Chapter 22
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Yolanda stormed off, fuming inside. Now that Charles could pull dirty moves for Sophie, she could fight back for lan.
Just then, her phone rang–it was Scan. “Tessa,” he said. “The execs over at Starlight Entertainment just told me you gotta apologize to Sophie. Bet that’s Mr. Sinclair’s call.”
A man making his wife apologize to his mistress was totally crazy. Sean, who had known Yolanda for years, couldn’t help but mutter, “Sinclair’s really something else.”
Yolanda let out a laugh. She saw Charles clearly now–total pro at acting devoted, except when it came to his first love. “Sean, I’ll take care of it. Thanks for the heads–up.”
Sean sighed and hung up.
Yolanda kept driving, plotting how to make Sophie pay, when bam–someone rear–ended her, and it was Sophie.
Sophie was in a flashy sports car, sunglasses perched on her nose. When she saw she’d hit a 600–thousand–dollar Porsche, she let out a smirk.
Her manager whispered, “Stay in the car. You’re famous now–media’s everywhere. I’ll deal with this.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay. Make them pay. This car’s a gift from Charles.”
The manager cringed. They’d rear–ended the other car, and it was totally their fault–how could they ask for money?
Yolanda got out and recognized the manager, her brow furrowing.
Spotting Yolanda through the car window, Sophie took off her sunglasses and rolled the window down. “Oh, it’s you, Tessa,” she said— she’d heard her name from someone.
Sophie then pulled out a compact to touch up her makeup, looking way too pleased with herself as she asked, “By the way, how’s that talent? Heard he’s moving to Zack’s team. Think he’s even in shape to film right now?
“I told you not to cross me. I haven’t forgotten that slap you gave me. Apologize and bark like a dog for an hour, and I’ll let your talent off the hook. Otherwise, his luck would run out for good next time.”
Yolanda smiled, pulled out her phone, and started typing.
Sophie’s manager rushed over. “Ms. Gilbert, let’s work this out. You know if you tick off Mr. Sinclair, your career could go up in smoke, right?”
Yolanda didn’t even glance at him. She snapped a pic of Sophie and sent it to a paparazzo she knew. She’d even got the headline ready: [Famous Actress Rear–ends Car and Harasses the Victim.]
Yolanda wasn’t someone to mess with, especially not when she was still fired up about Ian getting hurt. If Sophie wanted a fight, Yolanda was ready to show her who’d end up knocked down harder.
The paparazzo moved fast. He posted the photo on a Twitter account with 10 million followers, even dropping the exact crash location.
As soon as the post went live, Yolanda saw the notification, hailed a cab, and took off.
Sophie scoffed, figuring Yolanda was just scared. She slid her sunglasses back on and said impatiently, “She’s gone. Let’s bounce.”
No sooner had she spoken than cars swarmed them, and cameras started flashing.
The manager’s face went pale. He grabbed his phone, pulled up Instagram, and saw the post had already racked up thousands of comments in minutes. “Oh no, this is a total disaster,” he cried.
Sophie’s car was stuck in the middle, boxed in. She flushed bright red, tears spilling down her cheeks as anger coiled in her chest.
Back home, Yolanda scrolled through the news. Sophie had been escorted away by cops–fined, and publicly called out for blocking
traffic.
She found it funny and let out a laugh. But who ***
Estate today?‘ she wondered.
she looked up, she froze–Renee was staring at her, curious. ‘Why’s Renee at Moonbay
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2:14 AM PP.
Chapter 22
Renee was big into celebrity gossip, so she couldn’t resist asking, “You saw the trending stuff, right? You know Sophie?”
Yolanda’s smile dimmed a little. “No. Do you?”
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Guilt flickered in Renee’s eyes–she knew Sophie was Charles’s secret fling. He’d even taken Sophie on business trips, and Renee had gotten a car to keep quiet.
Still, she shook her head. “Nope, never heard of her. Why would I know some movie star?”
A sarcastic glint flashed in Yolanda’s eyes. I used to be so naive, she thought. ‘Everyone knows Charles is cheating, and they’re all covering him.’
Renee leaned back, looking every bit the spoiled rich girl. “That face mask you made me last time worked great. Whip up some more.”
She said it like it was no big deal. She figured Yolanda worked for the Sinclairs, and this was just part of her job.
Yolanda bent down to change her shoes by the entryway, staying silent.
Renee had super sensitive skin. She’d seen tons of dermatologists, but none of them helped. She ended up allergic to most skincare products.
Back when Yolanda was head over heels for Charles, she’d cared about every Sinclair. She’d dug into skincare research and made those masks just for Renee. They worked, so Renee kept coming back whenever she ran out.
Only then did Renee ever soften her tone. Any other time, her words were sharp, full of jabs.
Yolanda wasn’t made of steel; those words definitely stung. But back then, just one tiny bit of kindness from Charles, and she’d brush it all off, forgive and forget.
Now, she’d seen it clearly–her place in the Sinclair household was no better than a servant’s. She headed for the stairs, muttering, “I forgot how to make it.”
Renee, who had been sitting with an air of arrogance, shot to her feet. “What are you talking about? You made that recipe up yourself. How could you forget? You just don’t want to, do you?”
Yolanda kept going up the stairs, pretending not to hear.
Renee swiped the cups off the coffee table, fuming. ‘If it weren’t for these damn face masks, I’d have already pushed Charles to divorce this bitch by now, she thought. ‘He never even liked her anyway.’
