Lahat ng Kabanata ng I Won’t Be Stand-In Anymore: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 9

Back at the penthouse we'd shared for five years at Park Crescent, I started packing.Turned out, not much of what was in the place was actually mine.I stood in the empty living room and looked at the space where I'd spent five years of my life, and something strange and clean settled in my chest.Five years. A full five years. When had I started living like a shadow, waiting to be ordered around?I remembered when I first met Ethan. He was the brightest thing at Parsons, not because of talent, but because of that extravagant warmth he had. He used to charge into the library in a downpour and throw his jacket over the blueprints I was drafting, saying, "Don't let the ink bleed." Then he'd grin and tell me he didn't mind getting soaked. My designs mattered more. Back then I thought if a man knew how to protect someone else's work that carefully, he had to know how to care for the person behind it.And he did, for a little while.The year we graduated, we crammed into a basement studio

The news hit New York like a shockwave.Adrian Sterling's instincts were legendary. Anyone he rated this highly had to be something extraordinary.Meanwhile, Ethan was drowning.The designers he'd hired to replace me couldn't carry the weight I'd been holding. The new season rolled out to thin applause, and then to open accusations from long-time clients that Whitmore's work had "lost its soul."The quarterly earnings were cut in half. The board started closing in.To claw his way back, Ethan bet everything on one thing: the Starwater Bay Landmark Tower competition, New York's next billion-dollar landmark project. Whoever won it could plant a flag in this city for good.Ethan poured every resource into it. He pulled staff off other accounts. Mandatory overtime. All hands on Starwater Bay.Celeste couldn't stay out of it. She demanded her "artistic vision" be integrated into the design.When Jenna called me with the leaked intel, she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe."Celeste,

The morning after I dropped the alias, I sat down for an exclusive with the most influential trade magazine in the industry, under my own name, as X.In front of the camera, I spread out five years of original drafts and timestamped files. Every blueprint stamped with my personal watermark."For the last five years, for reasons that were personal, I chose to work anonymously.""My generosity was repaid with theft and public humiliation.""As of today, I am rescinding Whitmore & Co.'s commercial rights to every design I produced while associated with them."The interview dropped. The design world and half the business world detonated."Holy. This is the bombshell of the year. Whitmore's 'lead designer' was X the whole time.""Ethan Whitmore is a garbage person. Five years of leeching off a woman's talent and he called her a drafting machine?""I cannot stop laughing. He kicked the real talent out and kept the pretty girlfriend. He must be spitting up blood right now."Public rage rolled

Ethan's harassment didn't stop after the garage.It got worse. With nothing left to lose, he tipped into open revenge.If he wasn't going to survive this, he didn't want me to, either.A few days later, a long-form exposé dropped across every major feed.The headline was weaponized: "The Dirty Truth About 'X': New York's Darling Designer Slept Her Way to the Top."The piece purported to be an inside account. It said I'd been sleeping with clients back at Whitmore & Co., that I'd discarded my five-year boyfriend to climb into Adrian Sterling's bed, that I'd fabricated evidence, that I'd framed my innocent ex and driven his company into the ground out of pure malice.The article ran a grainy photograph, one of those candid shots taken at a bad angle over dinner, Adrian leaning in to hand me a napkin. You couldn't see what he was actually doing. You could read it as a kiss.It caught fire immediately. Trending list, front page.Strangers by the thousand started tearing into me. My DMs ove