Hello, people!
Happy Wednesday!

Usual housekeeping:
- I still don't own any of it.
- Team Momo wouldn't exist without Midnight Cougar and Alice's White Rabbit with their red pens, or without AGoodWitch, Maplestyle, Mel, and Eternally Addicted who pre-read and tell me if I'm off my rocker or not.
- thank you for all the reviews and alerts! I treasure each of them.

The nominations for the Golden Onion Awards are still underway and will be open until July 31. All the pertinent info and the link to the nomination and awards website is in their FB group, The Golden Onion Awards (type in the search bar to find it). Don't forget to go and show your favorites some love with the nominations :)

Time to see just who has the gall to gatecrash Bella's private graduation party (and yes, your predictions were right on the money!)

Let's hear from LawyerWard today.

Chapter 35 – EPOV

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Rose asked in a hiss.

With Rose and Emmett, I'd been standing in line for food for a few minutes, when my father and uncle filed past us, hurrying toward the main dining area at the front of the establishment.

"Crap, of all people, Rebitch had to show up tonight?"

My brother confirmed my suspicions. Rebecca had no place here tonight. When Alistair told me about the dinner in Bella's honor, he also asked me to review the guest list. Our latest hire wasn't on it, just as the rest of the staff at large. Tonight was family and friends only; it just so happened that a good chunk of Bella's friends and family worked with her.

"Uninvited, I might add," Rose said. She snapped her fingers in Alistair's direction. "Al! 911. Come with me. Now."

Alistair, whose horrified expression was on par with Rose's, nodded and followed her.

"Bro, are you seriously still standing here?"

"There's a crowd of people over there already. Two founding partners and our CEO. Isn't that enough firepower?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "I swear, and you're supposed to be the smart one. Get to Bella, like yesterday. What if Rebitch elbows her way inside?"

I eyed him suspiciously. I wouldn't put it past Emmett to get me out of the way to cut down the competition for food. But he knew me well, too.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm not trying to cut ahead in line. I'm telling ya—go protect your girlfriend."

I started to protest, but to no avail.

"Yes, yes. She can fight her own battles. But if the old fools over there decide to go for the path of least resistance and let Rebecca in, who do you think she'll make it her mission to annoy first?"

He got me there.

"Go. This is more important than food," he said, pushing me away.

Oh, the irony. With a shake of my head, I raced toward the commotion because, by now, decibels around Rebecca had started ticking upward.

Imagine that. People saw her and wanted to scream.

I ran into Bella on the way. "I was coming back to you, love."

"I saw you, but I got curious, so I'm going eavesdropping," she whispered.

"You little rascal. Are you looking for trouble?"

She shrugged. "She started it," she hedged, pointing to Rebecca.

Four harried people were currently trying to reason with her—Rose, Alistair, Jamie, and my dad.

"Two more won't hurt. And Em will seethe with envy that we're hearing this shit firsthand. Let's go," I conceded.

We walked closer to the mêlée, but stayed far back enough that we could hear the conversation, yet not look as though we were mounting a full-court press.

Bella winked at me and put a finger to her lips, tilting her head toward my dad and uncle's progressively thunderous faces.

"I heard about it in the office, and I concluded it had to be a corporate event," Rebecca wheedled.

"What the fuck is she wearing?" Bella asked under her breath. "That thing looks like my grandma's crocheted throw. It's hideous. I hope she didn't wear that to the office.

"Rebecca, did you receive an invitation?" my father asked, his irritation evident in his sharp delivery. Every consonant fell out of his mouth like a guillotine.

"No, but … everyone is here."

Jamie scoffed. "Do you see my entire department, other than me? Do you see accounting? IT? Reception and support staff? Do you see the rest of Carlisle's and Emmett's teams?" Jamie pointed at our small party, now congregated around the buffet tables.

"Well, no, but most of the partners are here, so I figured—"

"You figured what, Rebecca? That you'd crash a private party—why exactly?" Jamie was losing his patience fast—and it was thin and fleeting to begin with.

Rose gently touched Jamie's shoulder, and with a curt nod to Alistair, took over the potentially explosive situation. "Al, if I may?"

"Have at it, my girl. You'll be much more eloquent than any of us grumpy pants." Alistair's comeback earned him a chuckle from my father and uncle, who stood there, shaking their heads at Rebecca's chutzpah with disgusted expressions on their faces.

Rosalie stood to her full height, which made her tower over Rebecca and her unfortunate fashion choices. "I'll need assistance from the maître d'. Can anyone fetch him for me?"

Alistair turned his head to the dining room, scanning the crowd. "There's Seth over there." The guy heard Alistair's call and, after seating a couple, came over to us.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?"

Alistair pointed toward Rose. "We are in a pickle, my friend. But Rosalie here will tell you all about it."

"Sure. Anything you need."

"Seth, do you have the invite list and booking info for our dinner tonight?"

At Rose's question, Seth's eyes narrowed, then understanding dawned when his gaze landed on the intruder. "I have it right here. Give me one second." He swiped through a couple of screens on his tablet, then handed it over to Rose.

Rose glanced at it, and with a scheming glint in her eyes showed it to Rebecca. "Look at the screen, Rebecca. What do you see?"

"A reservation. It's in Alistair's name."

"And do you see your name on the invite list? It's right there. Same screen." Rosalie prodded her with a saccharine sweet voice that would spike anyone's blood sugar.

"Well, no, but … It's in Alistair's name, so it has to be corporate, for the office. I don't care what the invite list says—"

"But you should. Who does that say this dinner's being billed to? Which account?"

Rebecca deflated. Finally. "It says personal. But I don't understand. Why am I not included?"

Bella, who stood beside me with an unreadable expression on her face, shook her head. "She's gotta be full-on delusional. Tell me again why they thought hiring her was a good idea?"

I chuckled wryly. "I got nothing, love. Inexplicable."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" My father's voice boomed like thunder, even among the din of the busy dining room. "It's Bella's graduation party. It's a fucking private party, and you're not invited. This is your last chance to leave the premises before I ask the establishment to escort you out."

Rebecca's face turned a deeper shade of lobster, and with a haughty huff, she disappeared, but only after throwing a last gauntlet over her shoulder. "You can't get rid of me this easily."

"Watch us," Jamie spat. "Rosalie?"

"Yes, Jamie?"

"We're going to the mattresses with this one."

Bella turned toward me, her eyebrows rising so high they'd disappeared into her hairline. "Oh, shit! This means war."

"No, love. This means it's all hands on deck to figure out how to fire her without being sued. Two words: wrongful termination."

"Well, we're gonna need more ammunition than just gatecrashing a private party."

Of course it had to be Rebitch!
And now it seems that she's been up to no good - which nobody doubted, but ... well, now they're gonna do something about it.
We'll see what the battle plan is like on Saturday.

Have a good rest of the week!