Amidst the clinking glasses and celebratory chatter of the success party, Brandon, my fiancĂ©, stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Cassandra, âaccidentallyâ spilled an entire glass of red wine all over my design blueprint. That wasn’t just any blueprint. It was the final draft for the âSkyway Havenâ project, a masterpiece Iâd poured three months of my life into, working endless nights. It was the design that had just clinched the Pritzker Prize. The crimson liquid spread across the paper like a gaping, hideous wound, instantly seeping into every fiber. The air went dead silent. Every eye in the room pivoted to me, eager for the drama to unfold. Before I could even open my mouth, Brandon moved. He strode forward, not towards me, but to shield a seemingly flustered Cassandra behind him. He didn’t even glance at the ruined blueprint that held my heart and soul. He looked at me, his brows tightly furrowed, his voice laced with annoyance and a hint of accusation. âSera, whatâs the big deal? Itâs just a blueprint. You can just draw another one when you get back.â âCassandra just got back to the country, she doesnât understand anything. Donât scare her.â
I laughed. Seriously? Scare *her*? I hadnât said a single word. How was I scaring her? I looked at Cassandra, nestled behind him. Her face wore a perfectly crafted mask of panic and innocence, but I saw a faint, triumphant smirk hidden in the corner of her eye. Such a flawless act. Then I looked back at Brandon. This man, whom Iâd stood by through thick and thin, from nothing to founding âBrandon Architecture.â This man, whoâd built half his empire on my designs. Right now, all his protection and concern were focused on another woman. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an icy hand, tightening inch by painful inch. âBrandon,â I heard my own voice, eerily calm, âyou know what this blueprint means.â âIt means our company can secure that multi-billion dollar prime land in the cityâs South District. It means your âBrandon Architectureâ can leapfrog to become an industry leader.â âAnd you say, âjust draw another oneâ?â My question choked him. His face turned ugly. âSera, donât throw a tantrum out here. Iâll explain everything to you when we get home.â He lowered his voice, as if he was bestowing a great favor on me. I just felt sick. The whispers around me buzzed like flies in my ears. âTsk, Designer Sera is just too aggressive. She doesnât give Mr. Brandon any face.â âExactly! Designer Cassandra is so gentle. She looks like the kind of woman who truly knows how to elevate her manâs career.â âMen, they prefer a woman who knows how to soothe and charm. Who wants a workaholic who just draws blueprints all dayâŠâ My head buzzed, a sharp cramp in my chest coupled with days of sleepless fatigue washed over me. My vision started to black out. My last conscious thought was seeing Brandon pat Cassandraâs shoulder reassuringly, then looking at me with an expression that screamed âtrouble.â That look, like a steel needle, pierced through all my illusions. The next second, I completely lost consciousness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at a strange ceiling, and the air smelled of cheap air freshener. I wiggled my fingers, feeling light as a feather, yet incredibly heavy. No, this wasnât my body. I shot upright and rushed to the bathroom. The mirror reflected a young, unfamiliar face. Delicate, with a hint of timidness. It was Chloe, Brandonâs new assistant. How was I here? In her body? Where was my body? A bizarre and terrifying thought exploded in my mind. Soul swap. Damn it. I didn’t have time to think. One thought consumed me â my body! I grabbed the keys and phone from the table and bolted out of the tiny rental apartment like a madwoman. It was already late at night. Relying on memory, I used Chloeâs fingerprint to unlock the door and burst into the home Brandon and I shared. No one was home. My body wasnât here. Brandon wasnât here either. A massive wave of panic gripped me. I could barely stand. Where were they? What was happening to my body right now? I forced myself to calm down. Brandon. Yes, find Brandon. I used Chloeâs phone to dial his number. It rang for a long time before he picked up. The background noise was loud, like he was in a bar. âHello? Chloe? Whatâs up this late?â Brandonâs voice was slurred with alcohol and impatience. âMr. Brandon, Designer Ser⊠Designer Sera?â I pinched my voice, trying to sound like the timid little assistant. âShe collapsed. Sheâs at the hospital, I had a nurse look after her.â He answered carelessly. Hospital. My heart eased slightly, then immediately clenched again. He said⊠he had a nurse look after me? He wasnât with me? âThen⊠where are you, sir?â I asked, trembling. From the other end, Cassandraâs sweet, soft voice chirped, âBrandon, who is it? Come drink with me!â Brandon immediately responded in a gentle, soothing tone, âJust an assistant. You enjoy yourself, Iâll be right there.â Then, he turned back to the phone, his voice dropping eight degrees, instantly cold. âDonât ask what you shouldnât. Do your job. Iâm hanging up.â The call disconnected. I stood in the empty living room, phone in hand, feeling utterly chilled. I collapsed from exhaustion for his business, ended up in the hospital. And he was out, partying with his âone that got awayâ at a bar. âDo my job?â Hah, what a joke. I opened Chloeâs SnapChat. Pinned at the top was the companyâs core project chat. Brandon had just sent a message to the group. â@everyone, tomorrow morning at 9 AM, an emergency meeting for the âSkyway Havenâ project will be held. Designer Cassandra will be joining us as a special consultant to discuss the subsequent design plans.â My pupils constricted sharply. Special consultant? Cassandra? An interior designer who only handles soft furnishings, consulting on a world-class architectural project? What kind of freaking consultant? Brandon, what exactly are you trying to do? I clenched the phone tightly, my knuckles white from the strain. No. I couldnât just sit here and do nothing. I had to figure all of this out. Under Chloeâs identity, I took a taxi to the company. The office building was pitch black at night, save for the lights on in âBrandon Architectureâsâ CEO office on the top floor. My heart sank. Who would be at the office this late? I quietly took the elevator up, using the assistantâs access card to swipe open the glass door. The CEOâs office door was ajar, and I heard hushed voices from inside. It was Brandon and Cassandra. I held my breath, pressing myself against the door like a ghost. âBrandon, are you really going to do this? Change Seraâs name to mine? If she finds outâŠâ Cassandraâs voice held a hint of false hesitation. âShe wonât know.â Brandonâs voice was cold as ice. âSheâs in the hospital right now. By the time she gets out, the project contract will be signed, and itâll be a done deal.â My blood, at that moment, froze completely. He was going to⊠change my name on the blueprint? He was going to hand over my painstaking work, my lifeâs blood, to this woman? âBut itâs Seraâs hard work after all. That design conceptâŠâ âWhat concept of hers?â Brandon scoffed, his voice filled with disdain. âThat entire concept, wasnât it just an extension of your university concept draft from back then? At the end of the day, youâre the original creator. Iâm just giving you back what should have been yours.â âBesides, while Seraâs design is good, itâs too focused on the technicalities, completely lacking your commercial savvy and market appeal. Having you sign it, using your reputation as a brilliant, internationally-trained designer for promotion, will be much more beneficial for the companyâs IPO.â *Boom!* Something inside me just *snapped*. So thatâs how it was. In his eyes, I was just a tool, too focused on craftsmanship. All my talent, all my efforts, were just stepping stones for him to package the company and pursue its IPO. And Cassandra, she was the truly talented âoriginal creatorâ in his mind, the one who could bring him greater benefits. âTrading my talent for love.â The belief I once held so firmly now seemed like a colossal joke. I clung to the cold door, trembling like a leaf. My stomach churned, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate not to throw up. Inside, Cassandra let out a satisfied sigh. She pressed against Brandon, her voice soft and alluring. âBrandon, youâre so good to me. I knew it, you always had feelings for me.â âSilly girl.â Brandonâs voice held a hint of tenderness. âIf your family hadnât insisted you go abroad back then, we would never have separated. Now that youâre back, I wonât let you suffer a single grievance.â âWhat about Seraphina? You twoâŠâ âSera and I, that was nothing more than a business arrangement. Her technical skill, my market, thatâs all. Once the company goes public and stabilizes, Iâll tell her everything.â âDonât worry. The position of Mrs. Brandon will only ever be yours.â Every single word, like poisoned blades, slowly tearing my heart to shreds. A business arrangement⊠thatâs all⊠I accompanied him through the toughest times, I let him use all my patents for free, I poured myself into building his business empire. In the end, all I got was âthatâs all.â I couldnât listen anymore. I was afraid Iâd kick down that door and drag that despicable pair down with me. I stumbled back, fleeing into the adjacent breakroom, my body sliding down to the floor against the cold wall. I hugged my knees, burying my face. No tears came. Thereâs no grief like the death of hope. I just felt that the past ten years had been an intricately orchestrated scam. And I, was the most ridiculous, most foolish clown. I donât know how long passed, but the office door opened. Brandon and Cassandra walked out, intimately embracing. Through the crack in the breakroom door, I saw Cassandra stand on her tiptoes and press a kiss to Brandonâs lips. âIâll head back now. See you at the meeting tomorrow.â âOkay, be careful on your way.â Brandon watched her leave, then turned and went back into his office. I heard the clicking of a mouse and the tapping of a keyboard from inside. What was he doing? He was changing the designerâs name on my blueprint! A metallic taste rose in my throat. I pushed myself up against the wall, a towering hatred igniting in my chest. Brandon. Cassandra. You thought I was a fool. You treated everything I had as spoils of war, to be plundered at will. You thought I was lying helpless in a hospital bed, at your mercy? Good. Oh, so good. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, looking at Chloeâs timid face in the mirror. From today onwards, things would be different. What you owe me, I will collect every single penny, with interest! I wasnât Seraphina anymore. I was⊠a vengeful spirit.
The next day, 9 AM. The meeting room at âBrandon Architectureâ was thick with tension. Under Chloeâs identity, I stood in the corner, head bowed, holding a cup of coffee, like I was invisible. Brandon sat at the head of the table, looking smug and triumphant. Cassandra sat beside him, dressed in a custom-tailored suit, her makeup flawless, clearly embodying the role of a hostess. In her hand was a documentâmy âSkyway Havenâ design proposal. But the designerâs name on the cover now boldly read: Cassandra. That was quick. In just one night, sheâd fully usurped my spot. The executives in the room were all seasoned professionals. Seeing the situation, no one dared to speak first. Brandon cleared his throat. âEveryone, Designer Sera is temporarily unable to participate in the project due to health reasons. But the project schedule cannot wait. Therefore, I specifically invited Designer Cassandra to be our special consultant and lead the upcoming work.â He paused, then picked up the proposal from the table. âThis final proposal for âSkyway Havenâ actually has its core concept rooted in Designer Cassandraâs early creative vision. One could say, she is the soul of this project. It is only fitting that she takes over.â I almost threw up on the spot. Iâd seen shameless people before, but never this shameless. To describe theft so eloquently, Brandon, youâre truly a piece of work. The executives exchanged glances. Finally, the companyâs technical director, Mr. Hayes, who had worked with me for years, couldnât help but speak up. âMr. Brandon, isnât this against protocol? Designer Seraâs proposalâŠâ âMr. Hayes.â Brandonâs eyes instantly turned cold. âAre you questioning my decision?â Mr. Hayesâ face paled. He dared not say another word. Brandon seemed pleased with this âsetting an exampleâ approach. He turned to Cassandra, his tone softening again. âCassandra, why donât you share your ideas with everyone?â Cassandra stood up, a perfect business smile gracing her lips. She turned on the projector and began to speak fluently. Every word she uttered was something I had painstakingly articulated to Brandon, night after night. From design inspiration to structural mechanics, to the application of environmentally friendly materials. She recited it all flawlessly, as if it were her own. Shameless. Absolutely freaking shameless. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Calm down, Seraphina, calm down. You are Chloe right now. You cannot act impulsively. I took a deep breath, my gaze sweeping across everyone present. Those executives who once smiled at me, calling me the âcompanyâs anchor,â now had their heads bowed, pretending to take notes diligently. Not a single person stood up to say a word on my behalf. Fine. This was all just fine. I saw their true colors clearly now. Fair-weather friends, quick to curry favor. A company built on plagiarism and lies, does it really deserve to go public? In their dreams. Halfway through the meeting, Cassandra started discussing the projectâs core technologyâmy exclusively developed âSuspended Seismic-Resistant Structure.â This was core confidential information I hadn’t yet patented, only discussed with Brandon. ââŠSo, this suspended structure will be the biggest highlight of our project, and our ultimate trump card to surpass all competitors.â Cassandra spoke with passionate fervor, as if she were the inventor of the technology herself. Brandon nodded in satisfaction. Just then, I moved. Holding the coffee, I pretended to slip, my body âaccidentallyâ bumping into the projectorâs power cord. *Click.* The screen instantly went black. The entire conference room plunged into darkness and chaos. âWhat happened?!â âOuch! Who did that?!â Under the cover of darkness, I quickly, with lightning speed, plugged the USB drive I had been clutching into the main conference computerâs USB port. Inside was the âgiftâ I had prepared overnight. A tiny virus program. It wouldnât destroy the computer. It would only, at a specific time, send a specific file to specific people. Having done all that, I immediately pulled out the USB drive, scurried back to my corner, and feigned panic. âIâm sorry! Iâm so sorry! I didnât mean to!â I shrieked in Chloeâs voice. The lights were quickly turned back on. Everyone glared at me, the âculprit.â Brandonâs face was as black as a thundercloud. âChloe! What are you doing?! You canât even handle such a small task!â I lowered my head, my shoulders shaking, looking like I was about to cry. âIâm sorry, Mr. Brandon, I⊠my legs just went weakâŠâ Cassandra walked over, feigning concern and helping me up. In a voice only we two could hear, she whispered: âAn assistant should act like an assistant. Things that arenât yours to touch, youâd best leave them alone.â Her eyes were full of warning and disdain. I sneered inwardly. Things not mine to touch? Cassandra, youâll soon find out whose things youâre touching right now. The meeting ended abruptly due to this small incident. Brandon called me into his office and gave me a furious dressing-down, finally punishing me by âdeducting my entire bonus for the month.â I meekly accepted it. Walking out of the office, I glanced back at the closed door. Brandon, Cassandra. Enjoy your stolen victory. Because the countdown has already begun. For the next few days, I lived a double life. By day, I was the timid, clumsy little assistant, Chloe, in the CEOâs office. Serving coffee, making copies, being ordered around, and constantly enduring Cassandraâs sarcasm and deliberate provocations.
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