The Fake Group Darling Picked a Fight with the Real Boss Chapter 04

The Fake Group Darling Picked a Fight with the Real Boss Chapter 04

The call was from Zoya, asking what to do with a package of his that had been delivered to her

place.

The second Rupert picked up, Sylvie leaned into his phone and shouted, “Zoya, checking up on

him? Don’t worry, Rupert’s with us tonight!”

Silence hung on the line for a few seconds before the call went dead.

Rupert turned pale.

Sylvie laughed. “It was just a joke. Who knew Zoya was so touchy?”

My smile was gone. “You knew they broke up?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “But honestly, Zoya’s just too sensitive. Nothing is going on with me and Rupert. Just friends.”

“You knew it made her uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t do anything wrong. That’s her problem.”

“You knew it bothered her, and you still grabbed her boyfriend’s phone to reply to her for

him?”

Sylvie froze for a second, then she immediately countered, “Harleigh, don’t tell me you’re this petty, too?”

Manuel didn’t even look up. He put a peeled shrimp on my plate and nudged his car keys

toward my hand.

He wasn’t trying to bail me out-he was waiting for me to handle it myself.

Fine then. That settled it.

She wasn’t oblivious.

She was doing it on purpose.

She genuinely enjoyed watching someone else’s boyfriend fight with his girlfriend over her.

As the mood turned awkward, Sylvie took the initiative to lighten the atmosphere, suggesting a game they often played called the “Chemistry Test.”

She smiled at me. “Harleigh, after all, you’ve been away for three years. It’s a great time to test who actually knows them better after this past year. Loser grants the winner one request. How

about it?”

I didn’t answer. I just looked at Manuel beside me.

Manuel looked indifferent. He swapped my iced wine for water, showing zero intention of

rescuing me.

A flicker of smugness flashed across Sylvie’s eyes.

Across the table, Colson suddenly seemed to recall something horrifying.

His glass hit the edge of the table with a sharp clack, and he sat bolt upright. “We’re over.”

Sylvie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Colson looked at her with an expression almost bordering on pity.

“You really don’t know how she became our leader back in the day, do you?”

The so-called Chemistry Test had simple rules.

Take turns drawing questions. Answer correctly, and you get the right to ask the next question. Answer wrong, and you take a shot.

Sylvie struck first, picking questions she was sure she could win.

“Does Manuel take sugar in his coffee now?”

“What car did Trevor just switch to?”

“What does Colson hate eating?”

I deliberately threw two answers.

Sylvie visibly gloated, then said to me with mock sincerity, “Harleigh, people change. You can’t keep seeing them the way you did when you were kids.”

She thought she had won.

In the next round, a group question was drawn. “When everyone goes out, who pays?”

Sylvie jumped in, grinning wide. “We never keep track like that! We’re all friends-whoever’s got it covers it. Only couples keep score.”

I nodded. “That’s nice. Trevor, pull up our bookkeeping app and cast it onto the TV.”

Trevor blinked, then did it.

The receipts scrolled page by page, and the problem showed itself.

Over the past year, Sylvie had tagged along for twenty-three meals, three short trips, four concerts, and borrowed a car twice-filling the tank both times.

For every single expense covered by someone else, her line was always, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

She hadn’t transferred a single cent.