Eight years ago, my mom was dying of late-stage cancer. My dad, Mark Collins, wouldn't spend a dime, just let her waste away, waiting to die. Eight years later, we ran into each other at the hospital. His face twisted with disgust: "If you're going to die, do it somewhere else. Don't drag the Collins name into anything!" Pretty soon, he'd be on his knees, begging me to help his company. I shoved him away: "Mark Collins, the day you started keeping a mistress on the side, you stopped being my father!" 1 I had just walked out of the OB/GYN clinic, report and prescription in hand, when a soft female voice called out: "Maya, is that you?" I didn't turn around. Just hearing that voice made disgust churn in my stomach. I quickened my pace. "Maya! Brenda's talking to you. Where are your manners?" It was my biological father, Mark Collins. I took a deep breath and turned. Mark had one arm linked with Brenda's, the other holding her expensive-looking designer handbag. Dressed impeccably, looking utterly devoted. A world away from the cold-blooded man who offered nothing when my mother was gravely ill, letting her wither away alone in a hospital bed. He was like a completely different person. I forced a smile. "My name is Maya Stern. And since I had a mom but no dad to raise me, isn't it normal to have bad manners?" "You!" Mark glared, taking a step forward like he was about to teach me a lesson. "Mark, honey, let it go. It's so nice to run into Maya, don't ruin the day." Brenda pulled Mark back, her voice syrupy sweet. Then she turned to me, smiling. "Maya, dear, what are you doing here? This place... isn't your boyfriend with you?" Ostensibly making peace, secretly fanning the flames. After all these years, Brenda hadn't changed a bit. Mark caught the implication in her tone, his gaze sharpening as he looked at me. I held up the report, opened my mouth, and nonchalantly dropped a bomb: "Accidentally pregnant. The dad doesn't want it. Came to arrange the termination." Mark raised his hand, ready to slap me. "You tramp! You've dragged the Collins family name through the mud!" I shot back: "Ha! Look who's talking!" "When you were cheating on Mom with her," I gestured towards Brenda, "were you worried about the family name then?" "What's this, an old married couple visiting the OB/GYN? Trying for another kid?" Brenda put on her usual wounded expression, still playing the frail victim as she intervened: "Oh, Mark, kids grow up, they have their own lives..." "Your blood pressure, remember? You need to think about Lindsey and Alex!" Mark finally snorted, dropped his hand, and glared at me, spitting out harsh words: "Maya, I'm washing my hands of you! If you're going to crash and burn, do it far away from the Collins family!" I was about to retort when a warm hand gently rested on my shoulder. A calm voice, gentle yet firm, flowed like cool water into the undignified chaos: "Just a little argument, why would you say I don't want this child?" 2 I looked up and saw the impeccably handsome, distinguished face of my boss, Julian Thorne. If Mark's rage and Brenda's fake concern made me want to laugh out loud, the uncharacteristic tenderness in Julian's eyes sent a chill down my spine. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Julian glanced at Mark and Brenda and asked, "And these two are?" Julian was tall, impeccably dressed, with an undeniable air of authority. Everything about him screamed that he was not an ordinary person. Brenda, ever the opportunist, tugged at Mark's sleeve and offered Julian a practiced smile. "We're Maya's parents. You must be... her boyfriend?" Julian gave a slight nod and stepped forward, extending his hand to Mark. "Julian Thorne." Mark Collins had carved out a decent niche for himself in the city's business circles. Hearing Julian Thorne's name, his cautious scrutiny instantly turned into delighted surprise. He eagerly shook Julian's hand. "The name certainly rings a bell! A pleasure, a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thorne! I'm Mark Collins, of Collins Industries." Julian retracted his hand and asked with concern, "What were you saying to Maya just now?" Mark chuckled awkwardly. "Just tough love, you know how it is with daughters. A misunderstanding. Heat of the moment!" Julian nodded, then put an arm around my shoulders, preparing to lead me away. "We have some things to attend to. We'll see you around." Mark hurried after us, his thick fingers gripping my wrist. His eyes practically overflowed with fatherly affection. "Maya, don't be mad at Dad. No hard feelings between father and daughter, right?" "Dad's birthday party is this weekend. Bring your boyfriend and come early, okay?" Julian remained noncommittal, looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for my decision. Although I had no idea what had gotten into the big boss today, my fear was mixed with a surge of confidence. Clothes make the man, as they say. And today, facing my deadbeat dad, I might as well lean on the imposing presence of Julian Thorne. I pretended to consider it, then said hesitantly, "I'm not sure yet... depends on Julian's schedule." Mark nodded understandingly, urging us gently, "Come if you can, come if you can." The pressure on my wrist clearly signaled that I had to bring this important connection to the party. I nodded, took Julian's arm, and turned to leave. Once we reached the parking garage, Julian abruptly dropped my hand. "Ms. Stern, your family drama is quite something." "Eh, it's nothing special. Thanks to Mr. Thorne for stepping in and playing the part!" I bowed slightly, opened the car door for him like a chauffeur, then hurried around to the passenger seat. Mike, the driver, handed me a bottle of water as he started the car. "Took you a while in there, Ms. Stern," he asked kindly. "Everything okay? You should take your medicine." If he hadn't mentioned it, I'd almost forgotten why I was at the hospital in the first place. The adrenaline rush from the confrontation had made the cramps that tormented me all afternoon vanish. Now that he reminded me, sharp pain began radiating from my lower abdomen again. I tipped my head back, swallowed the pills, and leaned back in the seat, trying the sleep-it-off method. When the driver woke me, the car was parked outside my apartment building. Streetlights were just beginning to glow outside. Dazed, I unbuckled my seatbelt and patted Mike's shoulder. "You're a good guy, Mike. Thanks for waiting. Must've been here a while." Mike subtly gestured towards the back seat. Only then did I realize Julian was still in the car. Julian was wearing wire-rimmed glasses, reading a document. As I looked back, he raised his head, meeting my gaze. Elegance and refinement hit me all at once, seeming to heal the hurts I'd endured earlier. For the first time, I felt that good looks weren't just appealing; they could actually ease pain. It all felt too good to be true. I almost suspected my usually harsh boss, the one who frequently chewed me out, had been replaced by an imposter. Thinking about all his kind gestures today, I felt genuinely grateful. "Mr. Thorne, thank you for today." Julian casually looked away. "Don't mention it." Then, in the same flat tone he used for reading reports, he recited: "Accidental pregnancy, termination, 'our Julian'." Mike's eyes, fixed straight ahead, seemed to burn with the heat of someone eagerly listening to gossip. I stammered, trying to explain, but a faint smile touched Julian's lips. "Maya, the reputational damage you've caused will be deducted from this month's salary." "Mike, let's go." I stood there in the cold wind, watching the understated Rolls-Royce drive away from my modest neighborhood, crying invisible tears. His kindness was all an act. Damn capitalists. 3 Standing under the shower spray, I looked at the crisscrossed scars on my palms, long since healed, and thought about Mark Collins' invitation. Normally, I wouldn't go. But this time... I turned the handle, and warm water cascaded down like heavy rain. My mom got sick right after she found out Mark was cheating on her. She forced smiles every day, but her body truthfully sounded the alarm. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, Mark didn't care at all. He never came home once. Let alone visit her in the hospital. Less than three months after Mom died, Mark brazenly brought Brenda and her daughter home. Along with the seven-month fetus Brenda was carrying. Back then, A picture of our family of three still sat on my desk – Mom and Dad holding me, smiling warmly. But Mark ordered me to call Brenda "Mom." Brenda, even then, played the gentle, understanding role, stepping between Mark and me. "The child can't accept it right away, Mark. It's too soon to say these things." Then she looked at me, softly stroking my face. "Maya, just call me Aunt Brenda for now." I was already a junior in high school by then. I wasn't stupid. The moment I saw Lindsey standing behind Brenda, I understood everything. Since freshman year, everyone in our grade buzzed about it: there were two 'belles' in our year. One was Maya Collins in the science track, the other was Lindsey in the arts program. Even stranger, the two girls looked remarkably similar. The only differences were that Maya was taller, had cooler-toned pale skin, a higher nose bridge, and a more reserved air. Lindsey, on the other hand, looked like a girl raised on sugar and spice. Her wide, doe-like eyes seemed innocent above her petite nose. Her clothes, her mannerisms – everything about her radiated a sweet, apple-cheeked charm. If it hadn't been for Lindsey and her friends constantly targeting me for no apparent reason, I would have just found it amusing. Seeing her stand behind Brenda that day, a triumphant smirk on her face, it all clicked. All the similarities weren't some coincidence. It was because Mark Collins, that animal, had secretly maintained another "family" throughout his entire marriage to my mother. I finally understood why Mark was always "away on business trips" every few weeks. Finally understood why Mark never showed up for my parent-teacher conferences. Finally understood why, when Mom was dying of late-stage breast cancer, Mark not only didn't visit but claimed he had no money. He clearly owned a factory, lived in a mansion, drove a luxury car. But he said he had no time, no money. Mark Collins, the boy from a poor background, chosen by my mother for his sharp mind and charming wit, had never forgotten his life goals: Be a rich man, find a gentle wife, have a son. The last two desires couldn't be fulfilled with my mother, who came from a family of respected professionals. But he could leverage my grandparents' connections to climb the ladder in the business world. From the beginning, my mother hadn't found a good match, but a wolf in sheep's clothing. And I wasn't some product of love; I was just a mongrel carrying half of Mark Collins' filthy blood. I flipped the table. Dishes, cups, everything crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces around our feet. Mark slapped me with all his might, then immediately turned to check if Brenda and Lindsey were hurt. The impact knocked me to the ground. My hands landed on the shards, pain shooting through me. My left ear was ringing. I heard my sixteen-year-old self hiss through gritted teeth, "Mark Collins, you bastard, you'll rot in hell!"... Julian Thorne's face floated into my mind. A risky plan began to form. I wiped my face, my eyes snapping open. Mark Collins, this time, I will make you pay. 4 After the morning meeting, I deliberately slowed down, packing my things, waiting for everyone else to leave so I could talk to Julian. Normally, I would never be this bold. But this was a golden opportunity, practically heaven-sent. If Julian agreed, I'd willingly work for him for free for 10 years. As I was dawdling, Ms. Evans, his executive assistant, walked over to me, smiling pleasantly. "Ms. Stern, Mr. Thorne would like to see you." Slightly confused, I followed her, mentally reviewing my work from the past few days, wondering if I'd messed something up. Or had Julian, that sly fox, already guessed my audacious thoughts? I stood somewhat nervously in the vast office suite. Julian gestured for Ms. Evans to leave. Then he stood up, sipping his coffee, and handed me a thick file. "Information on Collins Industries. You should probably be familiar with it." I flipped through the pages. It contained detailed information about Mark Collins' company: business scope, scale, recent projects, history, even clear summaries of its finances and debts. I had indeed kept tabs on these things privately, but nowhere near this level of detail. Julian walked to the window, looking down at the glass-and-steel cityscape. "Apex Tech has recently approached Collins Industries about a new partnership. What are your thoughts?" I answered formally, "Although Apex isn't huge, they have strong momentum and are potential competitors for our new project. If Collins and Apex team up..." Julian turned around, nodding in approval. "Of course, that's from a business perspective." "Privately," Julian gave a faint smile, opened a drawer, and took out an exquisite velvet box. "Since Ms. Stern has already announced we have a... child?" I quickly stood up, waving my hands. "Mr. Thorne, you can't pin that entirely on me! You were the one who stepped up and claimed it!" Julian chuckled softly, his voice smooth like aged wine. "As it happens, I have a small inconvenience of my own. Perhaps Ms. Stern could help me out?" With that, Julian opened the deep blue velvet box and placed it in my hand. It was the first time in my life I'd seen one of those ridiculously large diamond rings from magazines in person. Under the sunlight, it glittered blindingly before me. "Mr. Thorne, this...?" Julian returned to his chair, sitting formally, put his glasses back on, and resumed his commanding tone: "You're coming with me after work." "Things happened quickly, so use this for now." "If you lose it, it comes out of your salary." 5 And so, at six o'clock that evening, still dressed in my work clothes, I found myself accompanying Julian to an upscale resort nestled by a lake in the hills outside the city. Rich people really are different; even their matchmaking venues are this fancy. I habitually followed a step behind Julian. After a short walk, he stopped and frowned at me. I immediately understood. "Mr. Thorne, any instructions?" Julian took my oversized shoulder bag from me, told me to loop my arm through his, and muttered, "What on earth do you carry in here? It weighs a ton." I listed the contents matter-of-factly: "Laptop, files, water bottle..." Julian cut me off, looking exasperated. "Alright. Is the ring on?" I quickly flashed my right hand. Julian nodded, satisfied. A waiter led us towards a pavilion by the water. A slender, ethereal woman, looking like a fairy, was leaning back in her chair, gazing at the scenery. Facing us was another woman, slightly rounder and shorter. Seeing us approach, she gently tapped the fairy-like woman's arm. The fairy turned with the grace of a swan extending its elegant neck. The moment she saw me, the sophisticated smile on her face froze, like it was still loading. "You must be Miss Song?" Julian politely extended his hand. Though clearly displeased, Olivia Song managed a brief, handshake. Olivia Song sized me up. The woman beside her spoke first, "Mr. Thorne, do you always bring your secretary on blind dates?" Julian pulled out a chair for me, gallantly helped me sit down, then took his own seat, smiling and shaking his head. "Not my secretary." He then took my hand, gently stroking it, revealing the blindingly large diamond ring. "Her name is Maya Stern. She's a department manager at my company. Hardworking, smart, beautiful inside and out. I knew I wanted her the day she joined the company." Even though I knew Julian was just putting on an act, hearing him praise me like that for the first time still made me secretly pleased. Olivia Song's face turned thunderous. She grabbed her coat, shot up from her chair, and delivered her first and last words of the evening: "Julian Thorne, your family is unbelievable! You're already involved with your subordinate, and you still show up for a setup like this?!" Then she stalked off on her long legs, leaving us with her furious back. The other woman, equally indignant, threw out a "This is outrageous!" and hurried after her. That went smoothly, I thought admiringly. Leave it to the ruthless capitalist, no messing around. Seeing the mission accomplished, I asked Julian, "Mr. Thorne, they're gone now. Should we perhaps...?" Julian, however, took the menu from the waiter and began studying it seriously. "We're already here. Might as well eat before we leave." 6 It's Saturday afternoon, 5 PM. I'm in Julian Thorne's massive downtown penthouse apartment, being fussed over head-to-toe by a styling team. This all started because of a comment he made during that dinner: "Maya, watching you eat is surprisingly relaxing." "I think I'd like to do it again." "I'll go with you to the Collins Industries party on Saturday." Lord have mercy. While I, navigating the corporate world alone, don't have many airs and graces, being told my eating habits are "relaxing" by a man who seems to float above the mortal realm made the lobster I was eating a little hard to swallow. But regardless, Julian had offered this opportunity before I even had to ask. I secretly marveled that sometimes, fate actually treated me like a favorite grandchild. Once the primping was done, looking at the elegant beauty in the mirror, I felt a little more grounded. Dressed to the nines, as they say. Today, Maya Stern was ready to shine. Holding my skirt carefully, I got into the waiting Rolls-Royce. Mike, the driver, saw me, and his eyes lit up: "Ms. Stern, you look incredible today! Really... uh... glamorous!" The smile that had just bloomed on my face froze slightly. Master and servant, both blessed with such silver tongues. The car glided towards the Grand Lexington Hotel. Mike explained, "Mr. Thorne had a few things to wrap up. He asked me to bring you here first." I nodded in understanding. I looked down at the massive diamond ring on my hand. I had taken it off that night, carefully wrapped it, and tried to return it to Julian. He'd waved it off dismissively. "It's just sitting around anyway. You might as well wear it for now. Good for keeping up appearances." I asked worriedly, "Mr. Thorne, what if..." Julian's expression turned serious. "Then you pay for it, market value." I touched the ring, shifted slightly in the back seat to ease my posture, and mentally reviewed the information on Collins Industries. Julian wanting to intervene in the Collins and Apex deal was a certainty. But he had also given me detailed files on Collins Industries' debts and questionable projects. Julian never did anything without a reason. If I wasn't mistaken, Julian meant exactly what I thought he meant. I closed my eyes for a moment. Mark Collins, this time, I absolutely will not let you get away with it.
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