Chapter 2: My Game Won Gold.

The trophy sat on my desk, catching the morning sunlight that filtered through my cheap blinds. It was a sleek, geometric shard of crystal, etched with the words International Indie Dev Showcase - Gold Medal.

It was heavy. It was prestigious. It was the culmination of two years of sleepless nights, caffeine overdoses, and coding marathons.

But as I stared at it, nursing a lukewarm cup of instant coffee, it felt hollow.

My apartment was silent. not the peaceful kind of silence, but the lonely kind. It was a one-bedroom walk-up in the city's tech district—practical, messy with cables and specialized keyboards, and decidedly un-glamorous. It was a far cry from the penthouse suite Sienna lived in, paid for by Dad "until her brand took off."

My phone buzzed on the coaster. A video call request.

LILY CHEN 

I swiped answer, and Lily’s face filled the screen. She was wearing her noise-canceling headphones around her neck, her purple-dyed hair a chaotic halo.

"Tell me you're hungover," Lily shouted, grinning. "Tell me you were out until 4 AM celebrating being the absolute queen of game design!"

I forced a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I was debugging until 2 AM. Does that count?"

Lily’s smile faltered. She leaned closer to the camera, her dark eyes narrowing. "Aria. You won the Gold. That’s huge. TechCrunch even mentioned it this morning. Please tell me you at least called your family? Did they send flowers? Champagne?"

I looked away, focusing on a dead pixel on my second monitor. "Sienna got engaged last night."

There was a pause. A long, heavy silence where I could practically hear Lily processing the information.

"Oh," Lily said, her voice dropping. "Oh, hell no. Let me guess. The Golden Child’s ring is blinding, her fiancé is rich, and your award is currently serving as a paperweight?"

"It's a really nice paperweight," I joked weakly.

"They didn't say anything?" Lily pressed, the protective anger rising in her voice. "Not even a text? Aria, you beat out studios with ten times your budget!"

"Mom called," I admitted.

"See! I knew Elena had a heart somewhere under that designer blazer."

"She called to tell me I have to come to dinner tonight," I corrected, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. "To celebrate Sienna. And to make sure I don't wear 'those awful hoodies' to the engagement party next week."

Lily groaned, throwing her head back. "Don't go. Seriously. Come over here. We’ll order pizza, play Elden Ring, and I will personally craft a tweet about how much better you are than everyone else."

"I have to go," I whispered. "It's family."

"It's a trap," Lily countered. "Every time you go to that mansion, you come back looking like you’ve gone twelve rounds with a raid boss solo. Don't let her overshadow you, Ari. You’re a star. You just need them to see it."

"I know," I lied. "I'll be fine. It's just dinner."

"Famous last words," Lily muttered. "Just... text me if you need an escape extraction. I'll fake a server emergency."

The drive to the Stone estate was a transition between worlds. I left the vibrant, gritty energy of the city and entered the manicured silence of the suburbs. My reliable, five-year-old sedan looked like a stain on the pristine driveway, parked next to my father’s Bentley and Sienna’s brand-new convertible—a "congratulations" gift for the engagement, no doubt.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I’d tried. I really had. I wore a simple navy dress that I thought looked professional, and I’d actually brushed my hair.

You are a Lead Game Designer, I told myself. You manage a team of twenty people. You are not a child.

But as I walked up the marble steps to the front door, I felt twenty years of confidence strip away. I wasn't Aria the professional. I was just the other twin.

The housekeeper, Maria, opened the door. Her eyes softened when she saw me. "Miss Aria. You look tired."

"Hi, Maria. Long week," I managed.

"They're in the drawing room," she whispered, a warning tone in her voice. "Mr. Marcus sent flowers. Everywhere."

She wasn't exaggerating. The house smelled like a funeral home. White roses—Sienna's favorite—covered every surface.

I walked into the drawing room. My mother, Elena Stone, was sitting on the velvet settee, holding a glass of Chardonnay. My father, Richard, was by the window, scrolling through his phone.

And Sienna was center stage, holding her hand up to the light.

"Oh, Aria, you're here," my mother said, her gaze flicking over me like a scanner looking for defects. "Did you do something different with your hair? It looks... flat."

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I said, ignoring the jab. "Hi, Sienna."

"Look!" Sienna squealed, rushing over to shove her hand in my face. The diamond was aggressive. It sparkled with a violence that made me blink. "Three carats. Flawless. Marcus said nothing less would do for a Stone."

"It's beautiful," I said, and I meant it. It was a beautiful object. But it felt cold.

"It had to be custom designed," my mother added, taking a sip of wine. "Marcus has such refined taste. Unlike some of the men you’ve dated, Aria."

I hadn't dated anyone in two years because I was building my career, but I didn't point that out.

"So," I started, trying to inject some of my own life into the vacuum. "I actually had some news too. The International Indie Showcase was yesterday, and—"

"Sienna, darling," my father interrupted, finally looking up from his phone. "Did Marcus confirm the venue? The Plaza is fully booked, I heard."

"He pulled strings, Daddy," Sienna beamed, spinning around so her skirt flared. "We got the Grand Ballroom. And we're flying in that chef from Paris. You know, the one who did the gala last year?"

My sentence died in the air, unfinished and unheard.

"That's wonderful," my mother purred. "A wedding of the century. We need to start looking at guest lists immediately. We can't have just anyone there."

She looked at me then. "Aria, sit up straight. And really, that outfit—couldn't you have worn something nicer? You look like you're going to a library."

"I came straight from work," I said, my voice tight.

"Work," my father scoffed lightly. "Still playing with those computers?"

"I'm a Lead Designer, Dad. We just won a Gold Medal."

"That's nice, dear," my mother said, waving her hand dismissively as if shooing a fly. "Sienna, tell us about the flowers."

We moved to the dining room, but the dynamic didn't change. The soup was cold gazpacho, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. For forty-five minutes, the conversation revolved exclusively around Sienna. Her dress. Her ring. Her honeymoon. Marcus’s brilliance.

I shrank. With every bite, I felt myself becoming smaller, less significant. I was a ghost at my own family dinner.

"Aria," Sienna chirped, breaking my trance. "You'll be my maid of honor, won't you?"

It wasn't a question.

"I... of course," I said. What else could I say?

"Good," my mother nodded, slicing her steak with surgical precision. "It's your duty as her sister. And it will be good for you to be seen in those circles. Maybe you'll find someone suitable. Someone like Marcus."

"I don't need to find someone," I muttered, stabbing a potato.

"Don't be difficult, Aria," my father warned. "Your mother is trying to help you. You're twenty-six. You're not getting any younger, and this... hobby of yours isn't exactly building a future."

A hobby.

My game had grossed three million dollars in early access sales. I had benefits, stock options, and a career path. But to them, I was just playing games in a basement.

"May I be excused?" I asked abruptly, standing up.

My mother sighed, the sound of long-suffering disappointment. "Go ahead. We were just getting to the cake."

I walked up the grand staircase, my heels clicking on the marble. I didn't go to the bathroom. I went to the East Wing, to the bedrooms we used to share.

Sienna's door was open. Her room was a shrine to her perfection. Photos of her modeling shoots, trophies from horseback riding (which she hated but did for the aesthetic), and mood boards for her brand. It was lush, pink, and full of life.

Across the hall was my room.

It was beige.

Most of my things were gone, moved to my apartment. The walls were bare. The bed was made with generic guest linens. It looked like no one lived there. It looked like no one had ever lived there.

I walked to the closet, opening the door out of habit. In the back, tucked under a loose floorboard I’d discovered when I was ten, was a small, dusty box.

My time capsule.

I sat on the floor, ignoring the dust on my navy dress, and opened it. Inside were floppy disks (my first attempts at coding), a drawing of a dragon, and a diary with a broken lock.

I opened the diary to a random page. I was twelve.

July 14th.

Mom bought Sienna the new camera she wanted. I asked for a coding book. Dad said girls don't code. I wish Mom would look at me the way she looks at Sienna. Just once. I wish I was shiny like her.

A lump formed in my throat, hot and painful. Fourteen years later, and I was still writing the same entry in my head.

I wish I was shiny like her.

I traced the messy handwriting. I had built a life. I had built worlds that thousands of people got lost in. I was respected in my field.

Why wasn't that enough?

Why did I still crave the approval of people who didn't even know who I was?

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wasn't that twelve-year-old girl anymore. I wouldn't cry over them. Not tonight.

I shoved the diary back into the box and slammed the lid shut.

"No," I whispered to the empty, beige room. "I don't need them to see me. I see me."

I checked my makeup in the mirror, fixed my posture, and walked back to the landing.

Voices drifted up from the dining room. They thought I was out of earshot.

"I'm so proud of you, Sienna," my mother's voice floated up, warm and genuine—a tone she never used with me. "You've always been my perfect daughter. You're securing the family legacy."

"Thanks, Mom," Sienna replied. "But what about Aria? Do you think she'll actually help with the wedding? She's so... difficult."

"Oh, ignore her," my mother laughed softly. "Aria is just going through a phase. She’ll come around eventually and realize we were right. She always falls in line. She's not strong like you."

I froze on the stairs. My hand gripped the banister so hard my knuckles turned white.

She's not strong like you.

A cold, hard clarity settled over me. It replaced the hurt. It replaced the longing.

They didn't think I was strong? They thought I was just going through a phase?

I realized then that begging for scraps from their table would never work. They would never respect me as long as I played the role of the quiet, disappointing twin.

I thought about the masquerade ball next week. The masks. The anonymity. The elite crowd of NeXus Gaming executives.

Sienna wanted me there as a prop. A maid of honor to hold her train.

No.

I would go. I would wear the dress. But I wouldn't be the shadow.

I turned and walked down the stairs, my head held high. I didn't go back into the dining room. I walked straight to the front door, grabbed my purse, and walked out into the cool night air.

I didn't say goodbye.

As I started my car, the engine roaring to life in the quiet driveway, I looked back at the mansion one last time.

I’d show them I didn't need their approval. I just needed to prove I was worth something. The masquerade party would be my chance to network, to meet Noah West on my own terms, and to show them exactly who Aria Stone really was.

Or so I thought.

I had no idea that the mask I planned to wear would be the very thing that stripped me bare.