My new colleague, Chloe, dropped a screenshot in the company Slack channel.

It was a Met Gala invitation from the chairman.

With a note attached: “To my dearest daughter.”

She deleted it moments later with a quick, “Sorry, wrong channel!”

I frowned, instantly recognizing it. It was the one my father had sent me a week ago.

The colleagues who caught it started buzzing immediately.

“I heard the chairman’s daughter, who’s never been seen in public, is on bad terms with him.”

“So the heiress has been slumming it with the rest of us. We were so blind!” The channel was instantly flooded with fawning messages. Even my social-climbing husband, Ethan, joined in.

I couldn’t stop myself. I typed into the channel: “I happen to recall the chairman has always disliked ostentation.”

I received no support. Instead, my husband and the others piled on.

“Look at you, green with envy. How can you even compare to Chloe? Why did I marry someone so pathetic?”

“Like you’d know the chairman personally! You’re just jealous!”

I scoffed.

In full view of everyone in the office, I dialed my father's personal assistant.

“Alfred, I hear Dad's plus-one for the Met Gala this year… isn’t me?”

————————

1

A new hire, Chloe Summers, joined the company. On her first day, she dropped a screenshot in the Slack channel.

It was a Met Gala invitation from the chairman.

The entire channel instantly lit up. “Oh my God! A Met Gala invitation?”

Chloe quickly deleted the screenshot and apologized, “So sorry, total accident. Posted in the wrong chat.”

She followed up with a string of apologetic emojis. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She capped it all off with a single, teary-eyed emoji. From that moment on, everyone in the company knew Chloe’s name.

“Is that an invitation from Chairman Sterling?”

“Good heavens, so this is the chairman’s legendary daughter we’re dealing with.”

“Rumor has it William Sterling is passing the company to his daughter soon.”

“Could Chloe be Chairman Sterling’s daughter?”

“The New York elite circle is tiny. This can’t be a coincidence.”

“The Met Gala! I could work my whole life and never even get close to something like that.”

The Slack channel exploded, hundreds of messages flooding the screen.

Chloe, sitting at the desk across from me, watched the feed with a self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

After a long moment, she replied in the channel: “I can’t reveal my identity just yet, but I can say one thing—I took my mother’s surname. Please keep this quiet. If my dad finds out my identity has been exposed, he’ll be upset.”

It wasn’t a denial. In everyone’s eyes, it was a confirmation.

I had no intention of getting involved, but the channel was so frenzied that even my husband, Ethan Vance, chimed in, jokingly begging to ride the “heiress’s” coattails.

I pretended not to care, but my hands trembled under my desk. Affection for sale is the cheapest kind.

I zoomed in on the screenshot Chloe had shared. That invitation was identical to the one my father had sent me last week.

Just as I was about to challenge her in the channel, I was interrupted.

Ethan placed several cups of coffee on a nearby table, carefully selected one, and wiped the condensation from the cup before presenting it to Chloe.

Chloe took a sip and grimaced. “What is this garbage? Don’t bring me this swill ever again.”

Ethan froze, but shockingly, he didn’t fly into the rage he would at home. Instead, he practically bowed as he apologized, “My mistake, I should have known better. Someone like you deserves much higher quality!”

Bitterness churned in my stomach. At home, he complains if I ask him to do a single load of laundry.

I couldn’t stand Chloe’s smug act any longer. I spoke up, my voice calm. “Chloe, which designer are you planning to wear on the red carpet?”

The bustling office fell silent in an instant.

Chloe glared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you implying my invitation is fake?” she snapped.

“Do I need to wear it around my neck to prove it’s mine?”

Sensing Chloe’s anger, Ethan jumped in. “Ava, stop making a scene. What is your problem?”

My colleagues quickly took her side.

“Some people have a lot of nerve, questioning someone over a single screenshot.”

“Exactly, Chloe shared it by accident—it’s not like she was showing off.”

“Ava, if you’re so jealous, why don’t you go get an invitation yourself?”

“Not that someone like you would ever get the chance.”

Chloe was dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, the picture of elegance. In contrast, I was in a simple, understated outfit.

Chloe turned to me, her voice dripping with false magnanimity. “Thank you, everyone, for defending me. Ava must be curious because she’s never seen anything like this. It’s only natural to have questions.”

“For my sake, can we please just let it go?”

With that, Ethan’s face darkened, a flush of secondhand embarrassment creeping up his neck.

What a joke. Here I was, the true heiress to Sterling Media, being publicly shamed in my own company.

Starting from the bottom and hiding my identity was my plan to learn the ropes and understand every facet of the business.

Judging by Chloe’s taste and attire, she didn’t come from a poor background. She must have gone to a lot of trouble to get her hands on my invitation and pass herself off as me.

An idea sparked. Playing innocent, I said, “You’re right. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Chloe, why don’t you host a fitting party before the Gala? You could give the rest of us a glimpse into that world.”

My colleagues’ eyes lit up with excitement, while the color drained from Chloe’s face.

“Yes, Chloe, let us come see!”

“A top-tier red-carpet gown—if I miss this, I might never see one in my life.”

My colleagues swarmed Chloe, their faces alight with anticipation.

Chloe struggled to compose herself, her voice trembling slightly. “The designer's still in Paris and the dress hasn't arrived. It's not a good time.”

Sensing her panic, I pressed on. “What, are you looking down on us? You think we’re not worthy of seeing your haute couture gown?”

“Or is it that the invitation isn’t really yours, so you can’t?”

The questions hung in the air, sharp and pointed.

Even the colleagues who had been fawning over Chloe began to look uncertain.

Chloe probably never imagined she’d be putting on a show for the real heiress on her very first day.

Just as I thought her facade was about to crumble, our department director, Jessica, strode into the office. The moment she saw Chloe, she linked arms with her like a long-lost sister.

“Chloe, why didn’t you tell me you were coming in? What’s all this? Is someone giving you trouble?”

Jessica’s tone was inquisitive, but her words were aimed squarely at me. “Ava, I know your marriage is a mess and you're stuck with a loser husband, but don't project your jealousy onto everyone else.”

“Chloe’s red-carpet look? I personally heard the chairman on the phone with Vogue’s editor-in-chief discussing it. How could it be fake? If Chloe lets this go, it’s out of generosity. But if you keep this up, I’ll have to recommend your termination to senior management.”

With Jessica’s public endorsement, our colleagues immediately fell back in line behind Chloe.

“Ava, don’t drag us all down with your jealousy.”

“We never doubted Chloe for a second.”

Chloe, feigning magnanimity, said nonchalantly, “Since Jessica has spoken, I’ll just pretend this never happened. But you should remember, Ava, not everyone is as tolerant as I am.”

Her words made my accusations look like a joke. What a performance, the two of them in perfect sync. There was no point in being the lone villain, so I dropped it.

But Chloe’s supporters wouldn't let it go, rehashing what I’d said in the employee group chat.

Some employees tagged me relentlessly, hurling insults. Others, lost in the fantasy of the fitting party, pestered Chloe about when they could come.

A short while later, Chloe posted a throwback photo on Instagram with a well-known designer, reaping a fresh wave of praise and envy. She promised to invite everyone to a celebration after the Gala.

Across the room, Ethan immediately pulled out his phone and followed Chloe on Raya.

“We’re going to my parents’ for dinner this weekend. You promised me last week,” I said, handing Ethan his freshly ironed suit.

Ethan stood before the mirror, adjusting his tie. “Did I?” Without another word, he turned and left the house.

My parents lived in a duplex penthouse on Fifth Avenue, where access to most of the building was restricted. Downstairs, my family’s head butler, Alfred, was waiting with a fleet of Cadillacs to pick me up.

The penthouse was one of the most valuable properties in New York City, often rumored to be priceless. It was, in fact, my family’s.

I had originally planned to reveal my identity to Ethan today. Clearly, he wasn’t worthy.

A notification popped up on my phone. My new colleague, Chloe, had posted an update.

In the photo, Chloe stood confidently in a luxurious designer outfit, while my husband trailed behind her, laden with shopping bags from high-end brands. The look on his face was a miserable mix of exhaustion and adulation.

After dinner with my parents, Alfred drove me back to my apartment as usual.

“Miss, you own so many properties. Why do you insist on living in this cramped, old apartment?” Alfred’s bewilderment mirrored my father’s own confusion about my marriage to Ethan.

“Cramped? This apartment is in a prime downtown Manhattan location. More importantly, it’s close to the office.”

This apartment was the main reason Ethan had been so eager to marry me right after graduation.

“Miss, this is a gift from your father. The family heirloom, the ‘Star of Sterling’ diamond necklace, valued at 25 million dollars. He said the Met Gala invitation was too pedestrian and that this was a more fitting gift.”

Alfred respectfully opened the velvet box, revealing the necklace. I glanced at it. The diamonds were dazzling.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. I locked it in the safe, and between work and everything else, I forgot all about it—until a week later, when Chloe walked into the office wearing my necklace.

“Chloe, your necklace is gorgeous! It must have cost a fortune.”

“Of course! Everything Chloe wears is beyond our reach.”

“I’ve seen that in a magazine. It’s the ‘Star of Sterling.’ It’s worth 25 million dollars.”

“Wait, are you saying that necklace is worth 25 million?”

“Oh my God, she’s just casually wearing a mansion around her neck.”

Chloe sauntered into the office and placed her latest designer handbag conspicuously on her desk.

The brilliant diamonds sparkled against her skin.

A few eagle-eyed colleagues immediately gathered around to shower her with compliments. Their chatter drifted over to me, and I looked up to see the familiar necklace draped around Chloe’s neck.

Isn’t that my necklace? I thought, confused. I locked it in the safe myself. How could she possibly have it?

“Ava, stop dreaming,” Ethan sneered from across the aisle. “Take a good look at yourself. Do you really think you could ever afford something like that?”

“And where did that necklace come from?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “I think you know the answer to that better than anyone.”

“This necklace was a gift from Ethan,” Chloe replied with a sweet, mocking laugh. “He didn’t tell me the price, but if I’d known it was this cheap, I wouldn’t have worn it.” She knew exactly where it came from and was deliberately flaunting it.

I immediately had Alfred pull up the security footage from my apartment.

The video showed Ethan sneaking into our home while I was working late. He opened the safe and took the ‘Star of Sterling’ necklace. Then he raided my walk-in closet, grabbing several of my Hermès Birkin bags.

Chloe’s post from yesterday suddenly made sense. She was showing off the spoils of my husband’s theft.

My colleagues, oblivious to the truth, were still fawning over Ethan.

“Ethan must come from money! He’s been holding out on us.”

“I told you all Ethan lived in that luxury downtown complex, but no one believed me.”

“Since you’ve been keeping it a secret, Ethan, you owe us a big meal!”

Ethan, blushing from the praise, ordered catering for the entire office from Per Se, the city’s most exclusive three-Michelin-starred restaurant—for everyone but me.

Without a second thought, I froze Ethan’s black card. He remained completely unaware, preening in his moment of glory.

Let’s see how you’re going to pay for this, I thought.