My sister mocked my « cheap » mourning dress in front of everyone, calling me a disgrace. She had no idea the dress was worth thirty thousand dollars, that I owned the fashion brand she’d modeled for, and that her termination letter had already been signed. That’s when I decided they would all face the consequences.

And that was just the beginning.
As the ceremony drew to a close and the guests made their way to the reception hall, Victoria, with a confident stride, led the way, greeting the condolences like applause. Little did she know that every advertising campaign she’d been a part of, every photoshoot she’d posed for, every lookbook she’d boasted about… would soon be erased from our brand’s future plans.

I waited until she’d walked away with a flute of champagne—completely inappropriate for a funeral, but perfectly « Victoria. »

« Elena, » she said without even looking at me. « Next time, try not to portray the Hale family as a tragedy worthy of a thrift store. »

I inhaled slowly. « Victoria, about your contract… »

« My contract? » She sniffed. « Come on. You don’t know anything about fashion. Stick to your desk job. » « My job in an office? »

« My job in an office? » I repeated with a smile.

Continued on the next page.