Chapter 5 Permission

• She was one of the secretaries in Flint's office and often accompanied him to business events. Over time, Flint's behavior inflated her ambitions, making her carry an air of arrogance and superiority as if she were destined to replace Lucille as the next Mrs. Ashworth.
• "Madam, you're here again."
• The woman tilted her sharp chin slightly, her gaze dripping with disdain as she looked at Lucille. The way she emphasized the word "again" was deliberate and mocking.
• Lucille met her gaze with a polite smile and greeted her, "Ms. Veje."
• Molly's eyes drifted to Lucille's empty hands, a flicker of contempt flashing in her eyes.
• "Why didn't you bring Mr. Ashworth lunch today? Or have you finally realized that he's been throwing it all away?"
• Molly didn't bother hiding the smugness in her tone, and her words were laced with venom.
• Normally, out of consideration for Flint, Lucille wouldn't stoop to argue with a petty secretary like her. But now, she had nothing holding her back—not even Flint. A mere secretary? Please.
• Molly, while speaking, was discreetly sizing Lucille up.
• Lucille wore a perfectly tailored dress that radiated a sharp, professional elegance. Her face, impossibly exquisite, was something Molly could never deny, no matter how much she envied her.
• What stung Molly even more was the unspoken aura of authority and confidence that Lucille exuded—something that made Molly instinctively wary.
• In her mind, Lucille was nothing more than a decorative trophy wife Flint married to appease his grandfather—a woman who cooked for Flint, yet couldn't win his affection. Molly saw herself, a well-educated, high-ranking professional in a major corporation, as superior in every way.
• Yet, despite all this, Molly couldn't suppress the jealousy bubbling up inside her when she looked at Lucille.
• It was this envy, combined with a deep-seated insecurity, that drove Molly to flaunt her supposed superiority whenever she had the chance.
• Seeing the subtle smile on Lucille's lips, Molly was ready to hurl another insult. But before she could say anything, her jaw was suddenly grabbed with a fierce grip.
• Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the woman in front of her—still smiling, but with eyes so icy they seemed to pierce right through her.
• "Did I give you permission to act like this?"
• Lucille's voice was calm, but her grip tightened on Molly's chin.
• For a woman who looked so slender and delicate, Lucille's strength left Molly completely immobilized.
• "Let… go…" Molly tried to speak, but the words came out garbled from how her face was being pinched. Her normally composed and confident face now looked both ridiculous and pathetic.
• "I have a bit of a bad temper," Lucille said casually, her tone almost bored. "If you move again, I might just dislocate your jaw."
• Though Lucille's voice was soft, the freezing chill in her eyes made Molly shut her mouth immediately.
• "I always wondered why Flint hardly ever came home," Lucille murmured, her smile widening. "Turns out he's been keeping a little b*tch like you around at the office."
• "You…"
• Molly's eyes flickered with sudden hope as she noticed someone behind Lucille. Her expression quickly shifted to one of pitiful innocence as she stammered out a defense:
• "Madam, you've got it all wrong! There's nothing between me and Mr. Ashworth. I'm just his secretary! Attending events with him is strictly part of my job. You have it all wrong…"