Chapter 2

I could hardly believe the audacity.

"Aunt Brenda, have you had too much to drink?"

"It’s my property. Why on earth would I hand it over to Sarah?"

Aunt Brenda’s face instantly darkened.

"Watch your attitude, young lady!"

"We’re family! What’s wrong with helping each other out?"

"Besides, it’s just sitting there empty. What’s the harm in letting Sarah use it for a few years? It’s not like she’s going to break it!"

Sarah chimed in beside her, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm.

"Right? Don't be so selfish, Chloe."

"Don't worry, Kevin is a generous man. We’re not going to take advantage of you."

"He said he'll pay you fifty bucks a month in rent. Honestly, that's practically charity on our part!"

I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.

"Fifty bucks? That wouldn't even cover the building's trash fee!"

"Let me make this crystal clear: I am not renting it to you, and I am definitely not lending it to you."

"If you need a venue, buy one yourself. Keep your hands off my property."

With that, I grabbed my bag and stood up.

Seeing that I wasn't backing down, Kevin’s face twisted in anger.

"Chloe, don't push your luck!"

"Offering you fifty bucks for that place was doing you a massive favor!"

"Do you have any idea who I am? One word from me, and I can make sure you never find work in this city again!"

I stared back at him with pure disdain.

"Oh, really? I'd love to see you try."

"Don't flatter yourself just because you landed some mid-level title. You’re a nobody."

I turned back to Aunt Brenda.

"Don't ever invite me to one of these gatherings again."

Leaving their outraged shouts behind the closed door, I walked straight out of the restaurant without looking back.

Stepping outside, I took a deep breath of the cool air.

Spending even another second around those toxic, entitled freeloaders felt like psychic damage.

I thought I’d made myself abundantly clear, and that they’d finally back off.

Turns out, I severely underestimated just how shameless and depraved these people could be.

Three days later.

I was in the middle of an executive board meeting at our corporate headquarters.

Suddenly, my private phone began buzzing relentlessly on the table.

The caller ID displayed the building manager of my downtown luxury complex.

That residence was the most exclusive, high-end gated community in the city, protected by elite private security. Without a resident's explicit clearance, not even a fly could get past the gates.

My stomach dropped, and I answered the call.

On the other end of the line, the manager’s voice was practically shaking with terror.

"M-Ms. Vance! Something terrible has happened!"

"A group of people just forced their way in—they broke your locks and barged right into your penthouse!"

I slammed my pen onto the table and shot up from my seat.

The entire boardroom of executives flinched in shock, instantly freezing into dead silence.

"They did what?!"

"What on earth is building security doing?! Can't you guys even guard a front door?!"

The building manager sounded on the verge of tears.

"Ms. Vance, I swear it's not our fault!"

"A whole mob showed up earlier claiming they were your family, insisting you promised them the penthouse for their wedding."

"When the guards stopped them, they caused a massive scene at the gate. An older woman even threw herself on the ground, pretending to have a heart attack!"

"We were terrified someone was going to die right outside our gates, so we had to let them in first."

"How could we have known that as soon as they went up, they’d call an emergency locksmith to completely dismantle your reinforced front door?!"

I was trembling with fury, my eyes turning to ice.

"I’m on my way right now!"

"Have your chief of security lock down that entire building immediately. Don't let a single soul slip out!"

I hung up and sprinted out of the boardroom.

Seeing this, my executive assistant, Ryan, scrambled after me.

"Ms. Vance, should I call the police?"

I said coldly, "Not yet. I'm going to see for myself just how suicidal they really are!"

Half an hour later, my Maybach pulled up to the curb.

The building manager, flanked by a dozen fully geared-up security guards, was waiting downstairs, practically shaking in his boots.

The second he saw me, he looked ready to drop to his knees.

"Ms. Vance! Thank God you're here!"

"They're still up there right now, and they've even hauled in tons of their cheap, beat-up furniture!"

I didn't spare him another glance and walked straight toward the private elevator.

When the elevator reached the top floor and the doors slid open, what I saw sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.