2025-06-17 00:04:04Sophia stood by the window in the modest conference room of the old house, her hands folded calmly as she stared out at the city skyline.
The lights flickered in the distance, like tiny stars scattered on the dark canvas of night. Outside, the city buzzed with whispers—rumors that grew louder every hour. The news had broken hours ago: Sophia, the woman who had quietly stepped into Brent’s shoes, was now the new CEO of Walker International.Officially, she had “bought” Brent’s assets—the buildings, the shares, the companies that had once belonged to him. It was a stunning move that no one had seen coming. Even the sharpest tongues in the city were left speechless. The media frenzy was just beginning. Across town, in the gleaming towers of Chen Industries, Sarah Chen paced the floor of her lavish office. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she muttered curses under her breath. The rep
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230 - KARMA IS REAL
Tiffany Wu had built her entire identity around being seen. She strutted into the Grand Sapphire Hotel’s ballroom, the hem of her glittering silver dress sweeping across the marble floors. Her hair was styled in perfect waves, makeup sharp enough to slice through the soft lighting. Cameras flashed as she paused at the entrance, tilting her head just right, her lips forming her practiced influencer smile. “Queen Tiff in the building 💅✨.” “Another red carpet conquered.” “#LivingTheDream.” She waved at the sea of influencers and socialites gathered for the Galaxy Influencer Awards, each step a quiet reminder that Tiffany Wu believed she was untouchable. Years ago, Tiffany was Sarah Chen’s closest friend at college. They would sit at the cafe with iced lattes, laughing while Brent Walker mopped around them, wiping tables. “Loser boy, clean faster!” Tiffany had once shouted, thr
229 - LAUGHING STOCK
Vivian Miranda Chen had always believed money was everything. She sipped her imported green tea in delicate silence, seated at the head of a polished mahogany table in the Pearl Club, the city’s most exclusive high-society women’s club. Her diamond earrings sparkled under the chandeliers, and the silk scarf around her neck was embroidered with her initials, “V.C.”, in gold thread. Around her, women in designer dresses laughed lightly, pretending to be gracious while silently competing over handbags, vacations, and whose daughter had the richer husband. Vivian thrived in these games. “Sarah’s been quiet lately,” one woman with pearl earrings said lightly, sipping her tea. Vivian’s eyes sharpened. “She’s focusing on her business. We’re Chen Industries, dear. We don’t crumble.” They nodded politely, hiding smirks behind teacups. Everyone had see
228 - THE CHENS ARE FALLING?
Robert Chen once thought the world would always bow to him. In boardrooms, he slammed fists on tables, made young assistants tremble, and laughed as people scrambled to please him. At home, he was no different, barking orders at Sarah’s mother, telling Sarah she was only good if she married rich. He looked at people like Brent—quiet, broke, eager—and saw them as disposable. “Coffee boy,” Robert would sneer, flicking Brent’s ear as he passed in the hallway. Sarah laughed back then, the two of them acting like royalty, a father-daughter duo in cruelty. Robert Chen owned Chen Industries, and in his mind, he owned the world. Now, the world had shrunk to a single concrete cell. He sat on the cold metal bunk, the thin grey blanket scratchy against his rough prison uniform. The cell smelled of bleach, sweat, and something metallic. The walls closed in, and the small slit of a window offered nothing bu
227 - HR MANAGER'S UNDOING
Richard Tan’s morning always started with expensive coffee and empty arrogance.He sat at his glass desk on the 19th floor of Chen Industries, swirling his latte in one hand while flipping through employee files on his tablet. He liked reading about people’s lives, seeing their weaknesses, their debts, their mistakes. It made him feel powerful.Years ago, he had fired Brent with a smirk, sliding the termination letter across the table.“You’re too slow, Brent. Useless people don’t belong here.”He still remembered the defeated look on Brent’s face, the way his shoulders slumped before he quietly picked up his box and walked out. Richard had laughed, telling his colleagues:“Losers like that are meant to be stepped on.”Now, Richard leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his burner phone, checking notifications from his side hustle. He had a hidden online “career coaching” business, selling fake resume services, taking m
226 - QUIET BLESSING
Mr. Liu’s day started at 4:30 AM, just like every day for the past twenty years. He shuffled out of his tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city, pulling on his faded blue jacket, the zipper stuck halfway. The sky was still dark, only a few stars blinking above the streetlights. He tied his old shoes, the soles cracked, but still good enough to walk the mile to the bus stop. He carried a small metal lunchbox, packed by his own hands—two buns, a boiled egg, and a piece of sweet potato, the same meal he’d had for breakfast and lunch for as long as he could remember. Mr. Liu was the janitor at Chen Industries. Every day, he swept the marble floors, cleaned the glass doors, and emptied trash bins, moving quietly while the office workers ignored him or stepped around him like he was invisible. He didn’t mind. He liked to keep things clean, liked the hum of the vacuum, liked the soft whisper of the broom on the floor.
225 - THE FALL
Layla Zhao always thought she was untouchable.She leaned back in the plush leather seat of her pink-wrapped Mercedes, scrolling through her phone, red nails tapping on the screen. Her lips were painted a bright cherry gloss that shimmered under the early afternoon sun, and the faint scent of her expensive vanilla perfume filled the car.She scrolled past clips of Sarah’s meltdown at the panel, scoffing. “She deserves it,” Layla muttered, tossing her hair. She still remembered the days she and Sarah would sit at expensive rooftop bars, laughing while Brent—back then, “the coffee boy”—tripped over himself carrying their shopping bags.“Hey, worthless, don’t scratch the bags.”They would giggle, sipping mimosas, while Brent quietly bowed his head, swallowing every insult.Layla smirked. “Life is fair.”Today, she was headed to the launch of her “skincare brand,” which was actually drop-shipped cheap cream she rebranded with a gold
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