---- Chapter 8 Harper Griffin POV: Returning to the headquarters of the Griffin Architectural Firm felt like stepping into an alternate reality. The sleek, minimalist lobby my father had designed was the same, but the atmosphere was alien. Under an assumed name and the guise of a fresh-faced intern, | was invisible, a ghost in my own house. To complete the disguise, | wore what | had worn on the day | first met Adler-a simple white blouse and a navy blue A-line skirt, my hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. It was the uniform of the eager, naive girl | used to be. The irony was not lost on me. My new supervisor, a harassed-looking woman named Carol, barely glanced at me as she pointed to a cramped cubicle in the corner. "You can sit there. Try to stay out of the way." | had just set my bag down when a familiar, grating laugh echoed through the open-plan office. | looked up and my blood ran cold. Juliana Pitts was holding court by the coffee machine, perched on the edge of a desk as if it were her throne. She was surrounded by a sycophantic circle of junior designers, all laughing too loudly at whatever she had just said. She was ---- dressed in a ridiculously expensive designer suit, looking less like an architect and more like she was about to attend a polo match. She was wearing the title of "Design Department Supervisor." Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me. A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. She sauntered over, the fawning employees trailing in her wake. "Well, well, well," she purred, stopping in front of my desk. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or should | say, what crawled back from the gutter." She held up her left hand, flashing a diamond ring so large it was vulgar. It was easily twice the size of the one Adler had given me. "Adler proposed," she announced to the room at large. "We're getting married as soon as his tacky little divorce is finalized." | felt nothing. No jealousy, no pain. Just a tired sort of pity. Let them have each other. They deserved it. "Trying to recapture your youth, Harper?" Juliana continued, her voice dripping with scorn as she eyed my simple outfit. "Or are you hoping this pathetic little costume will remind Adler of the good old days? Trying to win him back? It's pathetic." The circle of employees snickered. One of them, a young woman with too much makeup, pointed at my hands. | wore thin, white cotton gloves to cover the still-healing burns. ---- "What's with the gloves?" she sneered. "Trying to hide how old and wrinkled your hands are?" The burns were a constant, throbbing reminder of Adler and Juliana's cruelty. The doctors had said the nerve damage was severe. | might never be able to hold a drafting pencil properly again. The scars weren't just on my skin; they were a brand on my future, a physical manifestation of the career they had stolen from me. But those scars were also a promise. A promise of what | would do to them | ignored her. My gaze was fixed on Juliana. "So, you're the supervisor here now," | said, my voice calm. "Impressive. What are your qualifications, exactly? Besides sleeping with the boss?" Juliana's face flushed an ugly shade of red. "How dare you! At least | have a boss to sleep with. Who do you have?" "She's right," one of her cronies chimed in. "The new General Manager is a genius. He's turned this whole company around since the old Griffins... you know." A cold dread began to creep up my spine. "New General Manager?" | asked, keeping my voice even. "Whois thenew GM?" Juliana's smirk returned, triumphant and cruel. "Why, my fiancé, of course," she said, her voice filled with venomous glee. "Adler Irwin. Your ex-husband is now your boss. And my ---- future husband. Life is funny, isn't it?" The world seemed to tilt. He had taken over my father's company. He had installed his mistress in a position of power. He wasn't just content to drain the company's finances; he was systematically replacing my family's legacy with his own corrupt empire, right under my nose. This wasn't just about money. This was about erasure. He was trying to wipe the Griffin family off the map. The cold calm | had cultivated for weeks shattered, replaced by a white-hot rage that threatened to consume me. He wouldn't just go to prison. | would make sure he watched every single thing he had built crumble into dust before | sent him there. "Since you're the new intern," Juliana said, snapping her fingers at me as if | were a dog, "your first task is to clean the executive bathrooms. All of them. They're filthy." The circle of employees laughed, their derision washing over me. But | wasn't listening to them. | was listening to the sound of Adler's empire beginning to crack.