Chapter 2
1589words
"Mother, is your shoulder bothering you? I've been learning massage techniques. Let me help." Her voice dripped honey as her hands worked with perfect pressure, making her aunt beam with delight.
"Father, I've prepared your favorite Longjing tea. I was careful with the water temperature." She offered the cup with a respectful posture, her eyes downcast with practiced devotion.
The elders couldn't praise her enough.
"Look at Cindy, so thoughtful, so considerate."
Meanwhile, Amy couldn't do anything right. When she prepared soup for her grandfather at the hospital, her aunt said: "Oh, Amy, how sweet, but the hospital has professional nutritionists. Don't trouble yourself. See how Cindy sits quietly with us instead of making a fuss?" As Cindy, Charles, and the elders walked past discussing weekend golf plans, Charles barely glanced at Amy—like she was some random staff member—before rejoining their laughter.
That fleeting glance hurt worse than any insult. The message was clear: you and I no longer belong in the same world.
But those were merely appetizers. Soon, their systematic plundering of her resources—all in the name of "family"—officially began.
First to go was the "Elite Scholarship" her grandfather had secured for her—a golden ticket that would fund her MBA at a top overseas business school and guarantee a management position afterward. A terse email from HR informed her that her eligibility had been "reassessed" and "reassigned to a deserving new talent who needed the opportunity more."
Amy clutched the email and burst into the study where her aunt, Charles, and Cindy were having a "heart-to-heart talk."
"Aunt!" Amy's voice shook with rage. "My scholarship has been canceled and given to Cindy. What's happening?"
Her aunt set down her teacup with feigned surprise. "Is that so? Well, the selection committee must have their reasons. Amy, you need to be understanding. As for Cindy... well, such a disadvantaged child needs opportunities to prove herself. As family, we should support her."
Amy turned to Charles in disbelief—her last hope: "Charles, you know grandfather arranged that for me!"
Before Charles could respond, Cindy's eyes welled with tears. She stood timidly, her voice breaking: "Amy... sister, I'm so sorry... I had no idea. I... I can speak to HR and ask them to give it back to you. Please don't be angry with Aunt and Charles because of me..."
Her performance was masterfully calculated. If Amy pushed further, she'd become the villain bullying this "poor innocent girl."
Right on cue, Charles pulled Cindy protectively into his arms and frowned at Amy. "That's enough, Amy. Don't put Cindy in this position. It's just one training opportunity. Don't be so petty."
"Petty." With that single word, he pronounced her guilty.
Amy's heart sank, but she refused to give up. She believed that with enough hard work, she could prove herself.
Eventually, after calling in numerous favors, she secured an intern position in a department of the family conglomerate.
She outworked everyone, arriving first and leaving last every day. Yet disaster still shadowed her every move.
One day, a critical error appeared in an important report under her name, resulting in a harsh departmental reprimand. Her supervisor—her uncle's confidant—slammed the document on her desk in front of everyone: "Save your excuses! If you can't handle something this basic, what good are you?"
Amy couldn't defend herself. She distinctly remembered Cindy had "kindly" offered to submit the final version of the report.
Charles found her that evening. Amy clutched at this lifeline, desperately explaining: "It wasn't me, Charles! Cindy was the one who—"
"I understand." Charles cut her off with a weary sigh. "Amy, try to be more considerate of Cindy's position. She's new here, trying to help you and prove herself. She told me she felt so guilty she couldn't sleep all night. Please don't blame her anymore."
Once again, he effortlessly twisted a deliberate sabotage into Amy being inconsiderate and Cindy making an innocent mistake.
Amy's world was being dismantled piece by piece. Resources, opportunities, trust—everything was being transferred to Cindy's name while Amy was pushed steadily toward complete isolation.
Inside the company, things were equally grim. Anonymous posts began appearing on the internal forum claiming "a certain Miss G who parachuted into the company on her grandfather's coattails is marginalizing the hardworking orphan girl and hoarding resources."
Charles saw these posts but scrolled past them, choosing to look the other way.
Amy repeatedly consoled herself that time would vindicate her.
Yes, time would reveal the truth.
Finally, Amy's efforts earned recognition when she was selected as "Best Newcomer," with a three-minute speaking slot at the annual awards ceremony. But as she prepared backstage, the event coordinator approached with an apologetic look: "Sorry, Amy. We just received instructions that your speech will be given by Miss Cindy Grant instead. This is... your family's decision."
Amy stood frozen in the shadows, wearing the dress she'd carefully chosen, watching Cindy glide onto the stage in an even more spectacular gown. Under the spotlight, Cindy delivered a polished, touching speech thanking the company and "the Grant family who gave me a second life," earning thunderous applause.
After the ceremony, Charles found Amy sitting numbly backstage.
"Don't take it so hard," he said lamely. "Honestly, Cindy's speech was very professional and reflected well on both the family and company, didn't it?"
He didn't even try to fabricate an excuse this time.
The final blow came from a conversation Amy accidentally overheard.
At the post-ceremony celebration, exhausted Amy decided to leave early. As she passed a half-open door, she heard Cindy and several colleagues laughing inside.
Cindy's voice wasn't the gentle, sweet tone she usually used—it dripped with malicious satisfaction.
"...You should have seen her face backstage. She looked like someone had died—it was hilarious!" Cindy's voice rang out.
"Well, nobody really cares about her," another girl added. "Just a charity case acting like she's royalty."
"Exactly! And Charles is totally into you now. He told me privately that Amy is exhausting to be around. She's useless for his career. He finds you so much more refreshing—both sweet and competent."
"Oh, stop..." Cindy cooed, though her tone was boastful. "But Charles did say whenever he sees Amy's bitter, resentful face now, he just gets irritated."
Amy stood frozen outside the door. Their venomous words cut through her like poison-tipped daggers.
After that celebration dripping with hypocrisy and malice, Amy finally accepted that her suspicions were justified. Charles's heart was no longer hers. But her last shred of self-respect demanded concrete evidence—proof that would shatter her foolish fantasies once and for all.
Like a ghost, she wandered the estate in the dead of night. Some mysterious force guided her to the private garden at the back of the property.
The pavilion there had been where she and Charles had their first date—their secret hideaway.
Before she could approach, two intertwined figures came into view.
Moonlight spilled across them, clearly outlining their silhouettes. The tall, handsome man and the petite, delicate woman. Charles held Cindy's face in his hands with tender focus. Cindy tilted her head upward, eyes closed, receiving his kiss.
This was no brotherly peck.
This was a passionate, possessive kiss between lovers.
Amy's blood turned to ice, her limbs numb. The world collapsed around her, all sound fading except for the thundering of her heart. How many times had she dreamed of kissing Charles under the moonlight? Never had she imagined someone else in her place.
Somehow she forced herself forward, her feet feeling like lead weights.
"Charles."
Her voice was barely audible, yet it crashed like thunder upon the kissing couple.
Charles spun around, and when he saw Amy, tenderness instantly gave way to panic and irritation. He instinctively stepped back from Cindy, but she clung tighter to him, gripping his sleeve like a frightened doe, peering at Amy with tear-filled eyes.
"Amy... what are you doing here?" Charles's voice cracked.
Amy stared at him—at his protective stance shielding Cindy—and her heart constricted so painfully she could barely breathe. All her accusations and anger dissolved into a hollow question: "Why shouldn't I be here?"
She shifted her gaze to Cindy cowering behind him. "And you? Weren't you two 'just like siblings'?"
Cindy bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks. She peeked from behind Charles, her voice sweet yet venomous: "I'm sorry, sister... we... we couldn't help ourselves..." She glanced up at Charles with tearful eyes, then back at Amy with barely concealed triumph. "But sister, you have everything else. Surely you can spare this one thing?"
Sister.
The word dripped with condescension, as if Amy's pain was merely the tantrum of a spoiled rich girl.
Amy trembled with rage. She turned to Charles—the man she'd loved her entire youth—and made one final, desperate plea: "Charles! What about you? Is that what you think too?"
Charles avoided her eyes, his face contorted with what looked like inner conflict but what Amy now recognized as impatience. He took a deep breath and delivered the final blow.
"Amy, you have everything—the Grant name, your grandfather's love, all those shares... Cindy has nothing. She's been alone her whole life. Can't you just let her have this one thing?"
Let her have this?
Let her have her own fiancé?
Let her take everything that belonged to Amy?
Amy smiled—a cold, empty smile—and said nothing more. She gave them one last look, turned, and walked away without looking back.
