Stand Me Up? I'll Marry His Billionaire Uncle novel Chapter 127

Sunny wondered for the umpteenth time if she'd completely lost her mind.

She stood up, phone clutched so tightly her knuckles whitened. Someone called out from across the open workspace, "Sunny, want a coffee? I grabbed an extra."

She managed a polite smile. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

She was already riled up—no need for caffeine to make it worse. She needed to vent, and fast.

Meanwhile, Tristan was already regretting the message he'd just sent.

He figured it might all be a misunderstanding, but his first instinct when he saw the news had been to confront Sunny. It hadn't even crossed his mind that, at this point, he had no right to question her about anything.

Sunny crouched on a stairwell landing, tapping furiously at her phone, her fingers flying over the screen.

[Tristan, let me give you some advice: stop harassing me for no reason. Whether you think I'm someone's mistress or the fifth wheel, even if I hired a dozen male escorts tonight, it's none of your business, got it?]

[We broke up. Who I'm with is my own damn business. Don't you have a company to run, or a girlfriend of your own to worry about? Why are you so obsessed with what I'm doing?]

[Or are you regretting it now, Tristan? If you are, too bad. Even if you paid me, I wouldn't take you back!]

After firing off a final "Get lost," Sunny blocked the number—wherever Tristan had gotten it from.

Tristan's assistant stared at the tirade of texts, utterly speechless. Who knew what had possessed the boss to borrow his phone just to send a message? Now what was he supposed to do—show Tristan the reply or keep it to himself? Pure panic.

—

Once she'd hit send, Sunny put the whole thing out of her mind.

Instead, it was Quentin Chase who first noticed the confusion online. He immediately logged into a burner account and started clarifying: the woman in question was Ms. Chloe.

By lunchtime, Sunny overheard her colleagues gossiping at the break room table.

—

"Mr. Lawson, Miss Carrington replied to your message. But, uh, I thought it was junk and deleted it," the assistant stammered, grasping for the least disastrous excuse.

Tristan's brow darkened. "How could you delete it?"

The assistant shrank under his glare, afraid to say another word.

But then Tristan thought better of it. Odds were, whatever Sunny had written was just a string of insults anyway.

"Fine. I get it. You can go."

When he finally saw the latest round of clarifications online—showing Chloe as the true subject of the scandal—Tristan's face turned thunderous.