Sowhere in the city, inside a glossy high-rise apartnt where envy simred hotter than the sun, Rachel sat cross-legged on a velvet stool, her ankle swinging with tight impatience.
The skyline blinked through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, casting a silver glow over the marble floors.
But it was the cold, blue light from her phone screen that illuminated her face—jaw clenched, brows drawn low, and eyes burning with sothing far more volatile than re curiosity.
She’d watched the viral clip ten tis.
Then ten more.
Each ti, she paused at the exact sa fra: Roman Thompson, the most powerful bachelor in the country, leaning toward a girl with tears on her cheeks—his hand curled gently around hers like they were the only two people left in the world.
And that girl?
That pitiful, small-voiced, teary-eyed, public ss of a girl?
Julie.
Rachel’s nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed to slits.
Her lips, once curved into an involuntary frown of disbelief, pulled upward into sothing far more sinister—a sneer of contempt.
"She gets to be comforted by him?" she muttered, venom coiling around each syllable. "She gets the sympathy, the attention, the trending hashtags?"
She scoffed and sat back, folding her arms across her chest.
Her silk robe, once gracefully draped over her shoulder, now clung awkwardly, twisted from her agitated movents.
"They always fall for the soft ones," she spat. "Cry a little, lower your eyes, play the victim—and suddenly the whole country worships you."
Rachel wasn’t jealous because Julie had Roman.
No.
She was livid that soone like Julie—a nobody with scandal clinging to her na like oil—was being celebrated just because a powerful man offered her his hand.
Rachel had never t Roman Thompson. Not once.
But she had watched him from afar.
Admired the steel in his voice during boardroom interviews, the way caras gravitated toward him like he carried his own gravity.
She didn’t need to know him personally to understand his value—his reach, his untouchable image.
And now, that image was being wasted on soone like Julie.
Soone with nothing. No na. No roots. No legacy.
Until now.
"Oh, poor girl... caught in a scandal," Rachel mocked in a syrupy tone, contorting her face into a fake pout.
She mimicked wiping away imaginary tears, then suddenly flung her phone across the plush white sofa.
The soft thud echoed faintly in the sleek stillness of her apartnt.
Rachel rose, pacing across the room like a panther trapped in a glass cage.
Her bare feet sank slightly into the thick ivory carpet with each sharp step.
Outside, the city glimred, unaware of the fury building in one of its tallest towers.
She moved past the minimalist bookshelves, a black-and-white photo of her younger self watching coldly from a fra, and toward the sleek marble kitchen island where her laptop waited like a weapon.
She planted her hands on the counter, her reflection flashing back at her from the darkened glass windows—shoulders tense, eyes wild, lips slightly parted like she’d just tasted sothing bitter.
Her mind was already calculating.
This was her mont.
The internet was still uncertain—sympathy on one side, suspicion on the other.
And Rachel?
Rachel knew exactly how to tip the balance.
She flipped open her laptop. The screen lit up, and her fingers flew across the keys.
Tabs opened in rapid succession—Twitter, Reddit, Instagram. Then the secret ones. The accounts that didn’t bear her na but carried her influence.
Anonymous, but powerful.
@CampusWhisperer: "Y’all really gonna ignore the fact that Julie was smiling a little too quickly after those tears? Manipulation 101."
@TeaUnfiltered: "Still waiting for the REAL story behind that video. Leaked scandal rich man defense = public sympathy trap. Don’t be fooled."
Soon, the replies ca.
"Wait, wasn’t she involved in sothing else before?" "Sothing feels off about her..." "Too calculated. I don’t trust her."
Just three lines of calculated poison—enough to plant hesitation in thousands of minds.
Rachel’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.
She sat hunched over her laptop like a puppet master watching her strings tighten.
Julie’s na was trending.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not yet.
"She needs to burn," Rachel whispered under her breath.
She reached into a drawer below the island, unlocked it with a flick of her wrist, and retrieved a sleek, dusty hard drive.
From a ti when she was trying to catch the attention of a wealthy man’s assistant—posing nude in front of a mirror, her arm barely covering her chest, her lips parted in a rehearsed pout.
It had never gone viral. It had never even leaked.
Until now.
With a twisted grin, Rachel uploaded the image to her photo editing app.
Then she opened the viral video still—Julie tearful, Roman gently holding her hand in front of the car, his face turned slightly toward her like he was whispering sothing private.
She didn’t even need to photoshop anything drastic.
Her lips stretched slowly into a cruel grin.
"You think you climbed the ladder and made it to the top?" Rachel sneered at the screen, her tone dripping with scorn..
She leaned closer, her pupils dilated, voice shaking not from fear, but glee.
"Then wait for this... because it will burn that ladder to ash, and you’ll fall face-first to the ground."
She burst into laughter—sharp and sudden, echoing off the walls like a siren.
The city lights outside flickered as if shuddering at the sound.
Rachel straightened, her hair falling over her shoulder in soft, chaotic waves.
Her pulse humd in her ears, a steady rhythm of revenge. The apartnt, once silent and cold, now buzzed with anticipation.
The storm had started.
And Rachel?
Rachel was ready to feed the fire.
At the heart of the estate, beneath the outstretched limbs of a jacaranda tree, Grand Lisa waited.
She sat with her back straight, spine aligned like a ruler.
Her ivory suit was crisp, her matching hat tilted at an exact angle, and her pearl brooch glinted faintly in the sun.
Around her, the scent of gardenias mixed with the distant clink of ice from a pitcher of chilled elderflower tea.
Her gaze, sharp as a blade honed over decades of power, was fixed on the main path leading from the house.
The silence broke—footsteps.
Julie appeared first.
She moved hesitantly, her eyes still a little red from earlier, her pace slowing when she spotted the older woman waiting.
Roman followed behind her, tall and steady, his presence shadowing hers like a shield.
Lisa didn’t stand. She didn’t need to.
"Co here," she said, not unkindly, but without room for delay.
Julie approached with Roman at her side, her fingers brushing nervously at the hem of her blouse.
"Sit," Lisa said, gesturing to the cushioned bench across from her. "Both of you."
They obeyed.
For a mont, the only sound was the rustle of leaves and the faint bubbling of the nearby stone fountain.
Lisa’s gaze moved from Roman to Julie, then settled fully on the younger woman.
"What happened?" she asked.
Julie blinked, startled. "Pardon?"
Lisa’s voice remained calm, yet utterly commanding. "In that video. What made you cry like that?"
Julie’s throat bobbed. Roman reached for her hand, but Lisa lifted one finger.
"Let her speak," she said.
Julie drew in a shaky breath. The garden felt warr now, the sun pressing against her back.
"I was summoned by the school’s head advisor... because a scandalous video of had leaked. I didn’t know what I was walking into. I just ca out of the bathroom, and soone told to report to the disciplinary board."
Lisa’s eyes didn’t blink. "And?"
Julie’s voice softened. "They were whispering. Staring. Like I was already guilty. Like the verdict had been written on my face. And I didn’t even know what I’d done."
"I have seen the video yesterday but I have never done such a thing," Julie said sniffing her eyes full of tears.
Her words cracked toward the end, and she quickly cleared her throat.
Lisa didn’t interrupt.
Roman, for once, remained silent beside her—letting the storm pass through its own course.
Julie looked down at her hands, embarrassed. "When I sat outside the eting room... I—I broke down. I couldn’t stop it. Then Roman showed up."
She didn’t hide anything but say it all as if complaining to her own mother.
Lisa turned to him.
"I had her watched," he said simply. "When I found out what was happening, I ca straight there."
Lisa nodded once, processing.
"You didn’t cry for attention," she said to Julie.
Julie looked up, stunned.
"You cried because the world turned on you without cause," Lisa continued. "And because it’s always easier to tear down a woman than to ask who lit the fire under her feet."
A heavy silence followed, rich with unspoken things.
Then Lisa sat back.
"Good," she said, pouring herself another cup of tea. "Now that I know, we can move forward."
Julie blinked. "You... believe ?"
Lisa arched a brow. "I don’t make judgnts based on hashtags, child. I make them based on truth. And what I see in you—those tears weren’t performance. They were pain."
She took a sip, then added, ""Because if soone tried to ruin you... they didn’t start a rumor. They started a war."
Julie swallowed hard.
Lisa gave a small smile. "Don’t worry. In this house... you won’t face it alone."
For the first ti, Julie’s shoulders dropped slightly.
Roman leaned back, watching his grandmother with sothing close to gratitude.
Lisa set her cup down with a soft clink.
"Now," she said, "tell who’s behind the video leak. Because if soone wanted to ruin you—they’ve just earned a war of their own."
Oh my!!! grandma Lisa.
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