Kayla woke up with a sense of rebirth, like something inside her had come back to life.

That morning, she passed the evidence to her friends, ready to deal the final blow to those who had wronged her. It was her turn to make them pay and she wasn’t holding back.

Later, she went to a tattoo shop to cover the scars she had been carrying.

A phoenix, symbolizing hope and new beginnings, was inked on the scar on her clavicle. She felt a little lighter, like the past was finally behind her.

When Kayla got home, she saw them—Lionel, Stephanie and her father—all sitting around the table, eating together. She wasn’t in the mood to join them. Just the thought of sitting at that table made her sick.

She turned to leave and head upstairs, but Lionel called out. “Hey, come eat something. I’ll get you some bread.”

Kayla looked at the plate and spoon on the table. Her heart skipped and for a second, she almost let herself feel like it was the old days. But things were different now.

Five years ago, Lionel would’ve done whatever it took to take care of her. But now, he was busy with someone else.

“No thanks, I already ate outside,” she replied, her tone flat.

Stephanie snickered. “Let her be. She still thinks she’s all that. Does she?”

Lionel stared after Kayla as she walked away, a little confused.

Something had changed. She wasn’t the same, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Maybe she didn’t smile like she used to. Maybe there was something else going on that he didn’t understand.

Then, a loud squeal snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Ah! Isn’t this the dress I wanted? Thank you, Lionel!” Stephanie held up the dress, practically dancing with excitement.

“Your birthday’s in two days, right? This is my gift for you.” Lionel’s voice was soft, his smile warm as he watched Stephanie spin around, holding the dress to her chest. “As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

From the corridor, Kayla stood frozen, the scene cutting through her like glass. It was hard to look away. Then Lionel glanced over and spotted her, his expression shifting.

“Stephanie’s birthday is coming up,” he said, as if an explanation was necessary. “This is for her.”

Stephanie carefully placed the gown back in its box, then threw Kayla a glance, casual but pointed.

“Do you know how long this dress takes to get? A whole year! Lionel’s amazing—he always knows how to make my birthdays special.” Her tone dripped with pride and the corner of her mouth curved just enough to make her point.

Kayla’s mind drifted, unbidden, to birthdays past. Back when her mother and Skippy were alive, the house would be full of laughter, the air rich with the smell of cakes and flowers. Lionel used to go all out—truckloads of blooms, extravagant gestures, everything just to see her smile.

And then came prison. Birthdays became just another day in a gray cell.

At first, she thought Lionel might visit, that maybe he hadn’t completely forgotten. But he hadn’t forgotten. He just had other priorities.

Stephanie’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Oh, Kayla, don’t forget—Lionel’s throwing me a birthday party in a few days. Businesspeople, influencers, you know the crowd. You should come. I’ll even introduce you to someone who might have a job for you.”

Her smile was bright, her tone sweet, but her eyes danced with mockery.

Kayla’s lips parted to decline, but Lionel spoke first. “Of course, Kayla will be there,” he said smoothly. “She’ll come to support you.”

Kayla’s jaw tightened as she stared at Lionel, then Stephanie. He knew she hated these events, hated the pretense and posturing of high society.

Once upon a time, it had been her world too—luxurious parties, polished smiles, endless connections. But now? That world felt hollow, like an echo of a life that wasn’t hers anymore.

‘Why should I need to play along now just because of Stephanie?’ Kayla thought. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words lingered unspoken as she decided against it.

Two days later, at the party, Stephanie was in her element. She wore the limited-edition dress Lionel had gifted her, glowing under the lights as guests showered her with attention.

Her laugh was bright, her smile magnetic, she looked every bit the centerpiece. Even Lionel, in his perfectly tailored suit, stood beside her like a proud accessory.

Kayla stayed in the background, sipping her wine in quiet observation. She wasn’t in the mood for theatrics, but Stephanie had other plans.

Spotting Kayla from across the room, she strutted over, her eyes locking on the sleek black dress Kayla wore.

For a moment, Stephanie’s expression faltered when she noticed the phoenix tattoo on Kayla’s collarbone, the symbol bold and unapologetic.

Then her gaze flicked back to the dress and a sneer replaced her hesitation. “Oh, my God,” Stephanie said, loud enough to draw a few curious glances. “You’re seriously wearing that here? A fake, no less.”

Kayla’s brow lifted as she swirled her glass, unfazed by Stephanie’s theatrics. But Stephanie wasn’t done.

“You do realize this crowd will see through it in a second, right? Don’t humiliate yourself. Lionel went through so much to get that dress for me and failed, yet you think you can waltz in wearing a knockoff?”

The whispers started—small, sharp and traveling fast. Kayla stayed quiet, watching Stephanie soak in the attention.

“I mean, come on, Kayla,” Stephanie continued, her voice dripping with mockery. “Where would you even get the money? Didn’t you just get out of prison?”

Kayla finally looked up, meeting Stephanie’s smug gaze with an unbothered calm. Her lips curved slightly as she raised her glass.

“Fake?” she said lightly. “Just because you couldn’t get it doesn’t make it fake.”

The room went still for a beat, Stephanie’s face flushing with anger. Her triumph flickered, replaced by uncertainty as Kayla’s cool confidence silenced the murmurs around them.

Kayla swirled the wine in her glass, her lips brushing the edge as she took a small sip.

She glanced at Stephanie, her voice steady but laced with sharpness. "Where did I get the money? Funny, you’re spending my money, aren’t you?"

Stephanie’s confident smirk wavered.

Kayla leaned back slightly, her tone casual but cutting. "Let’s not rewrite history here. The Sutton Family, the company, it was all built on what I handled. After Mom passed, I ran everything. Dad may have played his part, but every major deal? That was me."

She let her words sink in before adding, "And in the five years I’ve been gone? Sutton Group hasn’t moved forward at all. It’s still coasting on the work I left behind. Without me, it would’ve folded by now."

Stephanie’s cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, but she stomped her foot, raising her voice to drown out the growing whispers. "What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think Dad and I didn’t do anything for this family?"

Kayla didn’t blink. "You want the truth? You didn’t."

Stephanie’s eyes widened in shock. She clenched her fists, clearly struggling to maintain her composure. "Kayla, don’t act so high and mighty. You were the one who went to jail! Dad and I kept the company running while you were gone. Everyone knows that!"

Kayla raised an eyebrow, her calm demeanor unshaken. "Everyone knows, huh?" She placed her glass down slowly, her voice lowering but no less lethal. "Do they also know about you cozying up to the head of our rival company at that café last week?"

The color drained from Stephanie’s face. She stumbled a step back, her confident facade shattering. "You—you don’t know what you’re talking about!" she stammered, her voice pitched with panic.

Kayla tilted her head slightly, her eyes locking onto Stephanie’s with a calm, knowing gaze. "Don’t I?"

The crowd around them erupted in hushed murmurs and Stephanie’s frantic glances at the onlookers only made her guilt more obvious.

"Kayla, I know you're upset about the company, but you don’t have to take it out on me." Stephanie’s voice trembled, tears pooling in her eyes.

"This title is nothing. If it means so much to you, I’ll give it back." She looked at Lionel, seeking reassurance, her eyes red.

Lionel’s brow furrowed as he turned to Kayla. "Kayla, Stephanie is just trying to help. If there’s an issue, we can handle it at home. Was it really necessary to make a scene here?"

Kayla’s chest tightened as she stared at the man who was supposed to have her back. Her husband. And yet, he stood there defending someone else, like she was the outsider.

"Wasn’t she the one who embarrassed me first?" Kayla snapped, her voice cold and steady.

Lionel didn’t answer her. Instead, he gently brushed away Stephanie’s tears, ignoring Kayla entirely. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, but it still stung like it was.

"As my husband, shouldn’t you be on my side, not someone else’s? Or does that no longer matter to you?" she asked, her words laced with bitterness.

Lionel’s reply was sharp. "She’s not someone else, she’s your sister. Everything I do is for your own good."

Kayla’s lips curved into a hollow smile. ‘For my good? That’s a joke. Was it for my good when you let them put me in prison? When you let her take my life and twist it into hers?’

"I’m sorry," Stephanie interjected, her tone soft but smug. "This is all my fault. Don’t be mad at Lionel."

Kayla’s gaze flicked between the two of them—the doting husband, the tearful victim. It was pathetic. And somehow, she was the villain here.

She laughed quietly, but it held no humor. "You two deserve each other," she muttered before walking away.

By the time she got home, the anger had dulled into exhaustion. She kicked off her heels, wincing as the blisters on her feet throbbed.

Picking one up, she turned it over, her eyes landing on the size stamped on the sole. Too small. Of course, it was.

Kayla stared at the shoes in her hands, her fingers brushing over the delicate straps. She was size 8. Of course, they didn’t fit.

Lionel had handed them to her in a rush before the party, saying, “New shoes for a new path.”

She wanted to laugh. The same man who once bought her slippers because he couldn’t bear to see her in heels for too long had suddenly forgotten her size?

Her eyes narrowed. These weren’t bought for her at all. These were Stephanie’s castoffs. The realization hit like a slap.

‘Scraps. He gave me scraps.’

With a sharp breath, Kayla stood, grabbed the shoes and walked straight to the trash can. She didn’t hesitate, tossing them in like they were garbage—because that was exactly what they were.

Things that didn’t fit should’ve been thrown away a long time ago. Just like people who didn’t belong.

By evening, her phone buzzed. Messages from Stephanie lit up the screen. [Kayla, you know now, Lionel loves me.]

Attached were two photos and a video. The photos were enough. Stephanie and Lionel, cozy in bed together. Kayla didn’t need to open the video to guess what it contained.

Another message followed:

[While you were locked up, he shared my bed.]

[You’re nothing now, just a penniless ex-con. What gives you the right to fight me?]

[If you want to stay in the Sutton Family, I’d suggest you behave.]

Kayla stared at the screen, her face blank, her heart aching. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This wasn’t the first time Stephanie had tried to rub her smugness in her face. But this time, it didn’t sting the way it used to.

This time, it fueled her.

She picked up her phone and made a call.

“Mr. Louis, it’s Kayla,” she said, her voice cool and composed. “Please execute the additional clause in my mother’s will.”

“Ms. Sutton, are you sure about this?”

“I am,” she replied without hesitation.

She ended the call and set her phone down. Kayla leaned back, a small, resolute smile tugging at her lips. The game was finally about to change.