Chapter 4

"Get out! Our company finds your filth disgusting!"

I had just been shoved out of the company building by security when a cup of scalding iced Americano came flying at my face. I dodged, but the bitter coffee splattered against the revolving glass door, soaking my only white work blouse.

Outside the building, chaos reigned. My office belongings were in a broken cardboard box, tossed on the steps, covered in muddy shoe prints. A large, glaring splash of red paint marred the center, making it look like a crime scene.

Chloe stood inside the door, wearing limited-edition high heels. Several interns who usually sucked up to me crowded around her, all holding up their phones, recording me.

"What are you staring at?" Chloe rolled her eyes. "Even your breathing pollutes Smith Group's air."

"Everyone collectively decided to throw you out like trash."

The entire street was packed with onlookers. Contemptuous stares and whispers felt like knives slicing my face.

"She even stole the company's lifeblood, why isn't she dead yet?"

"I heard she used to get poverty subsidies from the company. Pure ingrate!"

I ignored the voices. I knelt, searching through the rubbish on the ground. I picked up a shattered photo frame. Inside, it was a picture of my mother, my brother, and me. My father had died in a car accident years ago, leaving us with crushing debts. My mother had worked construction to put me through college.

A shard of broken glass dug deeply into my index finger. A bead of blood welled up.

Chloe stepped out. Her slender heel deliberately ground into my design drafts, twisting it twice. She leaned down, whispering in a voice only we could hear:

"Eleanor, don't struggle."

"Just take the blame for this, and you'll get less abuse."

I slowly stood up. I stared coldly at her Botox-filled face.

"You know best where the diamond went." I lowered my voice, my tone chilling. "Are you sure you deleted the underlying hidden logs of the iris-recognition safe completely?"

Chloe's smug expression instantly froze. Her pupils contracted slightly.

But she was a born drama queen. The next second, she stumbled back two steps, slamming her back against the glass door.

"Ah—!" Chloe let out a bloodcurdling scream. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her face and wailing. "Eleanor! Why did you hit me!"

"I was just telling you to turn yourself in before it's too late!"

"You stole something, but how can you hurt someone too!"

The crowd outside instantly erupted.

"Holy crap! The thief even dares to hit people!"

A slightly overweight male fanatic rushed forward and shoved me hard. I was unprepared. My back slammed against the marble pillar, and a spasm of pain shot through me.

"Beat this shameless bitch to death!"

The crowd lost control. Countless hands reached out. Someone pulled my hair. Someone tore at my collar. Someone took advantage of the chaos to kick me hard in the shin several times.

I could only clench my teeth, fiercely clutching the photo frame to my chest.

"What are you doing! Are you rebelling!"

The building security guards, armed with riot shields, charged into the crowd, forcibly pushing people away.

I leaned against the pillar, gasping for breath. My hair was disheveled, my white shirt torn, exposing my shoulder.

Chloe was solicitously helped up by several interns. She hid behind the crowd, a cunning, poisonous smile curling her lips.

"Security guards, she stole a fifty-million-dollar diamond and hit me." Chloe, the villain, cried foul first. "We absolutely cannot let a violent maniac like her remain near the company!"

The security guard looked at me with disgust, as if I were something filthy.

"Eleanor, Mr. Smith just issued strict orders."

"You're completely fired."

"Grab your junk and get off this street immediately."

I said nothing. I picked up the broken cardboard box and haphazardly shoved the undestroyed drafts from the ground inside. Hugging the box, I walked down the steps, one by one.

Outside, the sun beat down fiercely. My phone vibrated frantically in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a trending news notification:

[Former director of a famous New York jewelry company steals fifty-million-dollar pink diamond, a beast in human skin!]

The accompanying image was a screenshot of my university mentor's Ins post. The esteemed old professor, a giant in the design world, had publicly written: "The biggest shame of my life is having taught a student like Eleanor."

Immediately followed by a second post:

[I have resigned from all association positions out of shame, unable to face the public.]

My mind buzzed and exploded. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. My breathing felt blocked by sandpaper.

A SnapChat notification popped up. It was a message from Chloe.

[Eleanor, the whole internet is condemning you. Why don't you get on your knees and beg me? If I'm in a good mood, I might even put in a good word for you. ]

I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to smash my phone. I typed a reply.

[Chloe, you're overacting. It's easy to lose control of the show.]

Her reply was instantaneous.

[Still so stubborn. You'll soon find out what true despair feels like.]