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Alexander's lips curved into a mocking smirk as he leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Lena's stunned face.

"If you wanted it so badly," he said in a smooth, taunting voice, "you could've just asked. I would have gladly donated it to you."

His words dripped with amusement, but his eyes were cold.

Lena's heart pounded in her chest.

This was a setup.

She knew it. He knew it.

And yet—she had no proof.

Lena screamed in frustration, her voice echoing through the grand lobby. Her face burned with rage and humiliation as she struggled against the guards gripping her arms.

"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice shaking. "I didn't steal anything!"

But no one listened.

Alexander stood there, completely unfazed, watching with that same infuriating smirk as the guards dragged her out.

The moment she was shoved outside, the cold air hit her like a slap. The massive glass doors shut behind her, cutting her off from the lavish world inside.

Her hands clenched into fists as she stared at her own reflection in the glass—a woman stripped of her dignity, accused of a crime she didn't commit.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Lena staggered back, the weight of Alexander's cruelty pressing against her chest like a vice. His cold indifference, his mockery—it all felt too familiar.

Her mind drifted back twenty years, to a bitterly cold night when she was just six years old.

The wind howled through the empty streets, biting into her skin as she huddled in the corner of a run-down alley. She hadn't eaten in two days, and her tiny hands were numb with frost.

That was when she saw him—a rich boy, barely older than her, stepping out of a grand black car. He was dressed in a thick fur coat, his cheeks rosy from warmth, as he laughed with his friends.

Lena had gathered the courage to take a step forward, her stomach twisting in hunger. "P-Please…" she had whispered, her voice barely audible. "Do you have any food?"

The boy had turned to her, his face contorting in disgust.

"Stay away from me, filthy beggar!" he had snapped, stepping back as if she carried a disease. His friends had laughed, their eyes gleaming with cruelty.

Lena had flinched, shame curling in her chest, but the boy hadn't stopped.

"Poor people should just die. The world doesn't need them."

The words had cut deeper than any wound. She had watched them leave, their laughter ringing in her ears, as she shrank into herself. That night, she had made a silent vow—one day, she would never beg again.

But today… standing outside Alexander's office, humiliated and accused, she felt like that helpless six-year-old all over again.

Had nothing changed? Had she spent twenty years fighting just to end up right back where she started?

Lena silently entered the café, her mind still clouded with humiliation and anger. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but she barely noticed it. Her legs felt heavy, her body moving as if on autopilot.

She sank into a corner seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she removed her coat. A waiter approached, his voice gentle.

"Would you like to order something, ma'am?"

Lena didn't want anything—her appetite had vanished—but she gave a small nod, forcing herself to mutter a random order just to avoid questions.

As the waiter walked away, she exhaled shakily, rubbing her temples. Her world felt like it was falling apart, piece by piece.

Then, her gaze landed on the TV screen mounted on the wall.

The café was playing the morning news, and she barely paid attention—until she saw her own name flashing on the screen.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The news anchor's voice rang through the café:

"Breaking news in the literary world! The novel Shattered Reflections has soared to the number one spot on the bestseller list, selling over five hundred thousand copies in just a month! The book, written by Lena Carter, was initially overlooked but has now taken the industry by storm…"

Lena froze, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Her novel. The one she had poured her soul into. The one her publisher had called a failure before firing her.

Her pulse quickened.

How was this possible? How had a book that was deemed worthless just a month ago suddenly become the most talked-about novel in the country?

Lena's breath caught in her throat as realization dawned upon her.

Her publisher had lied.

They hadn't fired her because her book was a failure. They had discarded her because they wanted her out of the way.

Her hands curled into fists as anger surged through her veins.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and dialed Ryan's number.

The call rang for a few seconds before he finally picked up.

"Lena?" Ryan seemed to be in a hurry.

"I need to see you," she said immediately, her voice firm, urgent. "Right now."

Ryan sighed on the other end. "Lena, it's really not a good time—"

"I don't care!" she snapped. "I know my publisher lied to me. My book is a bestseller, Ryan! They got rid of me on purpose."

There was a pause.

Then, Ryan exhaled sharply. "Lena, listen, you need to calm down—"

"I'm not calming down!" she shot back. "Just tell me where you are. We need to talk."

Another long silence. Then, Ryan hesitated before muttering,

"…Fine. Maybe. I'll see."

Lena gritted her teeth. "Ryan—"

"I'll let you know," he cut her off. And before she could argue, he hung up.

Lena exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. The past twenty-four hours had drained her—emotionally, mentally, and physically.

She buried her face in her hands, feeling the dull throb of a headache settling in.

She needed money. Desperately.

Her mother's treatment couldn't wait, and yet here she was—penniless, despite writing a book that was earning someone else a fortune.

Her publisher had stabbed her in the back, profiting from her work while she struggled to afford a single meal.

Her fingers curled into fists on the table. This wasn't fair.

But life had never been fair to her.

She had survived years of hardship, clawing her way out of darkness, only to be pushed back again and again.

The noise of the café blurred into the background as she closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to push past the exhaustion. But no matter how hard she tried, a single thought kept echoing in her mind:

What am I going to do now?

The weight of everything pressed down on her—her mother's medical bills, her stolen success, and the humiliation she had just suffered at Alexander's hands. The air inside the café was warm, but she still felt cold.

She had ordered a coffee without thinking, and now the cup sat untouched in front of her. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim as her mind spiraled through the past few weeks. Everything had fallen apart so quickly.

Just as she was lost in thought, a familiar voice broke through the haze.

"Lena."

She looked up sharply. Ryan stood at the entrance, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. He looked tense, his usual easygoing expression replaced with concern. He made his way over, sliding into the chair across from her.

Lena swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table. "Ryan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My publisher… he lied to me. He told me my book was a failure, but it's on the bestseller list. He's making money off my work while I have nothing."

Ryan shook his head. "You can deal with your publisher later," he said firmly. Then, without another word, he pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Lena.

"Look at this."

Lena frowned and leaned forward. As soon as she saw the screen, her breath caught in her throat. It was a video—one that had already spread like wildfire on the internet.

The footage was from earlier, when she had been thrown out of Alexander's office. Someone had recorded the entire scene, capturing the moment the guards searched her and found the expensive watch in her pocket. The clip had been shared across multiple platforms, racking up thousands of views.