While at work, I accidentally sent a photo of a car I meant for the auto shop to our work group chat instead. A new intern sharply questioned me: “Joanna, why are you sending photos of my car? Are you eyeing my sports car or something?” I was confused and asked if she’d made a mistake—this was my car. She immediately sent a series of photos and videos of herself driving the supercar, proving it was hers. Then she added sarcastically: “Some broke people really have no shame. This sports car was custom-made for me by my husband. There’s only one like it in the entire world. Did you think stealing a photo of my car would make you Mrs. Reid?” I frowned and looked over at my husband beside me, asking: “Do you have a second wife I don’t know about?” Because I was too busy at work, I accidentally sent the car photo meant for the auto shop to the intern group chat instead. Before I could unsend it, several interns had already seen it, and the chat immediately exploded: “Holy shit! A starlight-roof supercar—the customization alone must cost hundreds of thousands! Joanna’s actually loaded!” “Never would’ve guessed Joanna’s a trust fund kid!” “What do Joanna’s parents do? That supercar must be at least five million dollars, right?” The chat quickly filled with dozens of messages, all asking about my family background. Several male interns even privately messaged me asking to take me to dinner. Feeling a bit helpless, I casually explained: “I’m not a trust fund kid. It’s just a birthday gift from my husband. Everyone should focus on work instead…” Before I could finish, intern Quinn Rivera suddenly jumped in: “Joanna, why are you sending photos of my car?” “And claiming it’s a birthday gift from your husband—are you trying to brag that your husband’s a billionaire?” “I shouldn’t have driven my car to the hospital. Having someone like you steal photos to show off is just my bad luck!” The barrage of accusations left me instantly bewildered. I asked in confusion: “Quinn, I think you’ve misunderstood. Maybe our cars look similar?” She went silent for a few seconds, then started frantically posting various photos of herself with the supercar in the group chat, including videos of her driving from the driver’s seat. Her tone became even more mocking: “My starlight-roof supercar is custom-made, one of a kind in the entire world. How dare you, some broke doctor, claim it looks like yours?” “You steal one photo and dare to say it’s yours—you might as well take a photo in front of the White House and claim that’s your house too!” This blatant ridicule immediately reversed the other interns’ attitudes. They all turned on me: “Joanna, that’s not how you show off… This is so embarrassing.” “If you don’t have a car, just say so. Nobody’s judging. No need to do something this pathetic and get called out by Quinn.” “Never thought there’d be attention-seekers like this at the hospital. And she’s supposed to be training us? Hope she doesn’t turn us all into liars too, hahaha.” Another stream of passive-aggressive comments followed. Some even tagged me directly, demanding I apologize to Quinn. I frowned and tagged Quinn directly: “What’s going on? Why were you in my car? And when were those videos taken?” I participated in designing the starlight roof in my car—it was unique. So the moment Quinn posted those photos and videos, I knew that was my car. That’s why I confronted her directly. Quinn: [Can you have some shame? Even now you’re still claiming it’s your car. Do I really need to drive it right up to your face before you’ll give up?] “If it’s really your car, then tell me what color the interior is right now.” “Gray.” I answered confidently. I’d just had the auto shop change the color a few days ago. But the next second, Quinn sent a photo—a selfie of her sitting inside the car, with the interior now changed to pink. She immediately laughed mockingly: “Of course trashy people are trashy—you slipped up with one sentence! When you stole that photo of my car, the interior was gray, but I changed it to pink yesterday!” “What’s wrong? Can’t find updated stolen photos fast enough?” Seeing this, everyone in the group became even more convinced the car was Quinn’s, and they all piled on to attack me. “Joanna looks so aloof, but she’s actually this vain! Having someone like her as our supervisor is really bad luck!” “Exactly. She sees someone driving a luxury car, steals photos to lie about it, and now gets exposed by Quinn. How embarrassing!” “She opens her mouth and lies—maybe her impressive academic credentials are lies too. Aren’t there lots of female doctors who sleep with old professors just to publish papers?” The comments got more and more exaggerated, even making up scandals about me. I was furious and about to fight back when a colleague notified me about an emergency surgery I needed to perform immediately. Hearing this, I had no time to deal with these interns in the chat. I rushed off to do the surgery.
By the time I came out of the operating room, it was afternoon. As soon as I walked out of the main hall, I saw a delivery guy carrying an enormous bouquet of yellow roses coming in from outside, calling out loudly: “Excuse me, is there a Mrs. Reid here? These are flowers ordered for you by Mr. Reid!” Seeing this, I couldn’t help but smile. This morning when leaving the house, I’d rushed and had a little spat with Grayson Reid. We’d had a cold war all day without talking, but now he was sending yellow roses—clearly an apology. I suppressed my smile and stepped forward: “Give me the flowers. I’m Mrs.—” “Don’t touch my flowers!” Before my hand could take the bouquet, Quinn suddenly shrieked and ran over from the opposite direction, shoving me aside and glaring at me with utter contempt: “Joanna, can you have any shame? This morning you tried to claim my car, this afternoon you’re trying to steal my flowers—do you have no sense of dignity at all?” She shoved me and I stumbled. My initial willingness to let it go turned to complete anger. I frowned at her: “Is something wrong with your brain? These are my flowers!” “Hahahaha…” Quinn’s entourage—several other interns from the chat—all pointed at me and laughed: “How much do you love drama? A bouquet of roses this big—only Quinn’s wealthy young master husband could afford it. Who do you think would send flowers to a country bumpkin like you?” “Exactly! Never seen someone like this—completely shameless over a bouquet of flowers! The way she shamelessly pushed herself forward was so embarrassing to watch!” “Only someone like Quinn, a wealthy young madam with such grace, wouldn’t stoop to your level. Otherwise I’d really call the police!” Meanwhile, Quinn put on a shy expression: “Oh, you guys are terrible! I told you to keep my identity secret, and here you are blabbing about it!” “My darling husband is a wealthy family heir—very prestigious. So many people try to curry favor with him. I don’t want to be bothered by these people every day.” The others immediately comforted and praised her, expressing understanding and showing various envious expressions. I was dumbfounded by their performance—utterly speechless: “Your darling husband is so amazing but makes you drive someone else’s car and steal someone else’s flowers?” “And ‘wealthy young madam’—what kind of wealthy young madam does an internship? Just go home and lie around instead!” “What do you know? I believe in being self-reliant!” Quinn seemed to have a nerve struck. Her face flushed as she stepped forward: “If I told you my husband’s name, it would scare you to death. He’s the heir to the Reid Corporation!” I paused before processing who she meant, then asked with a frown: “You’re talking about Grayson?” “How dare you! How dare you speak my husband’s name so casually?” Quinn glared at me arrogantly, incredibly haughty. I was beyond speechless: “Did Grayson marry you in your dreams?” “How dare you insult me?” Quinn’s expression changed. She opened her mouth angrily: “My husband won’t let you get away with—” I raised my hand, cutting off her words: “I don’t know if your husband will let me get away with anything, but I’ll tell you this—you’re impersonating Mrs. Reid and swindling people. Grayson definitely won’t let you get away with it!” Someone impersonating a wealthy lady and landing on me—today really opened my eyes. Quinn’s face turned red: “What gives you the right to say I’m swindling people? I am Grayson’s wife!” “Proof?” I stared at her unflinchingly: “Empty words mean nothing. Why should I believe you’re Mrs. Reid?” “I’ll call my husband right now and have him come over immediately!” She pulled out her phone and made a call, her voice sweet and cloying: “Hello, honey, come to the hospital quick. Some bitch doesn’t believe your identity and keeps bullying me, boo hoo…” “Who dares bully Grayson’s woman? I’ll be right there!” The voice on the other end of the call—Grayson—immediately responded, saying he’d come over. Hearing this, Quinn immediately became confident, looking smugly at everyone: “Nobody leave. When my husband gets here, he won’t let this bitch off!” Watching Quinn so confident and certain, I felt bewildered for a moment. If her husband really was Grayson, then who was my husband? So I also took the opportunity to send Grayson a message on SnapChat, asking him to pick me up from the hospital. Grayson quickly replied “OK,” which put my mind at ease. I also started looking forward to this upcoming drama of “the real and fake Grayson”!
While waiting for Grayson to arrive, Quinn became increasingly smug. Holding that bouquet of yellow roses, she came up to me and said contemptuously: “Joanna, I understand you’re vain because you come from poverty, but I can’t just let you slandering me slide.” “You need to kneel and apologize to me, and promise never to ride my coattails again. Otherwise, I’ll definitely have my husband hold you accountable!” That pissed me off. Before I could respond, the other interns immediately chimed in: “Quinn, you’re so kind. She slandered you like that and you’re only asking her to kneel and apologize!” “Joanna, the Reid Corporation heir isn’t that easy to talk to. I think you should obediently kneel now before Mr. Reid gets here and refuses to let you off!” “Exactly! I heard Mr. Reid has avoided public appearances for years. Today he’s coming to the hospital to confront you for Quinn’s sake—don’t you realize how serious this is?” Grayson indeed disliked public appearances, but that was due to his personality. I never expected this would now give these people ammunition to attack me. How ridiculous. Thinking this, I couldn’t help but sneer: “I’d also like to see who won’t let who off!” Quinn was out there impersonating my identity and swindling people, even able to freely drive my car and change the interior colors. I needed to get to the bottom of this—I couldn’t let her keep ruining my reputation! Quinn snorted coldly: “Stubborn till the end! Just wait till you see how powerful my husband is!” As soon as she finished speaking, a commotion came from the hospital entrance. The hospital director and other leaders personally went to greet someone: “Oh my, Mr. Reid! If you were coming to the hospital, you should have told us in advance so I could personally pick you up! What a wonderful surprise!” “Mr. Reid, that thirty million dollars in medical equipment you invested in our hospital last time really solved a huge problem for us. The entire hospital is incredibly grateful to you!” I looked up and saw it was indeed Grayson. He strode toward us, his expression calm. Madison was the first to greet him with a fawning smile: “Mr. Reid, you really do dote on your wife. The moment you heard Mrs. Reid was wronged, you came right away.” “Look, Mrs. Reid has been waiting for you!” She pointed toward Quinn. Grayson glanced at Quinn and said in a low voice: “Honey, come here.” As soon as he said this, everyone present became excited, all looking enviously at Quinn.
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