During summer break, I interned at a top law firm, mentored by an industry legend. He had just won a major case. At the celebration party, however, he tore into me for a single punctuation mark in my report, leaving me utterly humiliated. I hid in the restroom, quietly crying, when I overheard him on the phone: “If I don’t treat her harshly, my dad will actually marry her and make her my stepmother.” 01 My hand, holding a tissue, trembled violently. For months, I had been working like a maniac, staying up late, meticulously refining every case. My internship output rivaled that of a permanent employee, all to prove I deserved this job. But now, I was being misunderstood by the very person I idolized. I splashed cold water on my face, forcing myself to calm down. As I stepped out of the restroom, I ran straight into Aditya Pemberton. The moment he saw me, his eyes instantly hardened with disgust and contempt. I took a deep breath, suppressing my emotions. “Mr. Pemberton, regarding the citation format in this morning’s report, I followed the standard template. If you believe I made a mistake, I’d like to inquire about the specific guidelines.” He scoffed. “Mina Miller, Pemberton & Co. is not where we teach you literacy. If you can’t even reflect on these basics, and require me to hold your hand, you should consider dropping out of law school.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for several passing colleagues to hear. With that, he walked directly to my workstation. Before I could react, he slammed a stack of dusty, decades-old case files, almost waist-high, heavily onto my desk. The force was so great that the top few files scattered across the floor, raising a cloud of dust. “Digitize and index all of these before nine tomorrow morning.” The loud “thud” and scattered documents drew the attention of the entire office. This was manual labor even the lowest-tier administrative assistants disdained. My colleagues looked on with complex emotions; some sympathy, but mostly schadenfreude and indifferent amusement. I knelt, silently picking up the scattered files. Fiona Vance walked over, perfectly timed, carrying a cup of coffee. “Mina, Mr. Pemberton is strict with everyone, don’t take it to heart.” Her voice was delicate, but her words were barbed. “Oh, everyone’s actually wondering, if you… used some special connections to get into Pemberton & Co.? After all, it’s the first time Mr. Pemberton has personally mentored an intern.” Her words were like honeyed poison, implying that I was here not because of ability, but some shady connection. I ignored her, gathered the files, and buried myself in the tedious work. Late at night, the entire floor was empty save for me and the mound of musty case files. My phone screen lit up; it was Henry Pemberton calling. “Mina, are you settling in at Pemberton & Co.? Aditya can be a bit stiff; he hasn’t made things too difficult for you, has he?” Mr. Pemberton’s voice was as warm and concerned as ever. I forced a smile. “Uncle, everything’s fine. Mr. Pemberton is demanding, but I’ve learned a lot of practical things.” “That’s good. Your mother’s gone, and I promised her I’d look after you. If anything bothers you, remember to tell your uncle.” “Of course, Uncle. You should get some rest.” As I hung up, tears finally streamed down uncontrollably. Henry Pemberton was my mother’s college classmate. Over the years, he had looked after our family like a guardian. After my mother’s passing, he even took on the responsibility of my legal guardian. “Truly a devoted father and filial daughter, profoundly touching.” Aditya Pemberton’s voice suddenly came from behind me. I spun around, startled. He had appeared behind me at some point. “Mr. Pemberton.” I hastily wiped away my tears. “Don’t call me Mr. Pemberton. Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘Aditya’?” He stepped closer, his voice laced with sarcasm. “After all, your meticulous schemes are all just to become my stepmother, to legitimately take over the Pemberton family, aren’t they?” I clenched my jaw, my voice hoarse. “You misunderstand, I never…” “Misunderstand?” He suddenly lunged closer, snatching my phone. Seeing the name “Uncle Henry” in my call history, he scoffed. “Dare you say you didn’t join Pemberton & Co. to get closer to my father? Dare you say you’re enduring this quietly now, not to play the role of a diligent, aspiring underdog, supposedly bullied by me, in front of my father?” “Or are you trying to exploit your mother’s past connection with him, to cling to the Pemberton family like a parasite, sucking them dry for life?” My eyes instantly reddened, the immense humiliation almost making me lose my footing. He wasn’t just insulting me; he was trampling on my mother’s memory. “I didn’t! I just want to complete my internship properly, to work diligently!” “Properly intern?” He laughed as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “Then explain why my father would make an exception to arrange this position for you? Why he’s warned me time and again to ‘look after’ you? Why the way he looks at you goes far beyond a mere concern for an old friend’s daughter?” I opened my mouth, but found myself speechless, unable to explain Uncle Henry’s motivations. “Can’t explain it?” His voice grew colder. He suddenly reached out, grabbing the legal opinion memo on my desk— the one I had stayed up two nights revising— And tore it into shreds right in front of me. “Mina Miller, let me tell you, no matter what despicable methods you use, I will not let you succeed.” “You want to be my stepmother, Aditya Pemberton’s stepmother? A woman as manipulative and deceitful as you, isn’t fit to be a servant in my household.” The paper fragments scattered like snowflakes on the floor, utterly shattering my last shred of self-respect. “Oh, and about those files, if they’re not done by the time I arrive tomorrow morning, you’re out of Pemberton & Co. immediately.” With that, he turned and left without looking back. 02 It was three in the morning, and the stack of old case files on my desk was like a mountain. These weren’t ordinary files; they were from the Hayes Group case, a case as complex as an inescapable labyrinth. I flipped through the yellowed documents page by page, my eyelids heavy, threatening to close. Suddenly, a file marked "Closed" made me stop. The timeline of the key evidence had a clear loophole, a fatal flaw that could overturn the original verdict. I grew more and more excited as I read, my heart pounding. If my deductions were correct, it could shake the entire legal world, and force the original winning party to pay massive damages. I stayed up all night writing a detailed analysis report, each word filled with passion, clearly articulated. The next morning, with an almost reverent feeling, I knocked on Aditya Pemberton’s office door. He was the firm’s ace; only through him could I have a chance. “Mr. Pemberton, I have an important discovery.” He didn’t look up, reviewing a document. “What is it?” I handed him the report. “ This is a re-analysis of the Hayes Group case. I’ve found a critical loophole in the evidence that could overturn the verdict.” He finally looked up, his eyes cold. He took the report, merely glancing at the cover, a smile I couldn’t decipher playing on his lips. Then, right in front of me, he tore the report page by page, tossing it into the trash can. “Mina Miller,” his voice was devoid of warmth, “Your father’s failure back then was due to his incompetence. And you, as his daughter, seem to have inherited that same overestimation of self.” I froze. How did he know…? “An intern should act like an intern. Your job is to make coffee and photocopy, don’t keep dreaming of shortcuts, especially don’t touch cases you’re not qualified to touch.” His words were like poison-tipped ice shards, chilling me to the bone. Not only was I rejected, but my deepest wound was exposed. I dragged my heavy feet back to my workstation, the flicker of hope in my heart completely extinguished. In the afternoon, the firm held a senior partner meeting. I sat in the corner, responsible for taking minutes. Aditya Pemberton stood in the center of the conference room; under the spotlight, he was in high spirits. “Ladies and gentlemen, regarding the Hayes Group case from three years ago, I recently made a groundbreaking discovery.” My hand trembled violently. “Through extremely complex cross-referencing, I found a loophole in the timeline of the critical evidence at the time. This means the entire basis of the case’s judgment was flawed.” Every word he said, every data point, was exactly the same as in my report. He even claimed my report’s logical deductions were the result of his “sleepless months of work.” Thunderous applause erupted in the conference room. “Mr. Pemberton is truly a beacon in the legal world!” “A formidable talent! To unearth new opportunities in such a long-closed case!” I sat there, my blood running cold. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh, the taste of blood filling my mouth. But I couldn’t stand up, because I knew, Here, Aditya Pemberton’s words were truth, And I, Mina Miller, was merely a backdrop. After the meeting, I fought back my breakdown and returned to my workstation. Fiona Vance walked over with a cup of coffee. “ Mina, Mr. Pemberton’s presentation was truly brilliant. You must have learned so much by his side.” Her tone was full of boastfulness. I ignored her, lowering my head to organize the sole original piece of evidence for tomorrow’s court appearance. “Oops!” The scalding coffee splashed precisely onto the hand holding the evidence. The piercing pain made me drop it instantly, and that crucial original bank statement, was completely soaked in dark brown liquid, the key information blurred. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Fiona shrieked in feigned panic, but her eyes sparkled with triumph. The court appearance was tomorrow; this was the client’s only chance for a turnaround. “Mina, your hand is covered in blisters, hurry to the hospital!” “No need.” I gritted my teeth, looking at the destroyed original, my heart filled with despair. The next day, in court. Because the critical evidence was damaged, combined with the intense burning pain in my hand, my statements were illogical and I frequently stumbled. The opposing lawyer pressed relentlessly, and the judge’s face grew increasingly displeased. In the gallery, Aditya Pemberton, in front of everyone, harshly reprimanded: “Mina Miller! Pemberton & Co. does not harbor incompetence! If you can’t even manage basic evidence safekeeping, how can you expect the client to trust you?” He paused, his gaze sweeping the room, his voice filled with contempt and insinuation: “Don’t you know how you got into Pemberton & Co., yourself? Don’t think you can make it in the legal world just by relying on a bit of charm!” His words were like a public slap in the face, confirming the rumors within the firm about me “using connections to get ahead.” My face burned crimson, the shame and anger made me wish I could die on the spot. 03 The next day was Henry Pemberton’s birthday. He called me personally. “Mina, you must come this time. You are my most important family.” His voice held an undeniable firmness, and a touch of warmth I had longed for. I agreed, filled with anticipation. I dug out an antique fountain pen my father used when he was young. It wasn’t expensive, but it held our shared memories. I thought, this is the kind of gift “family” should exchange. In the banquet hall, I wore a simple white dress, looking out of place amidst the glittering opulence. As soon as I stepped in, I saw Fiona Vance, the center of attention. She wore a custom-made champagne-colored gown, surrounded by a circle of admirers around Henry Pemberton. “Uncle Henry, this is a limited edition Patek Philippe I specially chose for you.” Fiona presented the gift box with both hands, the diamonds almost blinding me. A chorus of compliments rose, everyone praising her filial piety and thoughtfulness. Henry Pemberton beamed, taking the watch and putting it on immediately, rubbing it repeatedly: “Fiona, you’re too extravagant, but Uncle loves it.” I clutched my simple little gift box, my nails digging into my palm. In front of a million-dollar watch, my heartfelt gesture seemed so pathetic. I forced myself to walk over. “Uncle, happy birthday.” He took it, opening it in front of everyone. Seeing the old fountain pen, his brow visibly furrowed. “This is… a pen my father used to use.” I tried to explain. “Pfft.” Fiona couldn’t help but chuckle. She stepped closer, feigning surprise as she picked up the pen, showing it to those around us. “Oh my, Mina, is this pen an archaeological find? It’s so rusty. Uncle Henry’s big birthday, and you give him this?” Undisguised laughter erupted from the crowd. “Giving junk as a gift?” “Is she here to gross out Mr. Pemberton?” Henry Pemberton’s face completely darkened. Just as he was about to say something, Fiona “accidentally” dropped the pen. With a “clink,” the old pen fell onto the polished marble floor. The ink sac seemed to have cracked, a tiny bit of dried ink seeping out. My heart shattered along with it. “Uncle Henry, I’m so sorry, my hand slipped.” Fiona apologized without sincerity. Henry Pemberton didn’t even glance at the pen on the floor, saying coldly to me: “Mina, go sit down over there for now.” I numbly found a corner and sat down. Henry Pemberton, as if his mood had been spoiled by me, went out with a gloomy face. Just then, Aditya Pemberton went on stage to give a speech. “Thank you all for attending my father’s birthday banquet.” His gaze swept coldly across the room, finally fixing on me. “I also hope my father can always stay clear-headed and not be swayed by some people’s ulterior motives and cheap flattery. After all, not everyone is worthy of being part of my Pemberton family.” Cheap flattery? Not worthy of being family? Every word felt like a public execution. Aditya walked off the stage, holding a glass of red wine, and headed straight for me. I had a premonition of something bad, wanting to get up and avoid him. “Mina, coming to a banquet, why are you dressed so plainly?” He blocked my path, a malicious smile playing on his lips. The next second, he flicked his wrist. “Splash—” A full glass of chilled red wine poured precisely over my head.
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