The mob looked at me like I had spoken the wrong language.

I kept going.

"With one condition: the work I have already finished, I am tearing it out. Floors, walls, fixtures, the whole renovation.

"If you agree, sign in. I'll send a crew tonight."

Mrs. Walters lit up. "Annie Lane, are you deaf? We just want the difference back. Nobody said anything about tearing out a house."

I almost laughed.

"Mrs. Walters, the unit you live in is the one I designed. I think the design is worth what I charged.

"Every material on that bill came from a factory I sourced directly. I have the receipts. If you want a refund, I take back what I installed and give you the money. There is no middle option."

The phrase 'full refund' landed. The faces relaxed half an inch. Then the next set of objections came.

"You can't just tear my house up and tell me where to live. My family has nowhere to go."

"Annie, we're asking you to give back what you took. We're not asking you to wreck the place."

I knew this town. Once I went soft, every problem the building had for the next five years was going to land on me.

I picked up my phone and held it up.

"You all signed contracts with my studio. I have receipts for every material and every labor hour. If we go to the police, you don't get the difference back. You don't get anything back. Tearing it out is the offer."

I stole a glance at the chat scrolling on Crystal's livestream. The comments had shifted from where they had been in the prior life.

[Honestly, the woman is being patient. she's offering refunds.]

[Full refund means they have to gut it. Fair enough.]

[I don't know about renovation prices, but 80k for a full eighty-square-meter unit doesn't sound crazy.]

Crystal saw the chat too. She caught Mrs. Walters by the wrist and softened her voice.

"It's all right. Tear it out. I will redo your renovation for twenty thousand.

"Think about it, you walk away with sixty thousand in your pocket. Renting a place for a while won't cost much compared to that."

A woman near the back hesitated. "Twenty thousand? Are you sure?"

Crystal slapped her chest. "I grew up in this town. Why would I lie to you? I learned the entire renovation supply chain in college. I have direct contracts with major brands. Hard finishes, soft finishes. Twenty thousand, all in."

She did not forget to take a jab at me.

"And those manufacturers all carry certifications. Annie Lane has nothing in writing."

If I had not been given a second chance, I might have started doubting myself.

Now I knew exactly what she was after, my business.

I let her take the stage.

She turned back to the crowd, expectant.

"Such a good deal. You're not seriously going to walk away from it, are you?"

The villagers looked at one another. Mrs. Walters stepped forward first.

"Annie is rotten to the core. She only knows how to take advantage of people like us."

"She doesn't deserve any loyalty. I'll go with Crystal. Where do I sign?"

The rest of them followed.

"Tear it down if you want, but the refund comes today. Every cent."

When they were gone, I called my mother. I told her everything.

The line went quiet for a moment.

"Annie. Stop. Stop helping people who don't want help. Come back to the city. Help me run the firm."

I held the phone tight.

"Mom, I sourced everything from your factory at cost for these people. I gave them the design for free. I caused you losses. You aren't angry?

"You and your father are the same kind of person. You give until your hands hurt. Cost-only is fine. Whatever makes you happy. I just didn't think it would land you in something like this.

"Look, after the refund, any soft furnishings that are still usable—send them to me. I know a few resale dealers. We won't have to absorb the entire loss."

I had been bracing for an 'I told you so.' What I got instead felt like a tired hand on my shoulder.

The next morning, I drove out with my crew, going house to house according to the sign-in list, dismantling everything.

Every layout I had carefully designed was torn down under my own direction.

Some villagers had hidden the more expensive soft furnishings. Fortunately, the signed inventory list I had prevented bigger losses.

On the way out, they spat at me.

"Cheap! Crystal would never do this. She'd let the sofa go!"

"Look at her. Came here just for money. Now she can't squeeze anything out of us, she's even taking the washing machine!"

I listened to the insults and found them almost laughable.

Those furnishings were part of my renovation package. I hadn't even charged depreciation. And they still wanted everything.

Crystal showed up that afternoon, holding blueprints, chin lifted.

"You can draw? So can I. I didn't go to college for nothing."

She glanced at me with disdain.

"Such simple layout changes, and you still dare say you didn't charge?"

I had already looked into her background the night before.

She majored in Business English at an ordinary college, completely unrelated to design.

I honestly didn't know where she got the confidence.

I gave a faint smile.

"I'm curious. Plumbing, electrical, tiling, carpentry, painting… materials alone cost more than twenty thousand. What kind of cheap materials are you using?"

My mother had been in this industry for decades. Even she had never heard of materials that cheap, let alone branded ones.

Crystal's expression changed instantly. She lifted her chin.

"What? Can't make that kind of money yourself, so now you're slandering me?"

She pulled out her phone and swiped through several photos.

"Look at this. My classmate's house. What you see is what you get. Tell me—where's the problem?

"All big brands. Full renovation, hard and soft finishes, twenty thousand. They've lived there for over half a year."

The villagers flared up instantly, like a match to gasoline.

They turned on me, glaring, cursing, saying I was just jealous of Crystal.

I let it go. You can't reason with people determined not to listen.

A few days later, just as I was about to shut down the studio, a well-dressed man came in.

He looked me over and handed me a business card.

"Ms. Lane, hello. I'm Ethan Howell from Brookfield Academy. We're opening a branch campus here and would like to hire you to handle the design and renovation."

I was surprised.

Word had already spread across the county. Why would he still come to me?

He seemed to read my thoughts.

"I'm a friend of your mother. She recommended you after hearing about our project."

"Your mother's company has an excellent reputation in the industry. If you're her daughter, I trust you."

So it was my mother.

I hesitated.

"I've only worked on residential spaces before… projects around a hundred square meters."

He smiled.

"It's a small private school. We have our own construction team. We just need you to handle layout, circulation, and spatial planning.

"If the collaboration goes well, we'll also assign your firm the furnishing phase.

"Money isn't the issue. We care about practicality and safety.

"Five hundred thousand upfront."

My phone buzzed.

[Annie, the studio is your dream. If you don't want to give it up, don't. I'll support you. I'll arrange a design team. Just go for it.]

I steadied myself and looked at him.

"Alright. I'll take it."

Just as we were about to sign, the studio door slammed open.

Crystal rushed in, out of breath, snatched the contract, and shouted:

"Five hundred thousand?! Annie Lane, your appetite just keeps growing!"

Then she turned to Ethan with a flattering smile.

"Mr. Ethan, right? She's a fraud. Charging you five hundred thousand?

"Come to me. I'll do it for two hundred."

Ethan pulled his hand out of her grip without raising his voice.

"Miss, we have already chosen Ms. Lane's studio. We are not considering you."

Crystal jabbed a finger at me.

"You're new to this town. You don't know. Annie Lane is a swindler.

"Ask anyone. Half this town has been ripped off by her."

Ethan did not move.

"Our renovation budget is set. We have reviewed Ms. Lane's portfolio. We are satisfied, and we trust her."

The portfolio. He must have meant the posts I had been putting up online. They had been getting quite a bit of attention.

Crystal opened her mouth to continue. I took the contract out of her hand.

"You slandered me in front of the villagers before, wasn't that enough? Now you're coming to my door to steal my business? Leave now, or I call the police."

She shot back, "How am I stealing business? I'm just telling the truth."

I ignored her, picked up a pen, and signed my name.

Ethan nodded, satisfied.

"I'll send over the school's measurements and requirements within the next two days. If anything's unclear, feel free to reach out."

Crystal, seeing the deal fall through, grew angry.

"What's the big deal? I have fifteen renovation projects lined up. I can barely keep up!"

She stormed out.

Two days later, the construction team my mother arranged arrived. They were some of the more experienced designers from the company, working with me on-site.

When the villagers saw the uniforms with Carter Renovations printed on them, they were stunned.

"Isn't that the well-known company from the city?"

"Yeah, I see them on TV all the time!"

"I don't know much, but my son said they're a listed company!"

"But… why are they all working with Annie Lane?"

Crystal sneered.

"She must have hired them herself. You don't know this, she charged that school five hundred thousand!

"If she doesn't make it look decent, she'll lose everything!"

Just as she finished speaking, the assistant who came with the team spotted me and called out warmly.

"Ms. Lane, Mr. Carter has been asking about you!"

That one line, Ms. Lane, Mr. Carter, sent a ripple through the crowd.

"She called her Ms. Lane? President Carter… that's the CEO of Carter Renovations, right?"

The assistant rolled her eyes slightly and raised her voice.

"She's the daughter of Carter Renovations. You really didn't know?"

Mrs. Walters froze, stammering.

"What? How… how is that possible?"

"Such a big company! How could the renovation cost only eighty thousand? You must all be working together to fool us!"

"Annie Lane! Tell us the truth—did you hire people to act this out?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"What? Do you want me to prove who I am?

"The reason I offered low prices before was because this is my hometown. I didn't want to forget where I came from."

The other villagers fell silent, regret flashing across their faces.

With a company like that, the quality would have been guaranteed.

However, now, it was too late.

Just then, Mrs. Walters's son, Wesley, came running over, shouting, "Something's wrong! Something's wrong! We're in trouble!"