At the class reunion, the president poured water for every single classmate. Everyone except me.

I figured she'd just overlooked me, so I reached for a cup myself.

A hand pressed down over mine before I could touch it.

"This is expensive vintage wine I brought. A broke man's wife doesn't get to drink it."

The bag I'd grabbed on my way out that morning was worth ten million. I blinked, lost, and pointed at myself.

"A broke man's wife? Me?"

"Carrying a cheap knockoff, and still trying to pass yourself off as some rich wife?"

Muriel Sanchez, who'd always looked down on me, pulled out a video with a smirk.

"If I hadn't happened to run into you and your husband the other day, I'd have actually fallen for that pretty little life you post about online."

In the video I was bare-faced, in a gray set of house clothes.

And the husband strolling beside me was in a plain pair of cargo shorts, flip-flops on his feet.

That was all it took. The room broke into jeers.

"Yeah, that's a broke guy if I ever saw one. Dresses like a homeless man."

"Daniela Henson, honestly, if you hadn't been our campus beauty back in the day, we wouldn't have even bothered inviting you."

"Right? So she was pretty once, so she was the campus beauty, so what? She still didn't marry as well as Muriel."

"Muriel's husband built everything from nothing, and now he runs a huge company. That's what you call landing the best life there is."

The flattery kept coming.

And Muriel only grew more pleased with herself.

"Look at that broke husband of yours. Bet he can't even hold down a job, right?"

"Funny thing, my husband's company, Sheridan Group, is hiring security guards right now. How about it? For old times' sake, I could put in a word for him."

I frowned. Since when did the company I built with my own hands belong to her husband?

"What's your husband's name?"

Muriel practically glowed.

"Listen closely. My husband is the general manager of Sheridan Group. Russell Henson."

Russell Henson?

Wasn't that the employee my husband mentioned a few days ago, the one he called reasonably hardworking and diligent?

The subordinate who only made general manager after I gave the nod?

——

Then again, Sheridan Group was huge, more than five thousand employees.

I wasn't sure the one just promoted to general manager was really named Russell Henson, so I sent my husband a text to check.

A moment later, Austin Delgado replied instantly.

"Yeah, honey, that's Russell Henson."

"You never ask about the people working under you. What's got you so interested in this guy today?"

I could feel the jealousy spike through the screen.

"Don't tell me you've taken a liking to him?"

I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

But to them, that little gesture looked like guilt.

Muriel's mocking voice came again, smug as ever.

"Daniela Henson, why'd you go quiet? Don't tell me I hit the nail on the head?"

"Back then you were Ashford University's cold, aloof campus beauty. Too good for everyone, big eyes and no follow-through."

"All these years later, I thought for sure you'd have married some tycoon. Never expected you'd fall for a poor nobody like that."

"Or maybe none of those guys chasing you ever measured up,"

"so you dragged it out until you were too old, couldn't get married at all, and finally got so desperate you just grabbed the worst option you could find."

The second Muriel said it, laughter erupted all around.

They looked at me with every kind of amused, needling stare.

As if one line from Muriel had settled it for all of them, that I'd sunk so low the only man I could marry was a broke slob.

"No wonder you've all been throwing barbs since the second I walked in. So this is what you were waiting here for."

"Since I'm not welcome, I'll go, then."

I picked up my bag and stood to leave.

That mocking voice reached my ears again.

"Daniela, I never imagined you'd be doing this badly."

"We're all old classmates. If you've hit some kind of rough patch, you can always come to me for help!"

"After all, you were my goddess once. I couldn't just stand by and watch you drown."

I frowned and couldn't help glancing back.

"Oh, so it's you. The one who chased me and got nowhere, so he threw a fit about it."

Tony Fox flushed with anger in an instant. "You—"

He forced the rage down, pushed his glasses up, straightened his suit, and sat back down.

"I won't stoop to your level."

"Daniela, what have you got to be so smug about? Fine, you were pretty back then. But over the years I've seen plenty of women."

He suddenly pulled out a business card and held it out to me from above.

"I've got no real faults, except that I'm sentimental."

"Plenty of beautiful women out there line up to chase me, but I can't be bothered to spare them a glance."

"Daniela, why not dump that broke husband of yours and come to me instead? What do you say?"

I gave a cold laugh and said nothing, but the jeering started up around me.

"Mr. Fox really is devoted!"

"I hear you've done pretty well these years, Mr. Fox. That Rolls-Royce downstairs is yours, isn't it?"

"Oh, we really do envy you, Daniela. Fancy having such good luck with men."

Tony basked in it until he was practically floating, while I felt sick enough to throw up.

Rotten luck like this, and you're offering it to me.

Seeing me scoff in contempt.

Tony's face changed. "Daniela, what's that smile supposed to mean?"

He shoved the card into my hand.

"Back then it was you aiming too high, looking down on me."

"Now I make fifty thousand a month, at least. Better than that broke husband of yours by God knows how much."

"Marry me and I'll set you up with the best of everything. Bags, clothes, buy whatever you want. That's the kind of good life you wouldn't even dare dream of now."

"I suggest you think it over carefully."

"Only fifty thousand a month."

I bit back a laugh, raised an eyebrow, and looked him over in that suit that made him look like something he wasn't.

"Talking that big, anyone who didn't know would think you made five million a month."

"Even now, you're not good enough for me."

The moment those words were out, the room erupted.

Everyone was shocked and sneering at once.

"Daniela, we're all classmates. We all know exactly where each other stands."

"No wonder you're doing so badly now. All that pride hasn't done you any favors."

Muriel listened to the jeering and smiled wider and wider.

She even sat down right beside me, all warmth and closeness.

"Daniela, nobody means any harm. We're thinking of you."

"Look at how badly you're getting by. Why not go be Mr. Fox's mistress? All you'd have to do is freshen up each day, and you wouldn't have to live so hard anymore."

"We call that keeping the good stuff in the family!"

The more they said, the more outrageous it got. I let out a cold, incredulous laugh.

"Well, thank you all so much for that."

I didn't want to spend another second there. I grabbed my bag to leave, but a hand pinned it down.

"Oh my, isn't that the newest bag from Jarvis Boyd?"

"I hear a genuine one costs ten million. Daniela, how do you have the nerve to walk around flaunting a fake like this?"

Her hand rubbed hard against my bag. I frowned and snatched it back.

"I don't carry fakes. I never have."

The laughter around me only swelled.

"Did you all hear what Daniela just said? She said she never carries fakes. Ha!"

"Don't tell me you're about to claim that bag is a genuine Jarvis Boyd."

"That exact model runs into the millions. You think that trash-picking bum of a husband could ever buy it for you?"

"Or maybe you're going to tell us he fished it out of a dumpster while he was digging through the garbage—some rich lady's castoff."

"And that outfit of yours, too. Looks like it's supposed to be the newest line from the designer house. Five million a set."

"You really do love your knockoffs, don't you? Vain to death. If you can't afford it, don't buy it. Would it kill you to keep a low profile?"

Muriel stood with her arms crossed, her whole face twisted into that snide, sing-song contempt.

"That's right, Daniela. Everyone's got it dead-on."

"Even if life's hard for you, there's no need to be this vain. You really thought showing up to a class reunion with a fake bag would make people look at you differently? Nobody here is stupid."

I almost laughed from sheer anger, sweeping a cold look across them.

"Have any of you actually seen the world? What makes you so sure the bag I'm carrying is a fake?"

Even a professional authenticator wouldn't dare declare something fake on sight.

It takes specialized equipment before a verdict can be reached.

But the moment the words left my mouth, it hit me.

They didn't care in the slightest whether my bag was real or fake. They just wanted an excuse to sneer and take a jab at me.

I'd been naive, holding on to some old sense of classmate loyalty, coming to this reunion at all.

I never imagined that from the very start it had been a trap they'd set and dressed up as a friendly gathering.

"If it isn't fake, then what, it's real?"

Muriel waved the clip in her hand.

"Look at that dingy loungewear you've got on."

"You have to wear your pajamas just to leave the house. Can't even afford to live anymore, can you?"

I turned and glanced at the video.

I really hadn't done my makeup that day I went shopping—bare face, and I'd just thrown on that gray loungewear and walked out the door.

But not one person here knew the real thing when they saw it.

That gray loungewear may have looked low-key and unremarkable, but it was a top-tier custom piece, made by a professional overseas designer, with the base model worth a million.

That shopping trip was only the third time I'd worn it.

"If you're really short on clothes, I've got a whole sack of old ones I've thrown out. I could just give them to you—call it charity."

I let out a cold laugh.

"If any of you actually knew the real thing, you wouldn't say something so ignorant."

"Well, today I've certainly seen all of you for what you are."

"From here on, we go our separate ways. Don't come looking for me."

"Stop right there. Did I say you could leave?"

Muriel rose to her feet and looked down at me.

"We all agreed to come to this reunion, and that means we play until we're satisfied. Nobody leaves sober."

"And you're just going to make a face and walk out on us like this?"

"Wouldn't that be slapping the face of every classmate here?"

With Muriel leading the way, the others got up as well and closed in around me.

Very much with the air of not letting me leave.

I smiled. "What exactly do you want?"

Muriel picked up a bottle, set out nine glasses in front of me, and filled every one to the brim.

"Drink all of these."

"And we'll let you go."

I ran my eyes over the filled glasses, my expression giving nothing away.

Even that bottle Muriel had just taken from the liquor cabinet was specially mixed, extremely high-proof.

In the instant I lowered my head, Muriel mouthed something to Tony Fox at her side.