Chapter 3

Nina's POV

The next morning, I showed up at the Vance Group headquarters as usual.

Back during my junior year, I had earned my internship in the marketing department through the official, rigorous screening process by submitting a stellar market research proposal. It wasn't a Vance handout; it was my own merit.

And my direct superior happened to be my adoptive brother, the current executive vice president of the Vance Group: Julian Vance.

Holding the final Q4 marketing plan that I had spent three days polishing, I knocked on his office door.

"Julian, here is the finalized Q4 campaign. I remodeled the predictive analytics based on your previous notes." I extended the thick leather-bound folder.

Behind the sprawling mahogany desk, Julian sat in a sharply tailored dark suit, his wire-rimmed glasses giving his handsome features a ruthless, icy edge. He didn't even glance down at the proposal, making no move to take it.

My hands hovered in mid-air.

"Nina," Julian leaned back in his leather chair, his voice dripping with frost. "Why do you constantly have to pick on Chloe?"

My breath hitched. Slowly, I pulled my hands back and set the folder onto his desk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't?" Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh. He spun an iPad around and slammed it down in front of me. "Chloe called me this morning in hysterics. She said you hid the only baby photos she had left from the orphanage—the only memories left of her foster parents! Nina, isn't it enough that you stole her life for ten years? Did you really have to rob her of her only memories? When did you become so vicious?"

I glanced at the screen, which showed Chloe’s tear-stained selfie and a stream of manipulative, weeping texts. It felt like a sledgehammer slamming into my ribs.

"The photos are on the top shelf of the living room media wall, tucked behind some art books. She said she couldn't find them yesterday, so before going to bed last night, I took them out and put them right on the coffee table," I said, forcing my voice to remain completely flat. "Julian, does that look like hiding them to you?"

Julian blinked, momentarily thrown off by the plain facts. But his embarrassment quickly morphed into irritation, his face darkening even further. "Even so, couldn't your attitude toward her be a little kinder? She suffered all her life outside while you lived in luxury. She’s fragile! Would it kill you to yield a little?"

"Yield?" I finally raised my head, locking eyes with him. "Julian, how much more do you want me to yield? I gave up my bedroom. I gave up my Ivy League exchange slot. I play the obedient mute every single day in front of your parents! What else do you want me to surrender?"

"You've lived in this house for ten years, enjoying the finest things money can buy! You have everything, and Chloe had nothing!" Stung by the defiance in my eyes, Julian slammed his hands on the desk and surged to his feet, shouting.

"You think I have everything?" I suddenly laughed—a raw, desolate sound dripping with bitter amusement. I stared at the man who had once shielded me from bullies and thrown punches for my sake, the final spark of affection in my chest dying out.

"Do I have real parents? Do I have a real family? When you're happy, I'm Nina Vance; when you're not, I'm a disposable stray you can kick to the curb!"

"Shut up!" Cornered by the brutal truth, Julian jerked his head away, spitting out venom to mask his guilt: "You're an outsider to begin with! The Vance family raised you for a decade, and instead of showing gratitude, you harbor toxic jealousy toward Chloe. You're shameless!"

*An outsider.*

The words stabbed straight through my heart like a serrated dagger, shredding the last ounce of sentiment I held for the Vance family.

Ten years of devotion. Ten years of obedience. Ten years of striving for perfection. In the end, I was just an *outsider.*

"Understood." My smile vanished, replaced by an expressionless mask. My voice was utterly dead, drained of all emotion. "This marketing plan is the final deliverable I will ever submit as an intern. If you don't need it, feel free to toss it into the shredder."

With that, I turned around and walked out, my spine rigid and unbending.

"Nina! Get back here right now!" Julian roared behind me.

I didn't stop. I walked straight out of the executive suite.

Stepping into the elevator, I pressed the button for the top floor. The mirrored doors slid shut, sealing away the noise of the outside world.

I pulled out my phone, took a slow, deep breath, and scrolled until my thumb rested on an unsaved New York phone number. It was the contact that had come attached to the DNA report two weeks ago.

I had never dialed it. I used to believe I would never need to.

Now, without a second's hesitation, I tapped the call button.

It didn't even ring twice before the line clicked open. A voice came through—aged, immensely powerful, yet trembling violently: "Hello?"

I closed my eyes. A solitary tear that I had fought so hard to suppress rolled down my cheek, but my voice was completely steady: "Grandmother, it's me. I'm coming home."

On the other end of the line, the sound of something crashing to the floor echoed, followed by the raw, choked-up sobs of the matriarch: "Good... good! I'm sending cars for you right now! My granddaughter... you're finally willing to come home!"

I hung up, looking at my reflection in the elevator glass. A razor-cold smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. From this moment on, the docile, mistreated Nina Vance was dead. There was only the true heiress of the Hayes empire: Nina Hayes.