The Fake Heiress's Backlash

The solid wood office door slammed open with a loud bang. Anna Hall stormed in, her seven-centimeter red heels striking the marble floor with a sharp "thud," piercing the quiet space. Her face stretched into an almost grotesque, exaggerated smile. She tightly gripped a folded DNA test report, holding it high like a priceless treasure. "Jessica Scott! Jessica, look at this!" Anna hurried over to my office desk, her voice bursting with uncontrollable excitement and pride. "Do you know? I am the biological daughter of Henry Hall, chairman of Hall Takeout Group! His real daughter!" The pen in my hand hesitated slightly, ink dropping onto the pristine white contract paper and spreading into a small black blot. I slowly raised my head and looked at my assistant, who had been with me for three years, my expression calm and unreadable. "So, what now?" My tone was as neutral as if I were discussing today's weather, with no hint of surprise or envy. Anna Hall's smile faltered momentarily; she hadn't expected this reaction from me. She straightened her back, hands on her hips, looking down at me seated in the chair. In that single moment, she had shifted from a submissive assistant to a queen perched on a throne. "So what?" She sneered, her voice full of disdain, "So I don't have to be your lousy assistant anymore! Jessica Scott, now that you see the truth, I'm the real heiress of a wealthy family. From now on, you need to look up to me!" As she spoke, she took out her cell phone from a limited-edition designer bag, swiftly scrolling through the screen. Then she opened a photo and slammed it down on my office desk. In the photo, she was tightly embracing a familiar figure, both of them smiling warmly. It was none other than my husband, Mike Young. "And another thing," Anna Hall leaned in close, lowering her voice with a sharp mix of challenge and satisfaction, "Mike and I have been together for a long time. He's always loved me—marrying you was just a temporary arrangement." My heart felt like it had been smashed by a blunt instrument, a rush of sharp pain spreading through me, making it difficult to breathe. I clenched my hand into a tight fist beneath the table, my nails nearly digging into my flesh. "What did you say?" I forced the tremor out of my voice, struggling to sound composed. "I'm telling you, Mike and I truly love each other," Anna Hall said with an even bigger, triumphant smile, her eyes and brows full of smugness. "He'll file for divorce today, and soon, I'll take your place as the legitimate wife." No sooner had she finished than my cell phone rang, the screen flashing Mike Young's name, as if to confirm Anna's claim. I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button, forcing my voice to stay steady: "Hello?" "Jessica Scott, let's get a divorce." Mike Young's voice came through the phone, without a hint of hesitation or lingering warmth—cold as stone. "Why?" I heard my voice trembling slightly, as the last shred of hope inside me slowly slipped away. "No reason," Mike said indifferently. "The feelings are gone. Staying together doesn't make sense anymore." He paused, as if rehearsed, then added, "I've settled the property. You'll leave empty-handed. You don't get to take anything from the house." I gripped my cell phone tightly, my knuckles whitening from the pressure, even going a bit numb. "Mike, don't forget," I said, my voice tinged with barely hidden anger, "this company was built through our joint efforts—half of it is my hard work. Why should I walk away empty-handed?" "So what?" Suddenly, Anna's arrogant voice cut through the line—she'd clearly snatched the phone from Mike. "Mike belongs to me now, so the company is ours! Jessica, be smart and pack your things. Get out of here before you become a nuisance!" With a sharp 'click,' the call was abruptly cut off. I gripped my cell phone, sitting stunned in my chair, unable to collect myself for a long time. Outside the window, the streets were crowded and noisy with heavy traffic, but inside, my heart felt ice-cold, as if I'd fallen into a bottomless abyss. Three years of marriage, going from nothing to modest success. Three years of relentless work, day and night, only to end like this. My husband's betrayal, my assistant's treachery—they teamed up to drive me into a dead end. I took a deep breath and slowly closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the confusion and pain in my gaze had been replaced by a firm determination. I'm Jessica Scott, not some pushover to be toyed with. If you think you can make me leave empty-handed, think again. This show is just getting started. Let's see how long they can stay smug.