Chapter 2

"Wow, the uploader shut her down good! People like this just can't stand seeing others do well!"

"Exactly. She doesn't have it herself, so she assumes everyone else is faking. That's hilarious."

"Look at her profile pic. Her clothes don't even have a logo. And she still dared to come start something?"

Someone even screenshot my selfie, zoomed in on my face, and wrote, "The uploader was right. You can tell from her face she's had work done. No way she's got money."

"Her nose job is practically poking out and she's still trying to act high-class?"

I stared at those comments and read them one by one.

Over four thousand new comments, and every single one was cursing me out.

Some called me jealous, some called me bitter, and some said I was so broke I'd gone insane.

Someone even turned my selfie into a meme and slapped the word "broke" on it before spreading it around.

My hands kept shaking, not from anger, but from how absurd all of this was.

These people were calling the actual owner a fake.

And the woman living in my house, driving my car, and wearing my pajamas was being worshiped by hundreds of thousands of people as some rich princess.

I took a deep breath and called Mr. Ford, the property manager.

"Mr. Ford, has anyone been to my house these past few days?"

He sounded confused. "Miss Mason, your cousin said you asked her to stay there for a few days. She picked up the access card the day before yesterday. Wasn't that arranged by you?"

My cousin?

I was an only child. Where the hell would I get a cousin from?

"What's her name?"

"The name on the registration is... Olivia Sterling."

I'd never heard that name before.

"Send me the surveillance footage. All of it."

Right after I hung up, that account pushed out another new video.

Olivia Sterling stood on the steps in front of the villa and said to the camera, "Some broke losers get jealous just because their own lives suck. I'm in a bad mood today, so no more updates. Tomorrow I'll show you guys my walk-in closet."

Then she blew a kiss at the camera.

I stared at the pajama set she was wearing in the video, and my chest felt tight enough to hurt.

I had only worn that set once. I cut the tags off just yesterday.

My phone buzzed again. It was a message from Sophie Clay.

"Holy shit, Emily, look at this video! Why does this woman's house look exactly like yours??"

I replied with two words. "It is."

Sophie called me right away. Her voice was so loud my ears rang.

"What do you mean? Someone broke into your house? Did you call the cops?"

"The property office said a 'cousin' took the access card."

"Cousin my ass! Where would you even get a cousin? Your dad's an only child and your mom's an only child. You don't even have close cousins, let alone some random one!"

"I know."

Sophie fell silent for two seconds.

"Emily, this isn't simple. Someone pretended to be your relative, got into your house, drove your car, filmed videos, posted them online, and then called you broke. This was planned."

I looked at Olivia's wild, smug grin on the screen and slowly tightened my grip on the phone.

"I don't care who she is."

My own voice sounded strangely calm.

"She messed with the wrong person."