Chapter 2

The first day at Sterling & Associates was a blur of introductions and paperwork. The office was even more impressive from the inside, a world of polished concrete floors, glass walls, and hushed, important conversations. I was given a desk in the open-plan design studio, a space buzzing with creative energy. I felt a thrill of excitement, a sense that I was finally where I belonged. The strange phone call from Chloe felt a world away.

That feeling lasted until mid-morning.

Our team used a company-wide messaging platform for quick updates and casual chats. A new message popped up in the main #general channel, visible to the entire Los Angeles office.

It was from a user named Chloe Peterson.

Attached to the message was a photo. It was a selfie of me and David from the day before, taken right after we' d arrived at my apartment. We were both smiling, and he had his arm slung casually around my shoulder-a normal, brotherly pose.

But the caption underneath told a different story.

So nice of the company to hire my fiancé's "sister," the message read. They seem very, very close. Some people have no shame.

The message landed like a bomb in the middle of the quiet office. I could feel dozens of eyes suddenly turn towards my desk. A wave of heat washed over my face. My fingers trembled as I stared at the screen. This wasn't a private, unhinged phone call. This was a public execution.

My first instinct was to fight back, to clear my name.

My fingers flew across the keyboard.

Chloe, I' m not sure what you' re trying to imply, but David is my brother. We were raised together. I would appreciate it if you didn' t post misleading pictures of us on a professional platform.

I hit send. The silence in the office was now deafening. I could see people whispering to their neighbors, their faces a mixture of curiosity and pity.

Chloe' s reply came almost instantly.

Raised together? How sweet. Is that what you call it? David told me you were adopted. You' re not his "sister." You' re not related by blood at all. So I' ll say it again. Keep your hands off my man.

The word adopted hung there in the digital space, stripped of all its familial warmth and turned into a weapon. She had twisted the truth of my family into something ugly and suggestive. Now everyone in the company knew our private history. I felt naked, exposed.

Before I could even process the humiliation, a private message from David popped up.

Sarah, don' t engage. Just ignore it. You' re making it worse.

I stared at his words, my anger surging. I' m making it worse?

I typed back furiously. She is publicly humiliating me, David! She' s telling the entire office that I' m trying to sleep with you. You need to stop her!

His reply was infuriatingly calm. I am handling it. Just be the bigger person here.

But he wasn't handling it. On the public channel, Chloe posted again.

He' s not even defending you, is he? That' s because he knows it' s true. He tells me everything. He tells me how you' ve always been obsessed with him, how you followed him all the way to LA.

It was a cascade of lies, each one more vicious than the last. I felt a deep, wrenching pang of disappointment. David. My brother, my protector. The person I had trusted more than anyone. He had always been the strong one, the one who looked out for me. When I was a kid and fell off my bike, he was the one who carried me home. When I struggled with calculus in high school, he spent hours tutoring me. My entire life, he had been my anchor.

Now, that anchor was not only failing to hold me steady, he was actively letting the storm toss me around. The foundation of my trust in him began to crack.

Just as I was about to type another desperate reply, a message from the firm's senior partner, Mr. Sterling, appeared in the channel. His tone was sharp and final.

This is a professional workspace. This conversation is over. Miss Peterson, your access to this platform is now revoked. Miss Miller, Mr. Miller, my office. Now.

The channel went silent.

The walk to Mr. Sterling' s office was the longest of my life. Every head turned to watch me. I saw pity in some eyes, suspicion in others. David met me at the door to Mr. Sterling' s office, his face a mask of concern.

"I am so, so sorry about this, Sarah," he whispered, avoiding my eyes.

"Are you?" I asked, my voice cold.

Mr. Sterling was an imposing man in his late sixties, with a reputation for being tough but fair. He looked at both of us, his expression unreadable.

"I don' t know what kind of family drama this is," he said, his voice low and serious. "And frankly, I don' t care. But it will not play out in my office. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Sterling," David said immediately. "It won' t happen again. I' ve already spoken to my fiancée. It was a complete misunderstanding."

He didn' t even look at me. He just stood there, defending Chloe, minimizing her attack.

Mr. Sterling looked at me. "Miss Miller, this is not the first impression you want to make at this firm. You' re a talented architect. Your portfolio is one of the best I' ve seen in years. Don' t let this... distraction... derail your career before it even begins."

"It won't, sir," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I just want to do my work."

"Good," he said, his tone softening a little. "David, get your house in order. Now both of you, get back to work."

We walked out of the office in silence. As soon as we were in the hallway, David grabbed my arm.

"See? It' s fine. It' s handled."

"Handled?" I pulled my arm away. "David, she just destroyed my reputation on my first day of work! And you did nothing!"

"What was I supposed to do, Sarah? Get into a shouting match with her in a public forum? I' m an executive here. I have to maintain a certain image. I told you I would handle it privately."

He led Chloe away from the main office floor, his arm around her, whispering comforting words. He didn't once look back at me. He was soothing the attacker, leaving the victim to stand alone in the wreckage.

I went back to my desk, my face still burning. The friendly chatter of the office had not returned. People avoided my gaze. I felt a profound sense of isolation, a cold loneliness that had nothing to do with being in a new city.

I looked at the design plans on my screen, the clean lines and ambitious structures that had once filled me with so much excitement. Now, they just looked like a reminder of a dream that was rapidly turning into a nightmare. This wasn't just about a jealous fiancée anymore. This was about David. And I had a terrible, sinking feeling that the battle ahead was going to be much harder than I could have ever imagined.