From Neglected To New York Queen

"The wedding is back on," my mother' s voice announced, shattering the calm of my Los Angeles penthouse. An arranged marriage to Everette Bryant, a relic from my grandfather' s past, was suddenly my future.

I thought I could lean on Danial and Ismael, my childhood friends, my rocks during a mysterious illness. But a new intern, Judi Coffey, had entered our lives, and something felt off.

Judi, with her innocent facade, quickly became the center of their universe. She stumbled, she cried, she even deliberately broke my award, all to gain their sympathy. Danial and Ismael, once my protectors, turned their backs, their concern solely for her. "Angelina, what's wrong with you? She's just an intern," Danial accused, his eyes cold. Ismael added, "That was harsh. She's just a kid."

Their blind loyalty escalated. Judi' s manufactured crisis, a flat tire, pulled them away, leaving me alone. Later, Danial, enraged by a broken vase, shoved me, causing a head injury. He didn't even notice my allergic reaction, a symptom they once rushed to treat.

How could they forget everything? The bee stings, the shellfish allergies, the times they held my hand in the emergency room. The gardenias Danial planted, now the source of my suffering, went unnoticed.

I looked at their faces, at the two men I had known my entire life, and saw strangers. My decision was made. I burned our shared memories, resigned from my firm, and put my house up for sale. I was leaving them, all of them, for good.

Chapter 1

"The wedding is back on," my mother' s voice said through the phone, as calm as if she were discussing the weather.

I stood on the balcony of my Los Angeles penthouse, the city lights sprawling below me like a carpet of scattered jewels. The cool night air felt good against my skin. I had just been discharged from the hospital a week ago, recovering from a sudden, mysterious illness that had left me weak for months.

"What wedding?" I asked, my voice still a bit hoarse.

"The one with Everette Bryant," she replied. "The Bryants called. They think it's time. You're not getting any younger, Angelina."

The Bryant family. A prominent name in New York, just like ours. An arranged marriage, a pact made between our grandfathers decades ago. It was a relic of the past I thought everyone had forgotten.

"I see," I said, my mind surprisingly clear. I looked out at the vast, glittering expanse of LA, a city that held all my achievements, my friendships, my entire life.

"You'll come back to New York, then?" my mother asked, a hint of anxiety in her tone.

I thought of Danial Odom and Ismael Ashley, my childhood friends. We grew up together, a tight-knit trio. They were more like brothers, our lives so intertwined it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. They had been my rock during my illness, visiting me constantly.

But something had felt... off lately.

"Yes," I said, the decision forming instantly. "I'll come back. I just need two weeks to wrap things up here."

My mother sighed in relief. "Good. That's very good, Angelina."

After I hung up, I leaned against the railing. For the first time in months, I felt a sense of purpose that wasn't tied to a blueprint or a construction site. It was a decision about my own life.

The sound of laughter and upbeat music drifted up from the garden below. Danial and Ismael were throwing a party. It was a welcome party for Judi Coffey, a new intern at my architecture firm whom I had personally recommended. They had taken a liking to her, wanting to make her feel at home.

I went downstairs, my steps slow but steady. The garden was buzzing with people, mostly our shared circle of friends. I saw Danial, the CEO of his family' s tech empire, laughing with a group near the bar. Ismael, the world-famous race car driver, was showing someone photos on his phone, his smile as bright as the poolside lights.

No one seemed to notice me arrive.

Then I saw her. Judi Coffey. She was holding a tray of drinks, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and nervousness. She wore a simple white dress that made her look younger than her twenty-two years. She was the picture of a harmless, eager-to-please intern.

She spotted me and her eyes widened. She walked over, her steps a little unsteady.

"Angelina," she said, her voice soft. "I'm so glad you could make it. I was worried you were still not feeling well."

"I'm better," I said, offering a small smile. "Enjoying the party?"

"Oh, yes! Danial and Ismael have been so kind. I can't believe they'd do all this for me." She looked down at her simple dress. "I feel a little underdressed, though."

"You look fine, Judi."

She looked up, her eyes glistening. "Is it okay if I stay a bit longer? I know I have to be at the office early tomorrow, but I don't want to seem ungrateful."

"It's a party. Stay as long as you like," I said, turning to get a glass of water.

Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. "Could you maybe tell them it's okay? They listen to you. They said they're just waiting for you to tell me to go home so they can wrap up."

I looked at her hand on my arm, then back at her face. Her eyes were wide and pleading. It was a carefully crafted performance of vulnerability.

"Judi, you're an adult. You don't need my permission to stay at a party," I said, my voice firmer than I intended.

Her face crumpled. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly let go of my arm as if I had burned her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to bother you. I know you don't like me."

Before I could respond, she stumbled backward. It was a clumsy, theatrical move. She tripped over her own feet and fell, the tray of drinks crashing to the ground with a loud clatter of breaking glass.

"Judi!"

Danial and Ismael were there in an instant. They rushed past me, their faces etched with concern, and knelt beside her.

"Are you okay?" Ismael asked, his voice laced with worry as he helped her sit up.

"Did she hurt you?" Danial' s question was sharp, his gaze fixed not on Judi, but on me.

Judi shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, no. It was my fault. I'm so clumsy. I just... I think I upset Angelina, and I got flustered." She looked at me, her expression a heartbreaking mix of fear and apology. "I'm so sorry, Angelina. I really didn't mean it."

The people around us stared. Their whispers were low, but I could feel their judgment.

Danial helped Judi to her feet, his arm securely around her waist. "It's okay, Judi. It wasn't your fault." He looked at me, his eyes cold. "Angelina, what's wrong with you? She's just an intern. She looks up to you."

Ismael frowned, his usual easygoing demeanor gone. "Yeah, Ange. That was harsh. She's just a kid."

I looked at their faces, at the two men I had known my entire life, the men who were supposed to know me better than anyone. And in that moment, I saw them clearly for the first time in a long time. They weren't looking at me, their friend Angelina. They were looking at a stranger, a villain in a story someone else was writing.

I remembered all the times they had protected me, defended me, stood by me. Picnics in Central Park, late-night talks after my parents fought, the way they both held my hand in the emergency room after my first bad fall from a horse. The memories were warm, but the reality standing in front of me was ice-cold. Our bond, once unbreakable, had become fragile enough for a stranger to shatter with a few well-placed tears.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, heavier than any fatigue from my illness. I was tired of this city, of these people, of these ghosts of a friendship that no longer existed.

"You're right," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "I'm not feeling well."

I turned and walked away, not looking back. I didn't need to. I knew what I would see: Danial and Ismael fussing over Judi, their backs turned to me.

As I walked through the empty house and up the stairs to my room, a decision settled in my heart, hard and final. I wasn't just leaving Los Angeles. I was leaving them. All of them. For good.