"I didn't mean to steal your fiancé!" Layla choked out through her tears. "I just couldn't help falling in love with him. I've always been so envious of you, Camila!"
Camila's gaze flickered between them, her heart pounding a relentless rhythm against her chest.
"Envious?" Camila finally spat out, her voice sharp with incredulity. "Envious of what, Layla? My life falling apart?"
"Yes, envious!" Layla sobbed, her voice breaking. "You've always had everything—the perfect family, the perfect life. And I have nothing." Her chin quivered as she struggled to maintain her composure.
"Nothing?" Camila's laugh was hollow, bitter. "You call taking my fiancé 'nothing'?"

***
When Camila returned home, filled with excitement to surprise her fiancé Blake, she was devastated to find him in bed with her stepsister Layla. This betrayal shattered her heart completely.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Layla had also stolen Camila's meticulously designed jewelry pieces, using them to advance her own career dramatically. Even Camila's father and stepmother openly sided with Layla, pushing Camila into unprecedented isolation.
However, Camila was not broken by these blows. Determined to fight back, she began plotting her revenge with the help of Travis Turner, a business tycoon.
On this path of revenge, filled with emotional entanglements and family power struggles, Camila leverages her talent and resolve to the fullest. Yet, on the brink of justice and vengeance, who will emerge as the true victor?

Second Chance? Never Again

　　Camila's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the mahogany surface of her antique desk. Her eyes, reflecting a mix of hope and anxiety, flickered every few seconds to the silvery laptop that sat before her, its screen a blank canvas waiting to be splashed with news of her fate.


　　"Come on," she muttered under her breath, her tone a blend of command and entreaty.


　　Her long, dark hair shifted like silk shadows as she leaned closer to the screen, willing an email into existence. Despite her wealth and status, she could not buy her way into the design world's good graces; this was a battle she needed to win on merit alone.


　　"Patience, Camila," she chided herself in a whisper, her voice carrying that trademark sass that often intimidated or charmed, depending on her mood.


　　As if summoned by her voice, the laptop dinged softly, and an email icon popped into the corner of the screen. Camila's heart hitched, then raced as she clicked on the notification.


CHAPTER 15 The Email