Rebecca stormed into the grand Tyler mansion with the rage of a thunderstorm. The automatic doors had barely opened before she swept inside, heels clicking furiously against the marble floor. 

The line of maids stationed at the entrance stiffened immediately, bowing their heads as one, their gazes dropping to the ground. They knew better than to look directly at her face when she returned home with that expression—jaw clenched, eyes flashing, breath coming out in sharp huffs.

Without slowing down, Rebecca ripped the designer bag off her shoulder and flung it at the nearest maid. The young girl fumbled but caught it clumsily, trembling as if the bag weighed a...