Vanessa's POV
My key wouldn't turn in the lock.
I stood outside my penthouse at two in the morning, still wearing the white dress that now felt like a costume from someone else's life. My hand shook as I tried the key again. Nothing.
No, no, no. I jiggled the handle harder. Come on!
The door didn't budge.
He changed the locks. Marcus changed the locks to my own apartment.
I pressed my forehead against the cold door and laughed—a horrible, broken sound that echoed in the empty hallway. Of course he did. The penthouse was in both our names. Joint property, just like everything else we'd shared.
Everything he'd stolen.
A security guard appeared from the elevator. Ms. Chen? I was told to inform you that your belongings have been removed from the premises.
What? Where are they?
He pointed toward the elevator without meeting my eyes. Downstairs. On the sidewalk.
I ran.
The elevator took forever. Each floor felt like an hour. When the doors finally opened to the lobby, I saw news vans parked outside through the glass doors. At least a dozen reporters with cameras and microphones.
They were waiting for me.
Use the side exit, the security guard said quietly. They can't see that one from the street.
I nodded, unable to speak, and followed him through a service hallway. He opened a side door that led to the alley where the trash bins were kept.
My entire life sat in garbage bags next to the dumpster.
Six black trash bags, ripped and torn, my clothes and shoes and personal items spilling onto the dirty concrete. My laptop bag sat on top, but when I grabbed it, the weight was wrong.
Empty. He'd taken my computer.
I fell to my knees beside the bags, my white dress soaking up grime from the alley floor. My hands moved mechanically, checking what was there and what was missing.
Clothes—mostly cheap stuff. All my designer pieces were gone.
Shoes, three pairs. I owned twenty.
Photos, I found one framed picture of my mother. The glass was cracked.
Jewelry—nothing. He'd taken everything except my grandmother's jade bracelet, which I was wearing tonight.
I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app with shaking fingers.
Checking account: $847.23
Savings account: $0.00
Joint investment account: ACCESS DENIED
He drained everything, I whispered. He took it all.
We'd combined our finances two years ago. Marcus said it was romantic. Practical. We were building a life together.
I'd been so stupid.
My phone battery was at 3%. I needed to call someone. Maya. I needed Maya.
But before I could dial, headlights flooded the alley. A news van.
There she is! A reporter jumped out, camera already rolling. Ms. Chen! Is it true you stole Marcus Reeves' code?
More vans screeched to a stop. Reporters swarmed toward me.
How does it feel to be exposed as a fraud?
Did you really think you'd get away with it?
Is there any truth to the allegations?
I scrambled to my feet, grabbing two of the trash bags. I couldn't carry them all. The reporters closed in, cameras flashing, microphones shoved in my face.
Please, just—I need— I couldn't form words.
Vanessa!
A familiar voice cut through the chaos. Maya's small SUV screeched into the alley, nearly hitting a cameraman. She jumped out, her eyes blazing.
Back off! All of you, back the hell off! Maya pushed through the reporters and grabbed my arm. Come on, Lyn. We're leaving.
My stuff
I'll get it. Get in the car. Now.
I stumbled to the passenger seat while Maya threw trash bags into her trunk. The reporters pressed against the windows, their camera flashes blinding me. Maya jumped in the driver's seat and gunned the engine, scattering the crowd.
We didn't speak until we were ten blocks away.
Your apartment? I finally whispered.
Already ahead of you. Maya's jaw was tight. You're staying with me. As long as you need.
Something inside me cracked. Maya, I—everything's gone. The company, the money, I can't even—
We'll figure it out. Her hand squeezed mine. I'm not leaving you. Not ever.
That's when I saw it. The phone mounted on her dashboard showed Twitter trending topics.
#FakeCEO #VanessaChenExposed
#MarcusReevesGenius
I clicked on #FakeCEO with numb fingers.
Thousands of posts. Videos of me being escorted out by security. Photos of Marcus and Lily kissing. Memes mocking me. Screenshots of my Stanford graduation with captions like Guess that degree was worthless.
One video had 2 million views. A tech blogger analyzing evidence Marcus released—emails allegedly showing me stealing his work, documents with my forged signature, testimony from former employees claiming I took credit for Marcus's ideas.
All lies. But they looked so real.
Stop looking at that, Maya said, grabbing the phone from me.
But I'd already seen enough. The internet had decided I was guilty. My name was destroyed.
We pulled up to Maya's apartment building. She lived in a modest two-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood—nothing like my former penthouse. It had never looked so much like heaven.
Inside, Maya pointed to the guest room. Bathroom's there. I'll make tea.
I collapsed onto the bed, still in my ruined white dress. The room was small and simple. A bed, a dresser, a window overlooking the parking lot.
Twenty-four hours ago, I had a $3 million penthouse, a thriving company, a fiancé, and a future.
Now I had $847 and garbage bags full of clothes.
I pulled out my phone—2% battery—and stared at my reflection in the black screen. My makeup was smeared, my hair a mess, my eyes red and swollen.
I looked like exactly what Marcus had called me: a fraud.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself cry. Really cry. Huge, gasping sobs that shook my whole body. I cried for the company I built from nothing. For the trust I'd placed in the wrong person. For the family that abandoned me without question.
Maya appeared in the doorway with tea and wrapped her arms around me without saying a word.
I cried until there was nothing left.
I built that company, I finally choked out. Every line of code, every algorithm, every patent—that was me. My work. My vision.
I know, Lyn. I was there. I watched you do it.
Nobody believes me.
I believe you. And we're going to prove it.
My phone died in my hand. Maya plugged it into her charger, and we sat in silence while it powered back on.
When the screen lit up, notifications flooded in. Hundreds of them. Emails, texts, social media alerts—all negative. All calling me a liar, a thief, a fake.
Then Maya's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen and her face went white.
What? I asked. What is it?
Maya's hand trembled as she turned the phone toward me.
An email from Chen Technologies' Board Secretary.
Emergency Board Meeting Results: By a vote of 8-2, the Board of Directors has voted to remove Vanessa Chen as CEO, effective 9:00 AM tomorrow morning. Ms. Chen is to surrender all company property and access immediately.
I stared at the words, unable to breathe.
Tomorrow morning. They were taking my CEO title. My company. The business I'd built from my Stanford dorm room.
They can't, I whispered. The bylaws require a full investigation before—
Maya's phone buzzed again. Another email. This time from a number I didn't recognize.
Thought you'd want to know—David Chen called the vote. Your own uncle. He had the evidence ready before Marcus even went public. This was planned, Vanessa. All of it.
My blood turned to ice.
Uncle David. My father's brother. The man who'd invested in Chen Technologies when no one else would. Who'd sat on my board. Who'd had dinner at my apartment last month and told me how proud he was.
He'd orchestrated this.
Why? The word came out broken. Why would David—he's family. He helped me build—
My phone lit up with a new notification. A video message from an unknown sender.
I pressed play with shaking hands.
Uncle David's face filled the screen. He was sitting in what looked like a private office, a glass of whiskey in his hand, smiling.
Hello, Vanessa, he said. By now you've realized tonight wasn't an accident. Marcus, Lily, the board vote—I arranged all of it. You're probably wondering why. He took a sip of whiskey. Let's just say your father and I have old debts to settle. And you, my dear niece, are how I settle them.
The video ended.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
This wasn't just Marcus's betrayal. This wasn't just about stolen code or a cheating fiancé.
This was revenge.
And I had no idea what I'd done to deserve it.