They Called Her the Better Version

After two years away, I came home to find my fiancé with another woman on his arm—a woman who looked just like me. They called her the sweeter, kinder version. They whispered that my illness had made me bitter and weak. They're about to learn that the deadliest venom comes from a woman left for dead. 1 I spent two years in a Swiss wellness clinic, supposedly putting myself back together. My first day back in New York, my cousin Zoe threw me a welcome-home party. The guest list was a who’s who of the city’s trust-fund kids, the sons and daughters of the ruling class. It had been a long time. The girls I used to run with, the ones who once mirrored my every move, were unnervingly quiet, their gazes fixed on their champagne flutes. Liam, heir to the Richmond fortune and my half-brother—the kid who used to trail after me, calling me Livvy with a sweet, almost desperate adoration—was now keeping a calculated distance. It was my party, and I, the guest of honor, was a ghost at the feast. A stir at the entrance broke the tension. Ethan Hayes walked in with a woman on his arm, and the quiet room crackled like oil hitting a hot pan. My brother, Liam, was the first on his feet. “Ethan, Sophie, you finally made it.” The same heiresses who had been giving me the silent treatment suddenly sprang to life. “Sophie, over here!” one of them called out. “We saved you a seat!” The woman at the center of the sudden warmth was all radiant smiles and effortless grace. The man beside her, Ethan Hayes, watched her with a tenderness that could melt glaciers. They were a perfect portrait of love. If Ethan weren’t my fiancé, I might have even rooted for them. Zoe, ever the agent of chaos, sidled up to me and whispered, “See her? She’s the replacement they found. And from the looks of it, the understudy’s about to get top billing.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “If you’d stayed away any longer, she’d probably be pregnant by now.” Zoe and I grew up together. My aunt, her mother, was a master of outsourcing parenting, and Zoe spent more of her childhood in our house than her own. My mother never had the heart to say no to her sister, and with a fortune like ours, one more child at the table was hardly a rounding error. Two months ago, Zoe had sent me a picture. In it, Ethan’s arm was wrapped possessively around a young woman who shared a certain shadow of my features. Sophie Miller, I learned, was the recently acknowledged daughter of some new-money family, raised in obscurity somewhere upstate. She only appeared on the New York scene after I left for Switzerland, a constant presence at every gala and charity event. At first, she mirrored my style—the clothes, the hair. People laughed, calling her a cheap imitation. But then they noticed the differences. Where I was sharp edges and biting words, Sophie was all gentle curves and soft-spoken grace. She was, in a word, more likable. And she was a social conductor. She organized river-rafting trips in the summer, fishing retreats in the fall, and ski weekends in Aspen when the first snow fell. Soon, she wasn't just part of the circle; she was the circle. The friends who had once orbited me were now her satellites. Liam, my own brother who had initially sneered at her, now looked at her with the same puppy-dog eyes he once saved for me, finding in her a warmth I’d apparently never offered. Even my fiancé, the untouchable Ethan Hayes, had gone from publicly chastising her for copying me to gazing at her like she was the last good thing in a wicked world. Zoe, my loyal informant, had kept me updated with a relentless stream of details, making it impossible to pretend I didn’t know. “Miss Miller. You look like me?” I asked, my voice cutting through the renewed chatter. Sophie flinched, instinctively shrinking behind Ethan. I let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “You all need to get your eyes checked. Where’s the resemblance?” Tonight, I was in a tailored white cocktail dress. Sophie, too, wore white. Around my neck was a necklace of brilliant, impossibly rare pink diamonds. She wore a string of pink pearls. She was pretty, I’d give her that. But even dressed in the same color, adorned with similar jewels, I couldn’t see it. Our faces shared no lines, no echoes. My question hung in the air, silencing the room once more. The expressions on the faces around me were a complicated mix of pity and annoyance. Sophie was the first to recover, her face pale but her voice steady. “You’re Olivia Richmond,” she said, her tone dripping with false humility. “Your beauty is legendary in this city. How could I ever compare?” A wave of disapproval rippled through the guests, all of them moved by Sophie’s performance of meekness. “Olivia,” Liam started, his voice sharp with accusation. “You can’t control what you’re born with. It’s not Sophie’s fault she happens to look like you. You can’t just attack innocent people because you need to be the only one of everything.” I almost laughed out loud. If I were truly attacking her, none of them would be standing so comfortably. “You idiot,” I said, my words aimed at Liam but my gaze sweeping over every single person in the room. “Don’t you realize I’m insulting you?” A low murmur went through the crowd. “Two years away, and Olivia Richmond’s temper hasn’t improved a bit.” “I used to think they looked alike. But seeing them side-by-side… Olivia looks exhausted. Sophie is glowing.” “Honestly, Olivia’s looks are fine, I guess. But her personality…” My temper was legendary in our circles. My father once tried to lecture me on being more like water—gentle, yielding, life-giving. But water can also be a flood, a destructive force that carves canyons and drowns cities. I’ve always believed it’s better to burn others than to slowly consume yourself. Seeing them all squirm under my gaze, their polite facades cracking, was deeply, profoundly boring. “You call this a welcome-home party?” I said, my voice dripping with disdain. “You all look like you’re at a funeral. But you light up like a Christmas tree for a complete stranger.” I picked up my clutch. “Zoe, thank you for organizing this. In the future, if any of these people are on the guest list, don’t bother inviting me.” I started for the door. As I passed Sophie, her best friend, who was standing beside her, suddenly cried out. She stumbled, and a gift box in her hand tilted, sending a massive white quartz geode sliding out. It crashed onto Sophie’s foot, instantly turning the delicate skin of her instep a blotchy red. In a heartbeat, Ethan’s voice exploded through the room. “Olivia, what the hell are you doing!” he roared. I turned. He was already crouching by Sophie’s side, his face a mask of fury. “Sophie searched everywhere for that geode! She thought it would help purify your energy, that it would be good for your health. If you didn’t want it, you could have just said so! Why did you have to knock it out of her hands?” I had known Ethan Hayes my entire life. We were the textbook definition of childhood sweethearts, if you ignored the complete lack of warmth. He’d always been the untouchable one, a marble statue of a man who held the world at arm’s length. Even on the day he slipped a ring on my finger, his eyes held a distant chill. I had never seen him this incandescently angry. After checking her foot and confirming it wasn’t broken, he straightened up, his eyes blazing at me. “Everyone came here tonight for you, to welcome you home. And what do you do? You insult everyone, you smash a gift, you make a disgusting scene. Two years, and you’re still the same spoiled, vicious brat.” The crack of my handbag hitting his cheek was sharp and satisfying. Ethan fell silent, stunned. He looked at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. A few of the decorative studs from my clutch had come loose, clinging to the shoulder of his jacket like misplaced jewels. “You hit me?” he whispered. Did he need an appointment? “You’re still my fiancé,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “And you defend another woman in front of my face? Did you really think I’d just stand here and accept that?” I’d thought the two years away had mellowed me. The clinic taught me that rage was corrosive to the soul, and to my health. The old Olivia would have been screaming right alongside him, would have thrown the first punch. It seemed they had forgotten who I used to be. They had poked the bear, and now they were shocked it had claws. “Miss Richmond, it was all my fault,” Sophie sobbed, ever the martyr. “I… I didn’t know the gift was so fragile. If I had held it differently, it wouldn’t have broken.” “Of course it was your fault,” I sneered. “You brought a geode to my party. Am I some kind of demon that needs purifying?” Sophie’s tears flowed freely. She was good; she was a beautiful crier. As she covered her face with her hands, I saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards in a tiny, triumphant smirk. It was angled perfectly, a private message just for me. Ethan’s face darkened further. He turned his back on me, pulling Sophie into a comforting embrace. “I never realized how unreasonable you could be,” he spat over his shoulder. My brother pointed a finger at me. “What did Sophie ever do to you? Why do you have to be so cruel?” he seethed. “I’m telling Dad about this tonight. He’ll make you pay for this!” I laughed, a real, genuine laugh. “Go ahead,” I said with a wave of my hand as I turned to leave. “Go tattle. And ‘Sophie’? Since when is any Tom, Dick, or Harry your sister?” I paused at the door and looked back. “Oh, and Ethan? Have you forgotten how our engagement came to be? Your father, dragging you to our door, practically begging for the alliance.” My eyes hardened. “You’re so fond of Sophie. I wouldn't want to stand in your way. I agree to end the engagement. You can explain it to your father yourself.” I might as well burn it all down. I turned to Sophie. “And you,” I said, my voice soft but carrying across the silent room. “Do I look like an idiot to you? I have a temper, but I also have spatial awareness. I was nowhere near your friend when she ‘tripped.’ It was a nice little setup, though. A classic.” I gestured towards a discreet dome on the ceiling. “I’m sure the security camera on the patio caught the whole performance in perfect high-definition.” Liam’s face was sullen, Ethan’s was thunderous, and Sophie’s was a frantic kaleidoscope of red and white. The other guests looked like they’d swallowed sour milk. Their misery was my pleasure. I was used to it; they’d either whisper behind my back or to my face. Did they think I was just going to take it? “You don’t have to run to my father,” I announced to the room. “I’ll do it myself. I’ll make sure every single one of your parents gets a full report on your behavior tonight.” I held up my phone. “After all, there are plenty of cameras here. Your outfits, your makeup, your expressions…” I smiled a sharp, predatory smile. “Every little word you said. It’s all been recorded.” With that, I turned and walked out, not bothering to watch their panicked faces crumble. I almost collided with a man who was just walking in from the garden. A strong hand gripped my arm, steadying me instantly. I looked up into a face that was flawlessly, breathtakingly handsome. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly released me. I wasn’t in the mood for handsome. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped. “Get out of my way.” To my bewilderment, the man’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, the color spreading to the tips of his ears. I frowned. Was he into this? “Liv,” Zoe said weakly from behind me. “Let’s just go together.” She gestured at the man. “Don’t mind him. He likes it when you’re mean to him.” What kind of a weirdo was this? He was gorgeous, but clearly had some strange tastes. There was something familiar about him, though. Seeing my gaze on him, the red-faced man quickly introduced himself. “Miss Richmond. I’m Noah Jensen.” Jensen? A tier-two family. Wealthy, but not in the same stratosphere as the Richmonds or the Hayeses. Before I could respond, Noah shoved a gift box into my hands, turned, and practically fled. I was still confused as I settled into the back of the car. “Noah Jensen? Have I met him before?” Zoe leaned back against the leather seat, tapping at her phone. A crisp, AI-generated voice filled the car. “Noah Jensen. Chief Operating Officer of Jensen Industries, second child of the family patriarch. Current estimated net worth, several billion. If he inherits the primary stake, net worth could exceed twenty billion. Age 22, unmarried, height six-foot-two. Physical dimensions below the waist are unconfirmed, but speculative reports suggest a size comparable to a premium bottled water…” My face burned. “What kind of depraved AI are you using?” I demanded. “You don’t know him? You had to use your AI?” I asked. “Uh, should I? It’s my first time meeting him, too,” Zoe said, all wide-eyed innocence. I gave her a look that said, keep playing dumb. She just shrugged and grabbed the gift box from my lap. “Well, let’s see what he got you.” She tore away the wrapping paper with practiced efficiency. When the box was open, she let out a low whistle. “Whoa.” I followed her gaze. Nestled on a bed of black velvet was a jadeite bangle, the color of the deepest, most vibrant imperial green I had ever seen. It was the kind of piece that rarely even made it to auction. I took it from her, examining the flawless stone. I slid it onto my wrist. It was a perfect fit. “And you say you don’t know him,” Zoe murmured, her eyes wide. “He even knows the exact size of your wrist. And your taste.” I rotated my arm, watching the light play across the bangle’s translucent surface, a slow smile spreading across my face. The party had been a disaster, but this perfect piece of jade was a hell of a consolation prize. Perhaps it was the calming effect of the jade, but I slept soundly that night. I was up early the next day. I’d finished my entire Pilates routine before eight. After dressing, I sent one of my security team to The Gilded Sparrow, the restaurant currently favored by our crowd. I had them set up a screen, six feet tall, right by the entrance. On a continuous loop, it played a beautifully edited video from my party. There was Sophie’s friend taking her dive. There was Ethan’s furious, accusatory shouting. There was Liam’s petulant rage. And there were all the others, their catty whispers now displayed as subtitles, with helpful labels identifying each speaker by name. Passersby, restaurant patrons, and a few enterprising citizens with smartphones uploaded the video to the internet. It went viral in our circles within the hour. The group chats lit up. My name was tagged again and again, dozens of furious messages demanding to know what I thought I was doing. I replied with a single smiling emoji, then left the group. According to the report my assistant compiled, every single one of the young elites featured in my little film was dragged home and raked over the coals by their families. Who gave them the nerve, after all, to openly mock the Richmond heiress? That afternoon, my father summoned me to his study. Liam was already there, standing ramrod straight in front of the coffee table, his head bowed. He shot me a venomous look as I entered. “What are you doing here?” he muttered. I ignored him, walking past to sit beside my father on the sofa. “Dad,” I said, my voice sweet as honey. “What are you so smug about?” Liam spat. “You only get away with this because Grandpa and Dad spoil you rotten. Sophie grew up with nothing, she’s suffered so much, and the second you’re back you start attacking her.” My father patted my hand, then calmly picked up a book from the table and hurled it at Liam. “You stood there and let strangers insult your own sister, and you have the gall to complain? Get out!” he roared. Liam stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I watched the door close. “Father,” I said quietly. “Are you really sure you want him to inherit the company?” My father’s expression was grim. “Your brother is inexperienced. But you shouldn’t have made such a public scene.” He pushed a file across the table towards me. It was a compilation of social media posts and messages from the families involved, all trashing my name. The usual garbage. “These families,” I began, “they all built their fortunes on the scraps we threw them from the Richmond table, didn’t they?” I slid my own prepared file over to him. “A dog that bites is a problem. A dog that bites its master needs to be put down.” My father’s face grew darker with every page he turned. When he finished, he slammed the file down on the table. “These goddamn vultures!” My report detailed, with excruciating precision, how several of those same families had been colluding to sabotage Richmond Corp projects, undercutting us and skimming profits. I picked up my teacup and took a delicate sip. “Father, Liam has had his hands on all of these projects. Do you suppose his… oversights… were intentional or just incompetence?” I put my cup down and refilled his. “It wasn’t that long ago that these people came to us, begging for a lifeline. We gave it to them. And now, they’re trying to sink the ship.” “They’ve clearly gotten too comfortable,” my father growled. “Fine. Let them pay it all back. With interest.” My health had always been fragile, that part was true. But my two-year convalescence in Switzerland was only half the story. No one pays attention to a sick girl who isn’t in line to inherit. While I was ostensibly “recovering,” my team was quietly investigating our international holdings, sniffing out the rot. I never expected the betrayal to run so deep, to originate with the very people we had propped up. My mother died shortly after I was born, a postpartum complication that was never fully explained. Years later, my father had a son, Liam, with Eleanor Ashford. And among the families trying to gut Richmond Corp from the inside was, of course, the Ashfords. That was the part that truly enraged my father. The company was meant to go to Liam one day, yet his mother’s family was already trying to bleed it dry. “The Ashfords have been using Liam’s name to leverage deals for years,” I said softly. “Are you really going to stand by and watch the Richmond legacy get swallowed whole by them?” He understood the logic, I knew he did. But Liam was his only son. He was hesitating. He wasn’t ready to cut him out completely. He closed his eyes. “I need to think. You can go now.” I expected as much. I switched topics, informing him that I had told Ethan I was breaking the engagement. He agreed without a second thought. The Hayes family had publicly humiliated his daughter. I was a Richmond. I didn’t need to marry anyone. I could spend my nights at galas and my days on a yacht if I wanted. A few days later, news of the broken engagement reached the Hayes family. Ethan, predictably, lost his mind. He found me in the garden, having afternoon tea with Zoe. The moment Zoe saw his storm cloud of a face, she made a break for it. “I’ll just… leave you two to talk.” She scurried back towards the house, positioning herself just inside the French doors, not too close but not too far. A perfect vantage point for eavesdropping. Ethan didn’t even notice her. He strode across the lawn and dropped into the chair opposite me. “Olivia. We need to talk.” My mood was excellent, so I decided to ignore his rudeness. I pushed the teapot towards him in a silent offer. He ignored it. “Talk about what?” I asked. “Why did you break our engagement like this?” he demanded, his face tight with anger. “My father is furious with me. Do you have any idea what people are saying?” I leaned back, getting comfortable. “What could they possibly be saying? That I’m arrogant and impossible, and that my fiancé can’t stand me?” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “Or are they talking about how the great Ethan Hayes, despite being engaged to me, spends every waking moment with Sophie Miller?” At the mention of her name, he thought he’d found the root of the problem. “Nothing is going on between Sophie and me,” he said, his voice softening. “She’s just a friend, someone I can talk to. Is your jealousy really worth throwing all of this away?” His expression turned pleading. “Do you have any idea what this has done to her? She was an outcast, she finally found her place in the city, and now because of your tantrum, her family is sending her back upstate.” He shook his head. “Two years, and you’ve only gotten more cruel.” I was genuinely confused. “What does our engagement have to do with Sophie? You just said you two are innocent. So why would our breakup affect her at all?” I let a smirk play on my lips. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re in love with her, Ethan. Stop pretending to be a saint. Besides, I didn’t force her family to do anything. If she’s being sent away, that has nothing to do with me.” He shot to his feet, looming over me, his eyes blazing. “First you release that video, then you break our engagement the very next day! How do you think that makes Sophie look to everyone?” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling with rage. “Olivia, if I had known this is the person you’d become, I never would have saved you from that car crash!” He turned to leave. Ethan Hayes, my savior. Eight years ago, I was in the back of the family car on my way home from school, just like any other day. A truck ran a red light and t-boned us. The world spun, and the car landed upside down. The smell of gasoline was everywhere. The driver and I were both pinned. Blood was running into my eyes, hot and sticky, blurring everything. I heard a man’s voice shouting, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I felt him pull me, then the driver, from the wreckage. Then came the boom, a wave of heat and force that knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, Ethan was sitting by my hospital bed. He told me he had saved me. A life debt, combined with the Hayes family’s standing and Ethan’s own accomplishments, was more than enough to forge an engagement. Our families had been planning the wedding for when I returned from Switzerland. Now, here we were. My voice, when I spoke, was as cold and clear as ice. “Ethan. Was it really you who saved me that day?” I had thought, after all these years, that marrying him was something I could tolerate. But seeing him with Sophie, this cloying, deceptive dance they were doing, was sickening. I wanted out. And now he had the audacity to bring up his heroism. It was time to settle the score. He froze, turning back to look at me as if for the first time. “My eyes were blurred with blood,” I continued, my voice even and calm. “But I wasn’t deaf. The voice of the man who pulled me from that car… it wasn’t yours. And he had a gash on his arm, a deep one, had to be at least six inches long. I felt it when he lifted me.” I stood, facing him directly. “If you hadn’t been the one sitting there when I woke up, if our families weren’t already so intertwined, I would have exposed you years ago.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “If you had come here today just to defend Sophie, I would have let it go. But you had to bring that up.” A cruel smile touched my lips. “Did you really think I was so desperately in love with you, so bound by that life debt, that I would never leave you?” The color drained from his face. He hadn't known that I knew. He hadn't known that my feelings for him were a carefully constructed facade, not the all-consuming passion he imagined. The look in his eyes slowly shifted from anger to a dawning, primal fear. “You say you and Sophie are innocent?” I continued, pulling out my phone. “Then I suppose all of these photos were photoshopped?” I set the phone on the table, a slideshow beginning to play. Last April, Ethan and Sophie embracing under the cherry blossoms at the Botanic Garden. Last July, Ethan and Sophie in the same kayak on a river trip, her body pressed tightly against his back. Last New Year’s Eve, Ethan and Sophie kissing passionately as fireworks exploded in the sky. His face cycled through shades of white and green. He never imagined I would have proof. I smiled. “So, you see, I’ve been very restrained. I haven’t released any of these. You should both be grateful for that.” I picked up my teacup. “Now, get out of my sight. And don’t ever bother me again.” When it came to a war of words, I had yet to lose. Ethan Hayes, who had come to my home to demand an accounting, left looking like a ghost. Zoe only emerged from the house after his car had disappeared down the driveway. She was still clutching a half-eaten scone, her eyes darting to the photos still cycling on my phone. She looked like she was bursting with questions but didn’t dare ask. She couldn’t hold back the most important one, though. “Liv,” she began, her voice hesitant. “Where did you get these? Did you hire a P.I. to tail them?” I sat back down and took a sip of my tea, letting her wait. Finally, I looked at her. “What do you think?” “I… I have no idea. You’re always ten steps ahead of everyone. Do you have someone else here, in the city, watching them for you? You act like you have this crazy temper, but then you pull something like this, and I realize you’ve been playing chess the whole time.” I just smiled at her, a slow, knowing smile.

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