PAIGE
The rest of the walk home was a blur of city lights and hazy thoughts. I barely remember putting my key in the lock or kicking off my shoes. The second I fell onto my bed, the world just switched off. I was out, swallowed by a deep, dreamless sleep.
I woke up to the worst kind of morning. Sunlight felt like a personal attack, stabbing through my eyelids. My mouth tasted like something had died in it, and my head was pounding in time with my heartbeat. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head.
That's when I heard it. The quiet clatter of a mug, the gentle hum of the coffee machine from the kitchen. I shuffled out of bed, my body protesting, and found Leon in my small kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, with two mugs of steaming coffee in front of him.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he said, pushing one mug toward me. The rich, bitter smell was the first good thing I'd experienced all morning. "Figured you'd need this. You were pretty gone last night."
I just grunted, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. The first sip was life-saving. I closed my eyes, letting the caffeine start its slow work on my pounding head. Last night came back in pieces… the cancelled interview, the whisky, the club…
…and the man in the expensive Tom Ford black suit. That intense, unreadable stare. A little shiver went through me that had nothing to do with the hangover.
The constant buzzing of my phone drew my attention.
I grab my phone from the couch and see the piled-up notifications, and the blood drains from my face as all the news and blogs carry one headline.
"Rimestone Co. New branch NYC."
Leon looks over my shoulder, taking a peek at my phone screen. "What the… fuck."
My heart rate skyrocketed. Why would they come here?. What was their motive?. What do they stand to gain?.
"They have a reason for coming here… It's not just some looking for greener pastures or more opportunities, shit. Those people want to ruin any chances you've got." He says, looking worried.
I'm left in a state of utter shock. I was trying to piece things together, but nothing clicked.
I scrolled through my notifications with a numb feeling, my thumb moving on its own. It landed on the Instagram app. I never posted, but I still had it. A habit from another life.
Without even thinking, I typed in my sister's name. Payton Sakura Rimestone.
Her profile loaded a grid of perfectly curated photos. There she was, pouting in a private Gulfstream jet. Smirking next to a Ferrari, I knew our father had just bought it for her. And then, the most recent post.
A photo of her, holding a shiny new Rimestone Co. keycard, with the NYC skyline glittering behind her through a floor-to-ceiling window. The caption made my stomach drop down to my feet.
'So beyond blessed! Daddy's little girl is all grown up 😉 Officially the new Financial Director of Rimestone Co.'s New York branch! Can't wait to take this city by storm! #NewYork #Rimestone #Finance #GirlBoss'
I felt the coffee in my stomach turn to acid. The room spun, and it wasn't from the hangover anymore. She was here. In my city. In my space. She had taken everything from me, and now she was coming to rub my face in it.
The thought of running into her—her in her custom Akris suits, me in my thrift-store jeans, her in a chauffeured Maybach, me counting change for the subway—made me want to vomit.
Leon saw the color drain from my face. "Paige? What is it?"
I couldn't speak. I just turned the phone screen toward him.
He sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, hell no. They didn't."
"They did," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "She's here. She's going to be everywhere. At Cipriani Downtown, at The Mark. She'll make sure I see her. She'll make sure I know exactly how much I've lost."
I dropped my phone on the couch like it was on fire. The hope I'd barely started to feel for the Daki Tech interview was instantly crushed under the weight of my sister's perfect, smug smile.
How could I possibly succeed with my family, with her, watching my every move, waiting for me to fail?
I stared at the phone, my sister's gloating smile burning itself into my brain. A cold, hard feeling started to push aside the shock and the hangover nausea. It was a familiar fire, one I'd almost let die.
No. Not anymore.
They thought they had me beat. They thought sending my airhead sister to parade around my city would make me curl up and disappear. They thought I'd just let them win.
My jaw tightened. The self-pity evaporated, replaced by a steely resolve.
I have to get that job. I have to. It's not just an option anymore, it's a necessity. I need that job at Daki Tech like I need air to breathe.
It's my only way to fight back. My only shot at a comeback.
Monday. The interview is on Monday. That's in two days.
I looked over at Leon, my eyes probably showing the storm brewing inside me. "I'm getting that job," I said, my voice low but firm. "I don't care what it takes."
Leon nodded, a slow smile spreading on his face. "Now that's the Paige I know."
I grabbed my phone again, but this time I wasn't looking at my sister's feed. I opened my notes app, pulling up my research on Daki Tech.
I have two days to make sure that when I walk into that interview, they won't see a disinherited runaway. They would see the most brilliant financial mind they had ever encountered.
I would make sure of it.
Because the alternative—seeing the triumph in my sister's eyes—was not an option. The interview was on Monday. My entire future, my entire revenge, depended on it.