and Arthur), deep-tissue stress relief and scalp therapy, $350.

She hadn't just been going there for weekly luxury treatments herself. She had dragged her entire family—her daughter, her mother, her husband, and her father-in-law—and charged it all to me!

And the most infuriating part? Every single line item had a note: Requested tier-one specialist, added premium ampoule serum infusion.

This wasn't "trying out" a clinic. She was using my membership card as her personal ATM!

Manager Sterling was sweating, apologizing profusely.

"I am so sorry, Miss Chloe. This was our mistake."

"The lady kept insisting she was your sister-in-law and your closest friend, so we thought..."

"Did she sign for these?" I cut him off.

The manager looked uneasy. "She said you gave her full verbal authorization, so... she didn't sign."

What a "closest friend." What "verbal authorization"!

Holding those paper receipts, I was shaking with sheer rage.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

It was a voice note from Vivian.

I tapped play. Her cheerful, incredibly entitled voice echoed in my ears.