I felt dizzy from staring up at the towering building for so long. The lights from its windows were entrancing, hypnotic even—making me want to keep staring forever. The building looked to be eight, maybe ten stories tall, and judging by the silhouettes inside, each floor was teeming with guests.

This party was a lot larger than I expected. Great.

I climbed the flight of stairs and locked eyes with Harold. His smile was bright—almost too bright. I watched his iris glide upward slowly, assessing my dress like he was about to pounce—a baby seeing its mother’s breasts for the first time.

His gaze traveled along the red fabric, from the curve-hugging skirt with a slit up my left thigh, to the spiraling flower detail wrapping around my waist like a serpent coiling its prey, and finally, to the ruby-studded chest piece that gave my boobs a respectable lift.

This was a lie, admittedly. A disguise. A mask that hid the real me well—an unattractive, unfriendly, depressed emotional wreck.

His eyes finally returned to mine as I reached him.

“You… look amazing,” he said—because what else could he say? Still, I could see his dark, hidden desires swirling in his pupils, rising and falling like disturbed dust.

“Thank you,” I replied, smiling, cheeks flushing. “What’s all this? You didn’t tell me it’d be this big. And the limo? I never expected that.”

“Who are you?” I asked, squinting slightly.

“Well… I’m sorry I didn’t explain sooner. Let me show you around, and I’ll explain as we go,” Harold said.

He placed his right palm gently on my bare back and led me inside.

The party was quiet and sophisticated. Soft piano music played in the background, mingling with the scent of wine and pastries that lingered in the air. Guests murmured around white-linen dining tables while golden chandeliers hung low, casting the hall in a pale yellow hue.

“My family owns a major share in one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in New York City,” Harold said as we walked. “I manage those shares, and I also own a few research labs in Brooklyn and beyond. I dabble in real estate too—and a couple event centers. This one’s mine.”

He waved casually at guests who were, frankly, more focused on undressing me with their eyes.

Among them was a young woman whose gaze had been fixed on me since I walked in. She looked stunned—maybe even pained. Her blonde hair draped over one side of her face, and her red lipstick shimmered under the chandeliers.

She was beyond beautiful.

I looked away. “So… you’re basically one of the billionaires who run this city, and you said nothing about it,” I said, more resentfully than I meant to. I knew what I’d suffered at the hands of a billionaire.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” Harold replied. “I just wanted to have a real conversation, get to know the real you. And hopefully… find someone who loves me, not what I have.”

He stopped in front of me and turned, his eyes softening. “And I think I’ve found her.”

My heart thumped with a strange rhythm as I stared into his eyes.

Wait. I blinked. Did he say pharmaceutical company? My stomach tightened. Could Richard be—

“Harold,” a woman’s voice called from behind him.

He turned and beamed. The woman, seated at a round table with other guests, looked to be in her forties. Could she be…?

Harold grabbed my hand and led me over. “Mother,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

It’s his mother. Oh my god. I can’t fuck this up—I cannot fuck this up, I repeated to myself, drawing a deep breath.

“Family, this is Angel Ramirez. My date,” Harold said.

“Good evening,” I said nervously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Ramirez?” his mother asked. “As in the Ramirez family—owners of the biggest hospital and research facility in the United States?”

“Uh, no. I’m just a surgeon from Forest Hills, Queens,” I lied.

I couldn’t let them know I was the banished daughter of that Ramirez family—or the ex-wife of Richard Angelo. Not after the lies he told the press.

“I… was an orphan,” I added. “I don’t know who my family is.”

Harold’s brows furrowed. He didn’t know who my family was—but he knew I had one. I’d told him. Still, he understood, and played along.

“Well, nice to meet you, Angel Ramirez,” said a man a few years younger than Harold. “Please make my big brother happy tonight. His life’s boring, and he’s a depressed fuck.”

The table erupted with laughter. I smiled and gave him a subtle nod.

The music changed—smooth, sultry saxophone notes now glided through the room.

“Time to dance,” Harold’s mother announced, standing up. “I can’t wait to shake these fifty-year-old hips.”

Harold’s brother took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Two younger girls—twins—remained at the table, smiling quietly. They looked much younger than the brothers and hadn’t said a word all evening.

Harold turned to me. “May I have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand.

“Yes, you may, Lord Harold Washington,” I teased, placing my hand in his.

He led me to the floor, resting his left palm gently on my right hip.

His gaze stayed locked on mine—and somehow, I could feel his heartbeat syncing with mine.

“I’m sorry I lied to your family,” I whispered.

“It’s okay. I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell them,” he said softly.

Then, “But tell me… are you related to the Ramirez family?”

“I…” I hesitated. “No. I’m just an ordinary girl from Queens.”

I hated lying to Harold—the only man I’d truly come to trust in four years. But telling him the truth would complicate things for both of us.

I couldn’t.

“You’re not ordinary, Angel,” Harold whispered. “You’re beautiful, smart, and you save lives every day. You’re kind-hearted, strong, and brave. I couldn’t ask for a better woman.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched his shoulder.

“I’m in love with you, Angel,” he said, moving closer. “And I want to show you a whole new world—a better one than what you had four years ago. Better than what you have now.”

This time was different. I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t want to pull away. I shut my eyes, ready for his lips to meet mine.

“Angel?”

A voice cut through the air, familiar and sharp.

My eyes snapped open. My stomach dropped.

“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, turning slowly toward the voice.

And there he was—Richard Angelo—standing like the devil himself, hand in hand with his wife, Jennifer. Both of them were staring at me, stunned.

Why… why didn’t I see this coming?

Remember that ball of hatred?

It grew.

Until now, I’ve only spoken about my life in a day—work, therapy session, home; work, therapy session, home; work, therapy session, home—a fucking annoying cycle that kept repeating... and would’ve kept repeating for the rest of my life.

Until tonight.

Tonight is when things begin to get real fucked up.

“Angel,” Richard’s voice came again. I exhaled, staring at him from across the room. I could feel the fragile lies I had told tonight crashing down around me like the ceramic dishes in my kitchen.

I felt the judgmental stares of everyone in the hall. The one thing I feared more than anything else in the world—eyes.

“I…” I turned back to Harold. His face was unsure, confused... and a little heartbroken. He was waiting—hoping—for confirmation from me before he said his next words.

“I’m… sorry.” I lowered my gaze shamefully. There was no point lying to him now.

Harold’s eyes grew glassy. He glanced at Richard, stared for a second, and then walked away without a single word. The clump of his shoes echoed behind me, fading into the silence he left.

And then came Richard’s laugh.

I turned back toward him, teary-eyed and ready to burst. He and Jennifer stood side by side, their lips stretched into gleeful grins. Jennifer lifted her hand fan to her mouth, but her eyes brimmed with disgust.

Here we were again. Just like four years ago. I was broken, and these two devils stood before me, smiling like they’d just won trophies for making my life miserable. The only difference now?

There were more eyes. More whispers. More judgment.

More people...

Including—

“Angel?!”

Another familiar voice called out. My eyes widened.

I slowly turned toward it, a tear trickling down my left cheek—and there she was.

My mother stood just a short distance from Richard and his wife.

But it wasn’t just her.

Oh no—the universe wasn’t done making shit worse.

My brother and sister stepped out of the crowd, and suddenly, the whispers erupted.

> “The banished daughter of the Ramirez family.”

“That slut.”

“The outcast.”

My breaths shortened. My heart pounded as I looked from face to face, panic blooming in my chest.

What the hell are they doing here?

I thought they and the Angelos were rivals…?

“What are you doing here, you traitor?” my brother mouthed, his face twisted in scorn.

“This slut can’t stop bouncing from one man to the next. And now she wants to settle? Not even decent enough to do it far away from her past,” my sister sneered.

“Why couldn’t you stay with your husband, support him, help him succeed? Instead, you turned the public against him and dragged him to court. Shameful,” my brother added.

“No… no, please,” I whispered, tears spilling as I pressed my palms to the sides of my head.

Then I looked up—and locked eyes with my mother.

“Where are your supporters now? Where are all those peasants you used to humiliate us?” she said coldly. “You’re nothing but a pest, Angel. You destroy everything you touch.”

She stepped forward.

“And I’m not going to let you touch this family. Not again.”

I clenched my teeth, grimacing. A headache pulsed behind my temples. That ball of hatred throbbed, alive.

Then suddenly, the voices in my head—silence.

A cracking sound followed.

The ball had split.

And the darkness was finally seeping out.

I drew my hands from my head and slowly lifted my face. Eyes closed. Breath steady. Broken.

I turned away from the crowd and walked toward one of the security guards as laughter erupted behind me.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Right this way, ma’am,” the guard replied, his eyes wide with concern. “Umm… are you okay?”

I stared at him for a moment and smiled.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you.”

He nodded, offering a nervous smile, then led me down the corridor to the restroom.

---

The restroom was quiet—a place to escape the noise and the venom.

I placed my palms on the white ceramic sink, panting lightly beneath the harsh lights of a wide mirror.

My fingers fumbled into my bag, retrieving my makeup kit. I opened it, preparing to repair what the tears had ruined.

But as I lifted my head toward the mirror, I froze.

My reflection was smiling.

Startled, I stepped back.

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised to see me,” my reflection said, her voice laced with mock sadness. “That’s a little heartbreaking.”

“What the fuck?” I muttered. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m you, Angel,” she replied coolly. “Only better.”

She moved—gliding out of the mirror and into the one beside it.

“I’ve been with you ever since the fire, Angel. Watching quietly as you tried, and tried again, to recover from PTSD. All those therapy sessions… they did something. I admit. You started smiling again. You made a friend. You even found love.”

She paused, her smile twisting.

“But all it took to destroy it all was one fucking lie.”

“Everything’s fine. Nothing’s changed,” I argued, glaring at her.

“No, no, no, sweetheart. Harold left you because you’re a lying bitch—he’s never coming back. Your friend Christine saw how abrasive you were at the boutique; she’s done with you. And now your own family has rejected you—again. And worse, they’ve sided with the people who’ve always hated you.”

“No. You’re wrong. And you’re not real!” I screamed, tears streaming as I slapped the sides of my head, trying to shake her away.

She didn’t move.

“I’m as real as I can fucking get,” she said, voice hardening. “I’m the you that wants to rip everything apart—to set the whole goddamn world ablaze for what it’s done to us. I’m the one who wants to make them suffer. To make them beg for mercy until their last breath.”

She stepped closer, her face now furious.

“I’m the fucking RAGDOLL.”

The mirror cracked across her face.

And she smiled.

“I know just who to begin with.”