Blake slammed the vase onto the floor.
The Song Dynasty plum vase—worth one hundred twenty million dollars—was now nothing but dust and shards.
I froze.
Even Phoebe looked stunned for a second before shooting him an annoyed glare.
“Blake, stop messing around! Even if it’s just a replica, that thing was worth a decent amount!”
Blake pouted, his eyes red with emotion. “Miss Wright, it’s obvious Gabriel is never going to pay you back. I smashed a fake on your behalf, to help you vent! And now you’re blaming me?”
Right in front of me, Phoebe’s expression softened. She gently comforted him, “I’m not blaming you. I just wanted him to cough up the five hundred thousand, so I could put a down payment on a small apartment for you.”
“My best employee deserves only the best.”
“Hopefully, someone around here will finally understand the gap between us and obediently sign those agreements. After all, the line of men who want to marry into my family could wrap around the entire city.”
She shot me a look full of smug implication.
I rolled my eyes like I was looking at a pair of idiots. “Phoebe, do yourself a favor and find out who actually spent that five hundred thousand before you start accusing people. Otherwise, yeah—you’re right, people trying to drain your bank account really do stretch around New York.”
Blake visibly flinched, and tears started streaming down his face, this time with less performance and more panic.
Phoebe rushed to console him, flustered.
I’d had enough of their public display of twisted affection. My voice cut in, as I spat coldly, “Since you care so much about your employees, Miss Wright, I assume you’ll be the one compensating for that one hundred twenty million vase?”
She raised her foot and aimed to stomp the broken pieces even further.
“A fake like that? You expect me to pay for it? What, feeling heartbroken now? Didn’t you claim it was authentic? Didn’t you say you were rich? Then go buy another one!”
Blake wiped his tears instantly and puffed up like a rooster, looking triumphant.
But before her foot landed, the gold-medal lawyer dropped to her knees with a thud, arms out to block her.
“Miss Wright—if I’m not mistaken... that vase was real.”
Her words shut both Phoebe and Blake up instantly.
I blinked. Well, well. So the “gold-medal” lawyer actually had some expertise beyond legal jargon.