I’m the daughter of the wicked stepmother. Unlike the heroine—the kind, noble, beautiful, talented girl all the men fall for—I am the opposite. Vicious, low-class, flashy, and painfully average. Every trait I was given was designed to be a dark reflection of her, of Lila Monroe. So, the moment I became self-aware, the moment I saw the strings, I decided to play my part. To play it to the hilt. I partnered with her father’s biggest rival to run his company into the ground. I drugged the story’s leading man, Ethan Prescott, letting him believe we’d slept together. I stole Lila’s spot in a prestigious design program overseas, studying under the master who was meant to be her mentor. And now, seven years later, I’ve returned as a celebrated designer. I’m a judge on a primetime competition show, and Lila Monroe is just another contestant looking up at me from the stage. I let the full weight of my character settle in, my voice dripping with the poison they wrote for me. “This design is uninspired. You don’t have the gift. It’s better to quit now, before you embarrass yourself further.” 1 A collective gasp swept through the studio. A delicious, scandalized sound. No one expected that from Sloane Cassidy, the judge who was usually so poised, so encouraging. Certainly not on live television. Lila’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a word she couldn’t say. Sister. I ignored her, tossing her portfolio onto the rejection pile with theatrical disinterest and pressing the red button on the console. “You’re eliminated.” The model wearing Lila’s dress, a fiery girl named Zara, stormed off the stage. “You call this uninspired? You think she has no talent? Who here is better than her? Who?!” Every saccharine story has one of these: the loyal, brainless best friend. Zara played her part perfectly. With one sentence, she managed to insult every other designer in the room on Lila’s behalf. “Sloane Cassidy, you’re just jealous! You’re terrified she’s going to steal your spotlight!” “Zara, stop it…” Lila pleaded, reaching for her arm. But Zara was on a roll. “Why should we stop? What makes her qualified to sit up there?!” “If you feel I’m so unqualified, by all means, take my seat. The panel is yours.” I offered them a serene, unbothered smile. Lila’s face flushed with shame. She ducked her head. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Cassidy. We’ll leave right now.” 2 “One moment.” Just as Lila was about to pull Zara away, another voice cut through the tension. And there he is, I thought, a slow, triumphant smile curving my lips. Right on cue. The cameras swiveled, searching for the source of the voice before landing on him. A perfectly sculpted face, all sharp angles and cool indifference, filled the screens, drawing another wave of whispers from the audience. He walked past the line of judges, his steps measured and confident, stopping directly in front of Lila. He gave her a brief, reassuring glance before turning his gaze to me. “This design,” he said, his voice low and challenging. “What, specifically, is wrong with it?” Ethan Prescott. Seven years, and here we were again. His dark eyes held a storm of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. Was it hatred for how I’d just treated his precious Lila? Or was it for the lie I’d spun seven years ago, the night I let him believe I’d taken something from him? Or maybe it was for the spot I’d stolen, the future that should have been hers. It didn’t matter which. Every single one of them brought me a sick, satisfying pleasure. Their misery was my happiness. I leaned into the microphone, my smile widening. “I don’t like it. That’s my reason.” A stunned silence fell over the studio. Ethan’s jaw tightened, his displeasure radiating like a physical force. Anyone could see he was furious. As the online comments began to fly, speculating on who this man was, he let out a cold, humorless laugh. “In that case, I suppose I should mention… I’m also a judge on this program.” Confusion rippled through the audience. Then, he began to walk toward the panel, his destination clear. [Live Comment: I know him! That's Ethan Prescott, CEO of The Prescott Group! They're the main investor in this show. I can't believe they got him here in person!] [Live Comment: I don't think the show *got* him. I think that contestant, Lila, did.] [Live Comment: They obviously know each other. He's totally her safety net. Is he about to get revenge on Sloane for what she said?] The energy in the room crackled. Everyone leaned forward, hungry for a fight. I remained perfectly still in my chair, watching him approach. He sat in the empty seat beside me, and a familiar scent—sandalwood and cold ambition—enveloped me. It was suffocating. I disliked it intensely, shifting away with a slight, deliberate wrinkle of my nose. I saw his body tense, a barely perceptible hitch in his breath. For a second, I wondered if the air conditioning had kicked up a notch. Then, he reached forward and slammed the green button. “I think this design is exceptional. It should advance to the finals.” It was a blatant, public declaration. He was undermining me, shielding her. Lila, who had been struggling to maintain her composure, finally let her eyes well up with tears. Beside her, Zara shot me a look of pure, childish triumph. I simply raised an eyebrow, utterly unfazed. Ethan Prescott, playing the hero. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. From the moment I heard Lila was competing, I knew he wouldn’t be far behind. Where the damsel is, the white knight is never far behind. 3 “I’ve never liked Sloane Cassidy. Her clothes are ugly and overpriced. I don’t know why she’s so arrogant.” “This is so embarrassing. Ethan Prescott is clearly furious with her. How is she going to recover from this in the industry?” “Recover? She just crossed Ethan Prescott’s girl. She’s going to get blacklisted!” The whispers started around me, a chorus of gleeful speculation. People have always been good at kicking someone when they’re down. The director, sensing a viral moment, zoomed the camera in tight on my face, waiting for my reaction. So I gave them one. I unclipped my microphone, set it on the table, and stood up. The entire studio fell silent. Ethan froze, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line as he watched me. A production assistant rushed over, trying to block my path. The show’s golden-ticket controversy was about to walk out the door. “Ms. Cassidy, is there something you need? We can get it for you.” I smiled, a sharp, knowing smile. “I’m done.” “Wh-what?” My gaze flickered toward a specific camera. “If you’d told me the winner was already chosen, I never would have come. I’m not interested in being a prop in someone else’s fairytale. Someone else can play that part.” “Ms. Cassidy, that’s not what’s happening here,” the producer insisted, trying to save face. “Find another judge. I don’t participate in cheating.” I found a camera lens and spoke directly to the viewers at home, my expression a mask of righteous integrity. “Even if it means making powerful enemies, I refuse to betray the trust of the other designers. They are all hardworking, talented kids who deserve a fair shot!” The live chat exploded. [Live Comment: OMG I feel that so hard. Down with corporate favoritism! Stop playing with the lives of regular people!] [Live Comment: Okay, I take back everything I said about Sloane. She’s got principles!] [Live Comment: #ProtectSloaneCassidy!] My words lit a fire. The other contestants, suddenly emboldened, started ripping off their number tags and microphones, shouting that they were quitting too. The set descended into chaos. The director screamed at someone to cut the live feed. In the confusion, Zara appeared out of nowhere. She got right in my face and slapped me, hard. “You manipulative bitch!” The room went still. “Zara!” Lila cried, rushing over to pull her back. Ethan shot to his feet, his face a thundercloud. But then he did something completely unexpected. Maybe it was the glare of the studio lights, or maybe he’d gone temporarily blind, but he pulled me behind him, shielding me. He glared at Zara. “What the hell are you doing?” “Can’t you see what she’s doing, Ethan? She’s playing the victim to make everyone hate Lila!” “What did I say that wasn’t true?” I asked, stepping out from behind him. “Are you and Mr. Prescott not acquainted? Is he not an investor in this show? And did he, or did he not, just force you into the finals?” “Lila got into the finals because she’s talented! She earned it!” Zara screamed. “Hah…” I let out a soft, mocking laugh. I didn’t have to say another word. Someone in the crowd, a true connoisseur of drama, had started a new livestream on their phone the second the official broadcast ended. The gossip-hungry viewers were flooding in. Zara pointed a shaking finger at me. “Don’t think we don’t remember how you used to be obsessed with Ethan!” [Live Comment: Wait, what? They all know each other from way back?] [Live Comment: So this is just a bunch of rich kids fighting? And the model says Sloane was into Ethan?] [Live Comment: My guess: Sloane loves Ethan, but Ethan loves Lila. Oh, this is juicy!] Just as the audience was leaning in for more, my phone rang. I answered it, right there in the middle of the chaos. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” … “Annie misses Mommy? Okay, Mommy’s coming home right now.” I hung up, ignoring the shocked and confused faces around me. “I’m officially withdrawing from the show. Send the bill for breach of contract to my assistant.” Money wasn't an issue anymore. I turned to leave, but a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Ethan. His face was a mask of tension, his eyes locked on mine. “Who were you just talking to?” His grip was painfully tight. I winced and tried to pull away, but he held fast. My voice went cold. “Mr. Prescott, there are a lot of people here. I suggest you let go of me.” “Whose child is it?!” he suddenly roared, startling everyone. “I’m asking you, whose child is it?” Lila stared at him, then at me, completely bewildered. “Mr. Prescott, does it matter whose child it is? It certainly isn’t yours.” I glanced around at the sea of phones recording us and smiled sweetly. “You know, a scene like this could easily be misinterpreted. If you don’t let go, the rumor tomorrow might be that the child…” I paused, holding his gaze. “...is yours.” I watched his eyelashes flutter, saw him rendered speechless, and felt a surge of satisfaction. I yanked my arm free, gave him one last smirk, and walked away. Let him choke on that. 4 My assistant was waiting with the car at the studio’s back entrance. Just as I was about to get in, Zara ran up to us. “Sloane Cassidy, you’re disgusting. A baby out of wedlock?!” I didn't hesitate. I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. A perfect, red imprint bloomed on her cheek. She stood there, stunned for a few seconds, before her face contorted with rage. “You hit me?!” So I slapped her other cheek. Symmetrical. Much better. “That’s for the one you gave me. Consider this one a freebie. You’re welcome.” “Sloane! I’ll kill you—!” My assistant quickly jumped out of the car to hold her back. I watched the screaming, frantic girl with detached amusement. “All this shouting. So uncivilized.” “You’re so high and mighty? You, who forged Lila’s application and stole her spot at the academy? If you hadn’t stolen her portfolio, do you really think Master Renaud would have ever taken you as his apprentice?” “Sloane earned her apprenticeship with Jean-Pierre Renaud on her own merit! It had nothing to do with you people. Stop trying to claim credit for her success!” my assistant shot back. I just laughed. “Why bother explaining? She’s right. I stole it. I’m just that awful. If you’re so upset, go ahead and call the police.” Goodness is a luxury, an accessory for people who already have everything. What use did I have for it? Zara’s eyes darted to something behind me, and she sneered. “What do you have to be so proud of? You were nothing but a charity case living in Lila’s house. Lila is prettier than you, her family is better than yours, she’s more talented than you, and people actually like her!” “I’m a person, not a puppy. I don’t need to know how to be ‘liked.’” “You! We all remember how you used to throw yourself at Ethan! A man like him would never, ever love someone like you!” “Tsk. You can question my morals, but don’t you dare insult my taste. Who ever said I liked Ethan Prescott?” “Sloane.” Lila’s soft voice came from behind me. I turned. Ethan was with her, his expression cold and accusatory, as if I owed him a million dollars.
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