Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobela Awakening

My family was so poor we owned exactly one decent coat between us. The day it was my older brother's turn to wear it out to dig wild greens, a princess out hunting spotted him and took him straight into the palace as her consort. I went to the wedding feast when my brother married the princess. The most beautiful woman in the capital, the Chancellor's daughter, looked at me once. The very next day, sixty-six carriers of betrothal gifts piled up outside our thatched hut. She'd marry no one but me. When my old teacher heard the news, he showed up at our door. He'd been a widower for years, raising his son alone, and now he offered to adopt me as his son and give me a proper wedding to be proud of. In my last life, I'd wept with gratitude and said yes. I never imagined that on my wedding day, my teacher and the Chancellor's daughter would be fished out of the lily pond stripped bare and locked in each other's arms. She fainted from the shock. He screamed that he'd been framed and tried to throw himself against a rockery to end it all. Her reputation was ruined beyond saving, so she had no choice but to marry him instead. He climbed straight into the chancellery on the back of it, while I picked up a hoe and went back to my village to keep digging up wild greens. A year later, word came from the princess's estate that my brother had drowned. I rode through the night on a donkey to get there, and found wedding decorations hanging from every doorway of the estate. My teacher's son, it turned out, had been comforting the grieving princess with cup after cup of wine. One drunken night, she'd mistaken him for my brother and kept him till morning. He became the new consort. Ten years later, I saw them again. Father and son were dressed in silk and dripping with power, while life had ground me down to nothing. The two of them tossed a handful of copper coins at me out of pity, then swept off surrounded by servants. I froze to death in the street that winter, clutching my brother's photograph. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my teacher came to ask to adopt me as his son.

Just as I was on the verge of miscarriage from a fall, my husband—New York's most powerful Don—was throwing a lavish birthday gala for his childhood sweetheart, Camilla. I called, begging for help, but he dismissed it as a cheap stunt and coldly hung up. As his wife, I bore the honor of being the Donna—yet no one knew I couldn't even scrape together a thousand dollars. All because, to "train" me into a proper Donna, he had handed total control of my life and finances straight to Camilla. Desperate, I begged anyone who would listen. But by the time I finally scraped the money together, my baby's heartbeat stopped forever. After waking up in that hospital bed, I dragged myself back to his penthouse to pack my bags. That was when I stumbled upon the auction receipt for Camilla's birthday gift. A ten-million-dollar mansion in Beverly Hills, plus endless custom jewelry. Just then, his deep, raspy voice drifted from the study next door. He was on a call with his underbosses. "Boss, was Scarlett really at the hospital begging you for a grand?" Cassius scoffed. "Scarlett is my Donna. She has my men guarding her 24/7. How could anything possibly happen to her? She's just pulling a cheap stunt for attention. Camilla is right. I've spoiled Scarlett too much lately. If Camilla isn't strict with her, how is an orphan going to earn the Famiglia's respect? She'll understand my good intentions later." Tears slipped down my face. Fuck his rules. Fuck his Donna. The second the doctor called my baby's time of death, I decided I was out of his life—never to return.

Liam Hurley's favorite thing to say to me is, "Don't worry." Don't worry. Once he consolidates his power and ends the internal strife of the pack, we'll reveal our relationship. Because of that, I waited for two years. Don't worry. We'll hold the bonding ceremony as soon as his mother accepts me. I waited for another three. In the fifth year, at the banquet celebrating Liam's rise to Alpha of the Ashmoon pack, his mother, Elana Gibson, unclasps the moonstone necklace from around her neck in front of everyone. Liam told me long ago that passing down the moonstone necklace is the Ashmoon pack's official ritual for acknowledging a Luna. I figure Liam won't be telling me not to worry this time. "Here, let me put this on you." Elana walks right past me and gently fastens the necklace around the neck of Lilith Powell, Liam's assistant. The whole banquet hall falls dead silent. Elana pats the back of her hand with a warm smile. "Lilith is so sweet and kind, and she's been a massive help to Liam. She has a special place in my heart." I hear someone whisper, "What about Freya?" Liam lowers his voice. "My mother cherishes bonds. Lilith really has done a lot for me, so don't take it personally. Don't worry, okay? Next month, I'll take you to pick out a better moonstone necklace that's way more valuable than that one." As the crowd scatters, Lilith strokes the necklace and gives me a smug smile. "Freya, are you jealous? Elana says this moonstone has been passed down for seven generations in the Ashmoon pack." I tell her I am. Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Nordravia?"

In my past life, Noah Luther, my brother, runs away from his engagement. The bride, Julia Zimmerman, shows no resentment and simply switches the arrangement to me right on the spot. She is courteous and thoughtful toward me after the wedding, but that all changes when Noah crosses someone abroad and has his limbs crushed. She actually spends the whole night in the study after learning of that incident. I assume Julia is worried about my safety when she sends over a dozen bodyguards to me the following day, a gesture that touches me deeply. I suddenly lose consciousness out of nowhere the next day. Then, I get abducted to an abandoned factory and have my hands and legs crushed bit by bit. It's so painful that I try to bite my tongue to commit suicide from the agonizing pain. Julia walks in slowly, looks at my condition, and says wistfully, "So that's how much pain he went through back then." When Noah trips and falls during rehabilitation and loses a tooth, Julia violently pulls out my tooth with pliers that very same night. She looks at my bloody mouth and says calmly that she's only doing this for my sake since I eat too much. Soon after, I "happen" to fall down the stairs when Noah sprains his back, forcing me to stay in bed for three months. Julia even breaks a cup and drives the shards into my hand when Noah accidentally slices his finger while chopping vegetables. Noah later dies in a car accident abroad. Julia drags me to a bridge over the river and jumps off with me, saying, "You're just a stand-in for him. He's dead now, so you shouldn't live either." I open my eyes and find myself back on the day Julia arrives to talk about the wedding arrangement. Noah has already fled through the back door, so she looks at me coldly and says, "I'll marry you, then." I merely smile and say, "I'm already in love with someone else, so please find another person for this marriage, Ms. Zimmerman."

The day my son, Nathan Cardin, turns one month old, we are both kidnapped. Our kidnapper demands that I call my wife, Jennifer Surton, so that he can demand ransom money. Since the phone is placed on loudspeaker mode, everyone can hear her scoff. "Asking for money again? You sure are going all out with your act this time." I'm about to explain when I suddenly hear someone sigh and lament. [Oh dear, how did I end up with the same start even after being reborn? Daddy is completely unaware that Mommy is currently busy gathering funds, after her first love claimed that he's now burdened with substantial debt due to helping her with her company.] Just as I'm wondering who said that, a man's voice comes over the phone call. "Jen, save me!" The call is abruptly cut off. While the kidnapper dials Jennifer's number over and over again, I hear that voice speak once more. It sounds incredibly young. [Daddy, don't bother wasting your energy. In our previous life, Mommy came to rescue us with the money, which resulted in her first love getting killed by his debtors. In her terrible grief, she set us both on fire and burned us to ashes.] Dozens of tries later, Jennifer finally picks up again. "Can't you be a little more understanding? What do you think is more important—Rick's life or you buying a new car?" Gazing at Nathan nearby, I grit my teeth and answer, "Go and save Hendrick. He's more important." In my mind, I vowed, "Don't be scared, son. I'll make sure that we both live on in this life."

Declan, the Alpha heir of the Nighthowl Pack and my arranged mate, proposed to me right after donating his Alpha marrow to his childhood sweetheart. In my past life, I said yes out of love and for the sake of our pack alliance. But after we mated, the weight of two territories fell entirely on my shoulders. Losing that marrow broke Declan’s inner wolf. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t shift. He couldn’t even give me a strong heir. I had to run the crystal mines while fighting off rogues for him. Before I even turned forty, I dropped dead. Utterly drained. Worked to death. And Declan? He comfortably took all the territory resources I had bled for and marked his little sweetheart. They lived happily ever after in my manor. So, reborn and facing his deep, affectionate proposal once again, I just looked at him calmly and said no. "You gave away your Alpha marrow. Your wolf is broken. What makes you think a defective piece of trash like you deserves me?"

My fiance, Marcus Benton, has canceled our wedding seven times now because of his childhood friend's depression. The first time, she cut her finger and needed him to comfort her. The second time, her depression flared up, and she threatened to kill herself. Every single time something happens to her, he drops everything and abandons me. This time, he is finally supposed to keep his promise and fly me to Solaviera for our wedding. Yet on the day of our flight, he shows up with his childhood friend, Bianca Warner, in tow. "Bianca's biggest dream in life is to see the ocean in Solaviera. Let's put the wedding on hold. I'll take her to see the sea first, and I'll take you there for our wedding next time." Marcus assumes I'll just wait for him like I always do. What he doesn't know is that to be with him, I made a bet with Papa. If we fail to get married this time, I have to return to my mafia family and accept an arranged marriage. So this time, I am leaving him for good.

On New Year's Eve, I hurry home from abroad to surprise my wife, Moira Wesley, from whom I've kept my return a secret. But when I push open the front door of our home, I'm greeted by the sound of laughter and friendly chatter. Overcome with emotions, I enter the house to see Moira with a baby in her arms as she announces sweetly, "Today, we celebrate New Year's Eve and Beatrice's one-month birthday! Happy New Year, everyone!" Upon hearing my entrance, Moira glances over her shoulder, then turns and walks toward me. She grabs the mug of hot tea on the table and splashes it at me. "Who are you? How dare you trespass into a private residence on New Year's Eve?" I try to ignore the burning pain on the left side of my face as I grab Moira's arm, hoping she'll explain herself. However, she shrugs off my grip and gives me another hard slap. "Noah, call the police! Tell them a suspicious person broke into our home and is attempting to rob us!" After that, Moira winks at me, then turns with the baby in her arms and joins an older couple. "Francine, Eric, don't worry about that. It was someone irrelevant." I stand in place, watching as the large family has fun in the house that now seems so unfamiliar, and feel a sudden wave of emptiness wash over me.

Don Petty is a man of ironclad principles. When he makes a promise—no matter what it is—he'll definitely honor it. So when his ex-girlfriend, Taylor Stapley, shows up clutching a stack of long-expired relationship coupons, he honors each and every one of them. "This is a 'Movie Time' coupon. You promised to watch this re-release with me." So he abandons me, his fever-ridden wife, to spend the entire night at the movie theater with her. "This is a 'Let's Go On a Trip' coupon. You promised we'd take a trip every year." So he ignores me, his heavily pregnant wife, to watch the stars with her in the desert. "This is a 'Companionship' coupon. You need to come keep me company when I'm feeling down." So he promptly walks out on me, fresh out of surgery after a miscarriage, to be with her. That is the last time I make a scene. With bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down my face, I cling to him, begging him to stay. But Don simply yanks his hand away with a frown. "I need to honor the promises I've made," he says irritably. "That is a matter of principle! Don't be unreasonable!" But he seems to have forgotten that he's broken every promise he's made to me. Not long after I'm discharged from the hospital comes the anniversary of Mom's death. And once again, Taylor cashes in another coupon and takes him away. This time, I don't bother stopping him. This marriage that's long past its expiry date, I don't want it anymore.

I was the eldest daughter of the Beta. But my parents hid me away. My mother shoved the tray into my hands. She lowered her voice and hissed. "Your wolf is dead," my mother hissed. "You're a disgrace. Stay in the corner. Do the Omega work. Don't embarrass us." My brother, Caleb, frowned at me. "Chloe worked hard for her Silvercrest offer. Nothing can ruin her night. If the other families find out you can't even shift, we'll be a laughingstock." Then there was Julian. My fated mate. The Alpha heir of our pack. His voice was cold and sharp, as always. "Harper, tonight is the most important night of Chloe's life. Be good. Don't cause trouble." Today was the day the academy offers were announced. But my family only held a celebration for my adopted sister, Chloe. I gripped the rough fabric of my uniform. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Was I not good enough already? I was twelve when my wolf first awakened. I showed a rare healing gift. But Chloe lost her mind. She grabbed a silver blade and cried. She threatened to hurt herself. My whole family glared at me. They accused me of showing off. They said I crushed her ego. Since then, I learned to suppress my wolf. I used foul-smelling herbs to mask my scent. For six years, I endured their cold stares. I pretended to be a cripple. A useless wolf who couldn't even shift. But this time was different. The secret trials for the Lycan Healer Academy in the Royal Capital. It was the top school in the North. Every healer's ultimate dream. I watched them crowd around Chloe. Their faces glowed with pride and joy. The news of my acceptance letter died in my throat. Fine. If they thought I was just a useless loser, I didn't need to tell them my plans. In three days, I was leaving the pack. I was flying thousands of miles away to the Royal Capital.

In the short time I'm away at the restroom, the waiter has already cleared half the dishes on the table. My girlfriend and best friend move to a two-seat table by the window, sitting across from each other, completely engrossed in conversation. Neither of them even notices that I've left and come back. "I'm flying to Portside City next week. This hotel has a rooftop pool. Are you in, Captain Clark?" Dylan Humphrey's voice is bright. "If you like it, then sure. It could be a nice getaway." I freeze. That is the same hotel I had shared in our group chat a month ago. Back then, Hayley Clark had replied with only three words, "Stop following trends." Bitterness rises in my throat. Suddenly, I'm reminded of our high school graduation night. The three of us stay up late talking about our futures. Hayley says she wants to become a pilot, and Dylan swears he will be the most handsome flight attendant in the sky. Then, they both turn to me, their eyes shining with expectation. I say, "Then, I'll be an air traffic controller. No matter how high you two fly, I'll be the one guiding you." Now, watching them sit across from each other, chatting and smiling, I suddenly feel disheartened. I don't want to keep waiting for them to land anymore. My control tower is shutting down.

In Onyx City, the ancient Thorne clan lived by a ruthless blood-pact law. If the clan Lord granted a new fledgling his absolute protection, the reigning Consort had to yield her place. She was required to remove her bloodstone collar—the ultimate symbol of his patronage and power—and fasten it around the neck of the new ward herself, right in front of the entire clan. Mia was that fledgling. Today marked exactly one year since she had been taken under the wing of Lord Luca, the man I considered my mate. Every vampire in Onyx City was waiting for me to break down. After all, I had been his closest companion and deepest obsession for ten years. I was the dying stray he’d saved from a hunter’s silver blade. I had craved him like a drug. I used to wake up in the dead of night, begging for his bite, his blood. I only felt peace when his scent swallowed me whole. They all knew my sickening dependence on him. They had even placed bets, swearing I would never let go. Yet, as Mia tilted her pale, fragile neck at me, taunting me with her sickeningly sweet voice, I didn't shed a single tear. Without a moment's hesitation, I unclasped the heavy bloodstone collar and fastened it around her throat myself. Luca lounged on his dark velvet throne, swirling the blood wine in his goblet. His scarlet eyes gleamed with amusement. "Elara. You've finally learned how to please me." I lowered my eyes, my fingertips brushing my bare, cold collarbone. I said nothing. Luca didn't know the truth. My sealed memories had awakened a month ago. I wasn't some lowly stray who had been clinging to life on the streets. I was the lost princess of the Nightshades, the oldest and most formidable Original bloodline in the dark world. In three days, my brother would arrive to take me home. I would reclaim my true identity.

The night my husband came home from another flight smelling of another woman's perfume, one question was taking over social media. "Where have all the homemaker over forty-seven gone? "If life as a homemaker is so wonderful, why doesn't anyone ever speak up about it?" My husband, an international airline captain with over a million followers, signed us up for a livestream. He wanted me to prove that homemaker hadn't vanished. According to him, they were simply loved, protected, and cherished by their husbands. He was certain I'd play along. After all, for 22 years, I'd been the perfect wife. Even when my swollen joints hurt so much I could barely hold a spatula, I still washed his uniforms and made sure dinner was waiting when he got home. Even when he walked through the door carrying another woman's perfume, I would only touch my wedding ring and tell myself the same lie. "He's just having a little fun. In the end, he'll always come back to me." On the day of the livestream, he smiled at the camera and told everyone how happy our marriage was. I was in the kitchen baking, carrying dish after dish to the table. Then the host asked me one simple question. "Would you want your daughter to grow up to be the homemaker as you?" My husband smiled and typed his answer onto the teleprompter for me to read. "Of course." I walked into the frame with the last dish in my hands. I looked straight into the camera. "No," I said. "I wouldn't."

On the day our couple channel hit thirty million followers, the milestone video was supposed to be my official debut on camera. I woke up at five in the morning to do my makeup and tried on a dozen different dresses. However, right before the cameras rolled, Julian stopped me. "Willow, let's have Evangeline do it instead. She's just more camera-ready. The fans will love her." Evangeline was my best friend. I stood frozen for a long time, but in the end, I simply nodded. From that day on, Julian and Evangeline played a romantic couple on screen for three years. I stood behind the lens, writing their scripts, setting up their lighting, and editing every single frame. I watched the comment section explode day after day. [They look so deeply in love! My favorite ship ever!] And I watched Julian hold Evangeline's hand with more and more ease. Until the night of our three-year anniversary stream, when the host asked them a question live on camera. "When was the exact moment you two felt the strongest spark for each other?" Julian and Evangeline smiled in perfect sync. "The very first day we shot together on camera." In an instant, the live stream chat erupted into wild cheers and screams. Sitting in the dark corner of the studio behind the control monitor, my heart sank. They had spent three years pretending to be in love, and I was the only fool who treated it like an act. As soon as the broadcast wrapped, I logged into the channel dashboard and revoked all my admin access. Then, I opened an email invitation for an overseas film project I had received two weeks ago and accepted it. From now on, I was done writing their love story.

Neil Waller had a strange way of handling every fight between us. He called it a reconciliation mystery box. Whenever we argued, he would block me for three days. Then, as if nothing had happened, a link would suddenly appear on my phone. His message usually went something like this: "Open it. If you get 'Better Luck Next Time,' leave me alone. If you get a reconciliation coupon, maybe I'll forgive you." For years, I played along. The punishments changed every time. Sometimes, I had to put up with another week of being ignored. Sometimes, Neil made me apologize in front of other people. Once, I opened the mystery box while he was having dinner with another woman, only for him to casually tell me we could talk after he was finished. The sixth time I finally drew a reconciliation coupon, Neil wrapped his arms around me and gave me that relaxed, self-assured smile I knew so well. "See, Gabriella? No matter how unlucky you are, you still come back to me in the end." At the time, I told myself his indifference was only an act. I believed that somewhere beneath his arrogance and careless attitude, Neil still loved me. Then I discovered the mystery box he had made for the new intern, Shelley Vaughn. Hers had only one outcome: Neil's unconditional favor, and her chance of getting it was one hundred percent. One day, Shelley accidentally knocked over my coffee. Before I could even react, Neil immediately went to comfort her. The coffee had spilled across the back of my hand, leaving my skin red and stinging, yet Neil frowned. "You're not a little girl anymore. Do you really need someone to comfort you over every small thing?" That night, another mystery box appeared on my phone. It was the seventh one. Neil had left a message underneath it. 'Open it. If you get the Reconciliation Coupon, come back.' I stared at those words for a long time. This time, I did something different. I never opened the box. I blocked Neil instead. On the seventh round, I finally stopped waiting for him to choose me. For once, I chose myself.

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

When my Alpha heir fiancé, Weston, chose jewelry for our bonding ceremony, he did what he always did, buying two of everything so my twin sister, Riley, could pick first. One was a moonstone necklace, blessed by a High Witch. The other was a simple onyx choker, the kind of cheap trinket you could find anywhere in the pack market. For the first time, I spoke before Riley could make her choice. I pointed to the moonstone necklace. "This time, can I choose first?" Weston's palm settled on the crown of my head, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Riley is the jewel of your pack. She is meant to shine and deserves things worthy of a princess. You don't care about these things, Lyra. The choker suits you better. Quiet, unassuming." I didn't say a word, but something inside me crumbled to dust. In this family, Riley always got the first cut of roasted venison and the room with the best sunlight. My mother said Riley was the pack's glory and deserved the best, while my father called it survival of the fittest. Our two packs had arranged this alliance long ago, and everyone assumed his mate would be Riley. But she despised being tied down and yearned for freedom, so Weston settled for me. I had known Weston for twenty years. In his world, I would always be Riley's stand-in. I looked down at the choker and pushed it away. "If Riley wants them, she can have both. I don't want either." I was done with leftovers, and that included my Alpha mate.

On my wedding day, I slept for six hours inside my own dressing room. By the time I reached the DeLuca family chapel in the Hudson Valley, Matteo had already completed the entire ceremony with his childhood friend, Sofia Rinaldi, the daughter of one of the DeLucas’ oldest allied families. She wore the gown I had spent six months designing and the pearl tiara passed down through generations of DeLuca women. Allies from New York, Chicago, and Sicily had witnessed everything. No one had saved a place for the real bride. Matteo looked at my pale face and explained calmly. “Sofia put the sedative in your tea. She only wanted one wedding. The dose was small, so there is no reason to make this into something bigger.” Everyone waited for me to cause a scene. I only let out a quiet sigh and looked at Matteo with disappointment. My family had given me one final chance to marry for love. Now that the wedding had failed, I had to return to Sicily, obey their decision, and inherit the family.

When I handed in my resignation, my supervisor said, "Mr. Foster promised to marry you once you made director. You're only one promotion away, so why quit now?" I looked down at my pant legs, the hems still soaked from the puddles outside. "Because of an umbrella." My mind went back to yesterday. Rain was pouring down, and I was stranded at the office entrance without an umbrella. Mark Foster's new assistant, Rachel Lynch, was stuck there too. Mark came downstairs carrying a single umbrella. He didn't hesitate before offering to share it with Rachel. After all, no one would read anything into the two of them being seen together. He looked at me and said flatly, "Erin, because we're together, sharing an umbrella would only get people talking. It's not worth it." I stood frozen for a long moment, watching them walk away beneath the same umbrella. Then I ran straight into the rain. In the ten years Mark and I had been together, he had fallen back on the same excuse more times than I could count. "Since we're together, we have to be careful about how things look." That was why I always came and went alone, while every promotion passed me by. Now, even sharing an umbrella with him was apparently too much to ask. By the time my resignation was official, the rain had eased to a drizzle. This time, I opened my own umbrella and walked away, calm and unhurried. I didn't need his anymore. It was never meant to shelter me anyway.

The night I lost the promotion I had worked for years to earn, I sent my boyfriend, Arthur, a text message. [I'm a little tired today, but the hot dog at the corner actually tastes pretty good.] My screen stayed dark. Half an hour later, I couldn't stop myself from typing again: [Are you busy? I just want to hear your voice.] A reply finally lit up my screen: [Are you trying to guilt me into sending you money?] I stared at the text, frozen. When Arthur had first started his company, his mother had drained every account and disappeared with all the funds, leaving him with billions in debt overnight. After that, he hated one thing above all else. Women who loved him for his money. For seven years, I had done everything I could to prove I wasn't one of them. We went Dutch on meals, I returned his gifts, and the results of every corporate project I handled were laid out in the open for anyone to scrutinize. And now, as I mindlessly scrolled through social media, I saw a selfie posted by Jessica, the intern who had just stolen my promotion. She was wearing a plunging V-neck gown, pinned with a pigeon-blood ruby brooch. The caption read: [Thank you to Mr. Whitmore for the congratulations. I look forward to learning from you in the future.] That brooch was a top-tier custom piece. I'd seen it in a catalog from an auction house. Tears blurred my screen into a messy haze. I suddenly understood. The innocence I'd spent seven years proving was worth less to him than the hot dog I'd just choked down. Since that was the case, I dialed a number I hadn't called in a very long time. "Papa, I want to come home. I'm ready to be the heiress."