Chapter 3 He Only Loves Sylvia

Lacey realized the VIP client was none other than Sylvia.

This revelation made everything clear.

To have her wait, only to be ignored...

Sylvia was clearly asserting her dominance.

Clenching her hands, Lacey was shocked to encounter Sylvia under these circumstances.

"Hello, you must be Lacey Elliott, right?" Sylvia greeted her with a friendly smile.

Her voice was friendly and soft, as though she were greeting a long-lost friend.

Lacey masked the surprise in her eyes and quelled the irritation of being manipulated. She replied composedly, "Yes, Miss Barnes."

Looking confused, Bella glanced between the two and asked, "So do you two know each other?"

Sylvia's smile widened as she responded, "Miss Elliott and I have some history together. Since I still need my hair done, I'll ask her for her assistance. Could everyone else please step out? Thank you!"

Bella complied, not wanting to challenge Sylvia. The others in the room also got up, ready to leave.

Sylvia's tone was sweet and gentle. "I'm really sorry, Miss Barnes. I have an important banquet tonight, so I made a last-minute decision to get our top stylist to do my hair. I'm sorry you had to wait."

Before the room was fully cleared, everyone heard Sylvia's heartfelt apology to Lacey. They couldn't help but be impressed by her humility, despite her celebrity status.

Lacey couldn't resist rolling her eyes at Sylvia's performance.

Soon, they were the only two left in the room, and Sylvia's smile disappeared in an instant.

She gave Lacey a cold look, walked over to the makeup table, sat down, and commanded coldly, "Why are you just standing there? Aren't you going to start curling my hair?"

Lacey gave Sylvia a sharp glance, picked up the curling iron, and began working on her hair.

"For the past three years, Callan has been longing for me," Sylvia said smugly, looking at Lacey in the mirror, her eyes filled with bragging and provocation.

Lacey momentarily stopped with the curling iron in hand.

"You're merely a substitute, just a caretaker for Callan during his illness," Sylvia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lacey inhaled deeply and responded in a calm tone, "Is that so? And what about you? You chose to leave Callan during his toughest times. What does that say about you?"

Her words hit the nail on the head, and Sylvia visibly tensed up. The calm in her eyes quickly gave way to a fiery rage.

But then, just as quickly, her anger turned into a smirk. "I'll show you who Callan truly values more."

Lacey frowned, sensing trouble was coming at her. In a sudden move, Sylvia leaned her forehead towards the hot curling iron in Lacey's hand.

"Ah!" Sylvia screamed. She shot up from her chair and shoved Lacey back.

The curling iron slipped from Lacey's hand, searing the inside of her wrist.

She gasped, shutting her eyes against the sharp pain that surged through her wrist.

As she was about to check the burn, a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. "What's happening here?"

Lacey looked up to see the person who spoke.

There stood Callan, dressed in a sleek black suit, observing the scene with a cool demeanor.

Surprise flickered in Callan's eyes upon seeing Lacey.

He hadn't anticipated finding her here at Owen Group's entertainment company, especially not as one of its stylists.

How come he had no idea when she started working here?

"Callan, look at this. It hurts so much..."

The moment Sylvia saw Callan, she threw herself into his arms, her eyes brimming with tears. She appeared utterly fragile and pitiful with her tear-streaked face.

Callan hesitated for a moment and then simply steadied her without fully embracing her.

"Miss Elliott, I only switched stylists. I never doubted your skills. Why would you retaliate against me?" Sylvia accused Lacey, cradling the burn on her forehead. Her face wore a look of deep hurt.

It was a classic scenario of the offender claiming to be the victim.

Lacey struggled to contain her anger. "I didn't harm you."

"You say you didn't, but how do you explain this burn on my forehead? You're a stylist with years of experience. How could you be so careless as to make such a mistake?"

Sylvia's sobs grew more heart-wrenching.

Tears choking her voice, she continued, "Miss Elliott, why are you so cruel?"

Onlookers at the door, drawn by the noise, now pointed at Lacey with disdain and discussed among themselves.

Enduring the pain in her wrist, Lacey turned to look at Callan.

Callan knitted his brows, noticing the negative comments about Lacey. He was about to intervene, but Sylvia cut him off.

"Callan, it's really painful. It hurts so much..."

His attention was drawn to the reddened spot on Sylvia's forehead.

Sylvia, pampered from a young age, couldn't bear even this minor injury.

With a look of worry, Callan asked, "Is it that bad?"

"It's killing me!" Sylvia replied, tears rolling down like pearls.

Lacey felt a tightness in her chest as she watched the scene.

Clearly, Callan only cared about Sylvia.

A bitter smile crossed Lacey's face. She yearned to leave this place, not wanting to see any more of Callan and Sylvia's closeness.

But she felt breathless the moment she took a step.

She had skipped both breakfast and lunch. Now, she felt dizzy, her steps unsteady. She almost tripped and fell.

Callan noticed her wavering balance. He released Sylvia and began to move towards Lacey.

"Ah, it hurts so much, Callan..."

Realizing she was losing Callan's attention, Sylvia intensified her act of distress and clung to Callan.

Callan's expression turned into a frown, but he had no choice but to help Sylvia. He escorted her out.

Rubbing her temples, Lacey watched as Callan walked away. She couldn't stop herself and called out, "Callan..."

"I need to take Sylvia to the hospital first," Callan said, not turning back to Lacey. He continued to help Sylvia as they left.

Lacey stood there, watching Callan and Sylvia until they were out of sight. Only then did she release her wrist, looking down at the bright red burn on it.

She was in pain too.