Chapter2

I stared at my father's hard grip on my wrist, my throat going dry.

"I'm your daughter too. For her sake, you wouldn't even look into it before condemning me to carry the label of a thief for the rest of my life?"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"What does being a daughter have to do with anything? Stealing is stealing."

"Do you have any idea who is here today? Liam's parents, his partners, the investors in his fund! If word gets out that you stole money, how am I supposed to marry into his family?"

"Sign it, and I can at least tell people it was all a misunderstanding."

She made it sound so reasonable, yet every word drove another nail into my coffin.

The moment I signed that paper, I was completely finished in this industry. No one would hand a multimillion-dollar project to a contractor who was a known thief.

Liam walked over, a wine glass in his hand. His tone was gentle, but his eyes looked at me like I was a liability.

"Nora, if you're short on cash, just ask. Chloe wouldn't leave you stranded. Just sign it, so everyone can save face."

I gripped the fountain pen, refusing to let it touch the paper as my father's hold tightened around my bleeding hand.

"Enough."

A gray-haired man stepped out from the crowd and shoved my father away.

It was Mr. Grant, a prominent local developer. I had handled the gut renovation of his commercial plaza the previous year.

"I've seen Nora's work firsthand. There aren't many in this city who build as solidly as she does. Talk this out properly, don't get physical in public."

Chloe's face darkened, and she raised her voice.

"Mr. Grant, don't let her fool you! This oak flooring you're standing on? She quoted me for solid hardwood but installed cheap veneer! The paint on the walls is bottom-barrel garbage—the smell won't fade for a month!"

"She pocketed all the difference!"

Grant looked down at the flooring, took a half-step back, and his eyes grew cold.

"Is this true?"

A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd.

"No wonder she worked for free. She was skimming off the top."

"How does someone like that even keep a license?"

Before I could even open my mouth, my mother cut in.

"Chloe told us about it ages ago, but we convinced her to leave you some dignity. Who knew you'd get so bold that you'd start stealing hard cash!"

Skimming the difference? It was absurd. If I were only in it for a profit margin, why would I be down in the trenches every day, breathing concrete dust and working myself to the bone?

If I really wanted to make money, picking up a single commercial contract would have been enough. Why would I suffer through this?

Seeing me stay quiet, my father reached out and jabbed his finger into my head, each poke harder than the last.

"You've eaten at least a hundred grand in kickbacks over the last six months. You will spit it back out today, with interest! Otherwise, I'll report you to the state licensing board tomorrow and make sure you never work a day in your life again!"

Several guests raised their phones, aiming their cameras right at me. Through those lenses, I was absolutely pathetic, covered in mud and grime.

I didn't want to see myself plastered all over everyone's Instagram the next morning. Suppressing my fury, I lowered my voice.

"Today is your party, and Liam's family is all here. Blowing this up won't do anyone any good."

Thinking I was scared, Chloe smiled even more smugly, deliberately pitching her voice for the cameras.

"Now you know how to be scared? Why weren't you scared when you were pocketing those kickbacks?"

"Twenty grand in cash, plus a hundred grand for the rework. Not a penny less. Or else by tomorrow, the whole city will know exactly what kind of trash you are!"

My parents stood off to the side without saying a single word.

No one offered a word of defense for me, and no one told those people to lower their cameras.

Staring at Chloe's utterly confident face, the chill in my heart deepened.

I dug the old burner phone out of my cargo pocket and hit play on an audio file.

It was from the job site, a month ago.

Chloe's voice rang out, crystal clear. "The eco-friendly paint is way too expensive. Just use the cheap one; no one will smell the difference once we move in. The money we save will buy me a new bag."

Then came my voice. "That paint doesn't meet code. And that's a load-bearing wall. It cannot be torn down."

"I already found a crew who'll do it for half your price. Mind your own business, it's my house!"

As the recording ended, a dead silence fell over the grand hall.

The smartphone lenses snapped in unison toward Chloe.

Liam set his wine glass down, his expression turning dark.

"Chloe, what is this about a load-bearing wall? You assured me this house passed all code compliance inspections."

Chloe's face instantly drained of color.

"Turn those off! Who told you to record? Delete it, all of you!"

My father lunged forward to snatch the phone. I dodged to the side but was knocked to the floor by his weight.

My mother pulled Chloe into her arms and screamed at me.

"She's a layman, what does she know? You're the professional! Instead of stopping her, you secretly recorded her? You're deliberately trying to ruin her marriage!"

My father pointed an angry finger at me.

"Scheming and recording this garbage—what kind of sick intentions do you have? Tearing your sister down in front of Liam... you just want to see her left at the altar, don't you?"

So they did know that once a reputation is ruined, it could never be pieced back together.

Yet when they were destroying mine, they hadn't hesitated for a second.

Over the last six months, I had drawn the blueprints, I had managed the crew, and I had endured endless trips to handle the inspections.

Chloe would swing by the site once a week, snap a few photos, slap a filter on them, and post them to her Instagram with the caption: "My dream house is almost done!" The location tag was always set to some upscale coffee shop in SoHo.

In the end, she took all the credit, and I took all the blame.

Sprawled on the floor, I waited until no one was looking, pressed the record button, and slipped the phone into my mud-caked boot.

I pushed myself up, enunciating every single word.

"I didn't steal anything. If you don't believe me, search me right now. But if you don't find it—"

Before I could even finish, my father let out a cold snort, ripped open my tool pouch, and plunged his hand into the inner lining.

A split second later, he pulled something out.

My father sneered. "Nora, what is this?"