1 During my second year as CEO of Sterling Corp, my high school group chat suddenly blew up. Class president Jason spammed me: "Helen Sterling, Vivian was just joking back then. How can you miss her reunion? Trying to make her feel guilty?" I checked the history. Vivian Vanderbilt, my former bully, had found her biological parents and was celebrating. "Not interested," I replied. My refusal sparked wild guesses: "Stuck in a dead-end job with no days off?" "I'll lend you $300—that's like two days' pay for you, right?" Vivian jumped in, fake-sweet: "It was just a joke. I dropped out anyway. Can’t you let it go?" I replied coldly: "Only scum call bullying a joke." The chat erupted: "How dare you? She's an heiress now. You're not in her league. Poor people are so petty." Vivian played victim: "It’s fine. Today’s my new beginning—I want you there, Helen. We were classmates. I won’t blame you for making me drop out. Need money? I’ll ask my dad to hire you." She posted a screenshot with her father. I instantly recognized the profile picture: my mother’s greedy ex-husband, Edward. But I’m my mother’s twin, and Vivian’s two months younger. A cold smile spread on my face. "Alright. I’ll be there." … She sent the address moments later. It was sickeningly familiar. Hillcrest Manor, one of the eighteenth birthday gifts my mother had given me. Edward had "borrowed" it last month for an "event." If I'd only been suspicious before, I was certain now. Vivian was my father's illegitimate daughter. Just a few days ago, Edward had sent me a gushing text: "Sweetheart, good news! Your mother's finally agreed to remarry me tomorrow! We're going to be a happy family again." My parents had divorced when I was in elementary school. For years, he’d played the part of the devoted ex, constantly trying to win my mother back, showering me with gifts and messages of fatherly concern. I had actually believed he loved my mother, that their split was just a tragic incompatibility. Now I saw the truth. He never gave a damn about either of us. Using a gift from my mother to me, to throw a lavish party for his bastard daughter. Classy. I delegated my work for the evening and drove to the manor. The elegant cream façade had been slathered in a nauseating shade of Pepto-Bismol pink that I despised. Stepping inside, I saw Vivian standing center stage, holding court in my favorite couture gown, one I’d left in the manor's closet. She was surrounded by a fawning crowd of our old high school classmates and a polished, middle-aged woman who must have been her mother. "I always knew you were special, Vivian," someone gushed. "I can't believe you're a real-life heiress!" "Yeah! I heard the man who bought this estate said it was a coming-of-age gift for his daughter. Your dad must adore you, thinking of you all those years even when he couldn't find you." "Vivian, you're set for life now! Don't forget about us little people!" Even Chris, the star quarterback who’d barely given Vivian the time of day in high school, was now speaking to her with a gentle, honeyed tone. "Vivian, you've finally gotten what you deserve. We all saw how much you suffered back then." He shot a venomous glare in my direction as I approached. "So when Helen gets here, we'll make sure you get the justice you deserve. I can't believe I was ever fooled by her innocent act. I never knew she was so vicious she'd force you to drop out of school." Vivian lowered her head, a mask of perfect, calculated sorrow on her face. Her eyes, however, glinted with malice as she "defended" me. "Back then... even the principal..." She sighed dramatically. "Oh, let's just forget it. I can take it. We're all classmates, after all." Her unfinished sentence was a masterstroke, letting their imaginations run wild. Immediately, someone piped up, indignant on her behalf. "Helen Sterling is so shameless, using her family's influence to bully our Vivian." "Influence? What influence could she have?" another scoffed. "She wore off-brand trash all through high school." "Then why would the principal help her bully Vivian? Unless..." "Ew, that's disgusting. Doing that stuff in high school? She probably said she was 'busy' tonight because she's with some sugar daddy." My arrival silenced them, but only for a moment. They exchanged smirks and looks of disgust. A few even covered their noses as if I were something foul that had crawled in from the gutter. Jason eyed my outfit, a simple but impeccably tailored suit, and sneered. "Helen, I know times are tough, but you could've at least worn something decent." A wave of laughter rippled through the group. "Hilarious. To think I was in the same class as trash like you. I'd rather die than wear something so cheap." "Wait a second," someone else chimed in, squinting. "My boss has a suit like that. I think it's custom-made." "You're dreaming," another shot back. "It's probably a knock-off from some cheap website." "Or maybe she stole it from her employer to look important. How pathetic, trying to punch above your weight." I ignored their jeers, my voice flat and calm. "I don't wear other people's clothes. And this suit is bespoke, not some 'off-brand trash'." As the words left my mouth, Vivian's mother, Eleanor, stormed toward me. Her fingers, like claws, snatched the necklace from my throat. The chain bit into my skin, cold and sharp, leaving a fiery sting. CRACK. A vicious slap cracked across my face. "Of course it's custom-made," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "It was paid for with my husband's money!" She held up my necklace for everyone to see. "Your homewrecker mother has been bleeding my husband dry for years, and now you, her bastard child, have the nerve to bully my daughter? You vile creature! How dare you show your face at my daughter's party? Wasn't it enough to steal her identity for all these years? Now you've come to provoke us? You're just like your mother—a common whore!" Eleanor's words were like gasoline on a fire. "Ma'am, are you saying Helen is... illegitimate? Seriously?" someone asked. Eleanor's face was a mask of fury. She fumbled with the pendant on my necklace, popping open a hidden locket. Inside was a tiny family photo—of me as a child with my parents. "Here's the proof! Do you think I'm lying?" she shrieked. "I always knew he had a bastard child somewhere, but I never imagined she'd have the audacity to show up on my doorstep!" "This suit," she continued, gesturing wildly at me, "was Vivian's! She tried it on once, said it was a little big, and left it at home. I was cleaning a few days ago and noticed it was gone. I thought it was lost, but he gave it to her!" She pulled out her phone, showing everyone a picture of Vivian wearing a suit that was, admittedly, very similar. But in her photo, the details and the unique cuff monogram were crystal clear—it obviously wasn't the same garment I was wearing. No one noticed. A chorus of gasps went through the crowd. "Wow, they look identical! It really must be Vivian's suit. No wonder the craftsmanship is so amazing." Vivian, feeding off her mother's rage, sneered at me. "So that's why your mother never came to parent-teacher conferences. She was afraid someone would recognize her as the other woman." The floodgates opened. "A homewrecker mother probably raised a homewrecker daughter," one of them said. "I never liked her in high school. So what if she got good grades? She always had that sour look on her face, like everyone owed her money." "Exactly! She had boys from the class next door fighting over her. I used to think she was some kind of siren. Turns out she just inherited her mother's slutty genes." "Don't you know? Helen looks all prim and proper, but she's a total slut in private. I heard she used to check into hotels every day after school. I even saw her slip a room key to some middle-aged guy once!" "Oh my god, seriously? She was that wild in high school? Figures. If she was already bullying the legitimate daughter back then, there's nothing she wouldn't do." Even Hannah, my desk mate, the one person I'd considered a friend, looked at me with pure disgust. "Helen, you're morally bankrupt. I hate cheaters and their bastards more than anything in the world. I can't believe you're both." Her voice dripped with loathing. "Don't you ever say we were friends. The thought of what you've done makes me sick." The commotion drew more guests over. Soon, I was surrounded, a spectacle for a pointing, whispering crowd. I scanned the faces. Not a single person I recognized. Was Edward's social circle really this pathetic? Then it hit me—he'd intentionally invited nobodies. He was terrified my mother would find out about his dirty little secret. The crowd pressed in, a sea of glowing phone screens. Flashes popped in my eyes, sharp and blinding. I raised a hand to shield my face and walked straight up to Eleanor. "First you slander my mother, then you assault me without a shred of proof. Do you think the law is a joke?" Seeing me challenge her mother, Vivian lost it. She shoved me hard, sending me stumbling to the floor. Her voice was high and arrogant. "So what if my mom slapped you? My family's name is all the justification I need. Who would dare touch me?" She loomed over me. "You think I'm still that same girl you forced out of school? Today, I could beat you to a pulp, and your homewrecker mother wouldn't be able to say a single word." She snatched a glass of red wine from a passing waiter's tray and poured it directly over my head. "In fact, she'd probably have to get on her knees and beg my father for money to pay your medical bills. This is expensive stuff," she added with a smirk. "Consider it a free wash for the dress." Vivian's little crony cackled. "One glass isn't enough! Who knows how filthy she is? We should all help clean her up!" She grabbed another glass and flung its contents at me. It became a free-for-all. "Hahaha, yeah, wash that tramp stench off her!" "Look at her! She's probably loving this. This much wine is probably worth a few nights' work for her and her mom." Chris, wanting to impress everyone, grabbed a full bottle of champagne. He shook it violently, foam erupting, and aimed the neck right at my face. "Here, here! Open wide and drink up! Let's give you a good cleaning from the inside out! Hahaha!" My ankle had twisted when I fell; I could barely move. As the bottle flew toward my face, I threw up my hands to protect myself. It smashed against the back of my hand, sending a shockwave of pain up my arm and leaving a dark, swelling bruise. "Alright, that's enough," Vivian finally said, her voice bored. "This is my party, after all. We can't have a real scene." She looked down at me, a queen surveying a peasant. "Helen, as your former classmate, I'm willing to forgive you for everything you've done—and for what you are. But remember this: after today, whenever you see me, you will lower your head." I pushed myself up, my body aching. I tore off my drenched jacket and roughly wiped the sticky wine from my face. My gaze, ice-cold, swept over every single person who had laid a hand on me. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother. "Mom," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I'm at Hillcrest Manor. I'm in trouble." Before I could say another word, Eleanor snatched the phone from my hand. She held it to her ear and shrieked into it, "Well, as the real wife, I'm very curious to see what kind of homewrecker raises such a promiscuous, whorish daughter!" Then she threw my phone to the ground, where it shattered on the marble floor. "Look how confident she is," someone snickered. "Maybe her mom has a whole stable of sugar daddies." "Let her mom come! There are plenty of wealthy wives here tonight. It'll be a great show when her mom and her clients all end up in the same room." "What a joke. Does she think her mom is some kind of superhero? Vivian is a true heiress now, a legitimate daughter. Why would she be afraid of some mistress?" "Ooooh, I'm so scared," another mocked in a high-pitched voice. Their words were a vicious, baseless assault. I looked at the ugly, sneering faces of my old classmates and the other guests, and my voice was deadly calm. "I hope you're all still laughing at the end of this." My words spurred Vivian into another rage. She lunged, trying to grab my hair. I sidestepped and shoved her away with all my strength. My eyes locked onto Eleanor, the woman who had orchestrated this whole thing. "You keep calling me a bastard and my mother a homewrecker. But the only proof you have is a childhood photo of me." My voice grew sharper. "I have a question for you. Do you have a marriage certificate? Or was there ever a proper wedding?" I took a step closer. "Or could it be that you know perfectly well who the real mistress is, and you're just using me to vent your own pathetic frustration on me and my mother?" With every word I spoke, the color drained from Eleanor's face. Vivian sensed something was wrong and grabbed me by the collar. "You bitch! You still dare to provoke us? Where in the world is there an illegitimate child as lawless as you?" She shook me. "I would know if my mother was the rightful wife or not! And if you're not the bastard, why isn't your last name Vanderbilt?" Her last point swayed the wavering crowd. It was a fair question. Most children took their father's name. "Vivian's right. I almost fell for her bluff." "Helen is so malicious. It's bad enough her mom wrecked a family, but now she's questioning the real wife's status." As they murmured, Hannah suddenly stepped forward. "Oh, Helen! I remember you wore that earring all through high school. It must be very expensive, right?" At her words, Vivian's gaze fell on the delicate diamond stud in my left ear. "That earring looks pricey," Vivian said, her eyes narrowing. "Your mother couldn't have afforded that. Did you use my father's money for this, too?" A chill went down my spine. I instinctively reached up to cover my ear. Seeing my protective gesture, a vicious light gleamed in Vivian's eyes. "Nervous? Did I hit the nail on the head?" she purred. "Since my father paid for it, then as his rightful daughter, I have the right to take it back." I slapped her hand away as she reached for me. "My mother had this custom-made to protect me." My voice was a low warning. "If this earring is removed, it automatically sends an alert to the police. I suggest you back off." After a kidnapping attempt when I was younger, my mother had commissioned it. The moment it was forcibly removed from my ear, it would trigger a silent alarm and transmit my exact location. The only way to disable it was through an app on my phone—my phone, which was now in pieces on the floor. Vivian let out a short, ugly laugh. "You really think I'd believe that? And what does a bastard like you need protection from? Besides, even if it is as magical as you say, it still belongs to me. All of your mother's money came from my father." Seeing that reasoning with her was pointless, I decided to take it off myself. But Vivian saw my movement and barked an order to the jocks in the crowd. "Hold her down! I'm going to take it off her myself." Instantly, several guys grabbed my arms and legs. I was dragged before Vivian like a prisoner, helpless. The disgust in her eyes was raw and undisguised, far more blatant than it had ever been in high school. Her fingers closed around the stud, twisting it hard. The sharp edges of the setting dug into my earlobe, sending a spike of agony through me. She was trying to rip it straight out of the piercing. I have a bleeding disorder. If she did this, the consequences could be life-threatening. "Vivian, stop!" I gasped. "You know I have a bleeding disorder!" A sharp slap answered me, the force of it snapping my head back. "You used that lie to get me expelled in high school, Helen," Vivian hissed. "You really think I'm going to fall for it again? I'm going to expose your pathetic lies once and for all." Before I could react, she gave one final, brutal yank. "Ah!" A searing pain, as if my very bone was being carved out, exploded in my ear. My earlobe felt swollen and on fire, and a hot, slick stream of blood began to run down my neck. Vivian casually tossed the bloody earring to the floor and ground it under her heel. Her voice was pure arrogance. "Let's just see," she sneered, "if our delicate little bastard really bleeds to death." I could feel the blood soaking into my collar, a terrifying, unstoppable flow. Panic and fury surged through me. "You're insane," I choked out. I lunged at her, intent on tearing her apart, but someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path. It was Hannah. My only friend from high school. Seeing who had stopped me, Vivian's face split into a triumphant, mocking grin. "Want to hit me? Hahaha, look around, Helen. Who here is on your side?" She stepped forward deliberately, tapping her own cheek. "I'm a real heiress now. Go on, I dare you to touch me, you worthless piece of trash." I gritted my teeth, staring at Hannah, who couldn't even meet my eyes. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You're all cut from the same cloth!" I seethed. "You will all regret this." "Regret? That's hilarious. I'll never have regrets. But you? That's another story." Vivian waved a hand at our former classmates, her tone playful and cruel. "Beat her. Whoever does the best job, I'll have my dad give them a business opportunity." A wicked smile played on her lips. "Oh, and by the way, our little princess here has a bleeding disorder. I'll give ten thousand dollars to anyone who makes her bleed." That was all it took. Instantly, they were on me, a pack of wolves, regardless of whether we'd ever spoken before. Fists and feet rained down on me. "You thought you could hit Vivian for taking one earring? She's the real daughter, you bastard! You don't deserve to breathe the same air!" "A bleeding disorder? Good! I hope you don't die too quickly. A vicious bitch like you should have been strangled at birth." "Trash is trash. Hit her harder, guys! Look, she's still glaring at us!" "Hahaha, look at her! Pathetic! Someone get a video! Post it online! 'Rightful Family Teaches Homewrecker's Bastard a Lesson!' This is so satisfying!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hannah pull out a small, sharp nail tool. She plunged it into my thigh, pulled it out, and stabbed again. "You can't blame me, Helen," she whispered, her voice frantic. "I need the money to get an in at Sterling Corp. You understand, right? You have to understand." Vivian stood to the side, watching the brutal spectacle with an air of detached superiority. "Do you regret it now? Tsk, tsk. So pathetic. Like a stray dog." She leaned in close. "Remember this, Helen. This is the difference between us. Some people are just born better. You should have known not to cross me." Her words were met with a chorus of agreement. "Stray dogs at least have a home to be stray from. She's just a dirty secret who shouldn't exist." "Exactly. I heard even illegitimate children have inheritance rights now. I hope she dies right here, right now, so she can't steal from Vivian's family later." "Don't worry about that," Chris chimed in with a lewd grin. "My neighbor just divorced his wife. After the party, I'll 'gift' her to him. I hear the guy's got some... special tastes." "Hahahaha! Great idea, Chris! Trash belongs with trash!" "You know, you gotta admit, for a bitch, Helen's got a pretty good..." Their foul words swirled in my head as darkness began to creep in at the edges of my vision. The blood loss was making me weak. Vivian's high heel clicked on the blood-slicked floor. She grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at her. Her voice was a cold whisper. "How does it feel? You said your earring would call the police, that it had GPS. So where is everyone? Where are the heroes coming to save you?" Just as her words faded, the roar of engines shattered the night.
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