Chapter 1

I saw the news about a young tech worker dying from extreme burnout and immediately drove to my daughter's office.

She hadn't replied to my texts in three days.

The moment I gave her name at the front desk, a young man eagerly grabbed my hand. His eyes locked onto my limited-edition designer bag, swept over my luxury watch, and lingered on me with a gaze that made my skin crawl.

"You must be Emily's friend. Gotta say, you're in a whole different league than her."

I didn't even have time to process that before he was guiding me toward the lounge, casually belittling my daughter right to my face.

"I'm Emily's boyfriend. She's sweet, but she's too naive. Doesn't really dress up. She's nothing compared to you."

He leaned in, dropping his voice to a flirtatious whisper.

"Look, if you're free tonight, let me take you to dinner. I have a feeling you're a lot more fun than she is."

I almost laughed.

Friend?

I'm her biological mother. I'm also the Founder, major shareholder, and Executive Chair of this company.

Emily had mentioned she was dating someone who treated her like gold. She said Jason Reed was driven, gentle, and took perfect care of her.

So this was him.

I followed Jason, finding the whole situation utterly absurd.

I'm forty-two. I take good care of myself, occasionally getting some cosmetic procedures, and without makeup, people usually guess I'm in my early thirties. Emily always joked that we look like sisters when we go out.

Today, I'd been downgraded to her friend.

"Emily talks about you a lot. Said you're her wealthy friend. That you guys grew up together and are super close."

Jason chatted away, way too familiar, his eyes constantly darting back to my designer gear.

I stopped walking.

"She didn't mention me?" he probed, trying to read my reaction.

"She did," I replied, keeping my tone dead flat. "Said you treat her really well."

Jason puffed up, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the lounge sofa like he owned the place.

"Emily's clueless about office politics. Honestly, if I hadn't mentored her, she would've been eaten alive by now."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mentored her?"

"I've been here two years longer. I know the players. When she first joined, I showed her the ropes on a lot of the internal processes." Jason lifted his chin, looking incredibly smug. "Writing code isn't enough. You need to know who pulls the strings and how to get them on your side. Emily just keeps her head down. It's going to bite her eventually."

I knew that perfectly well.

But I also knew Emily got her job based on three papers published in top-tier international computer science conferences and two senior software engineering internships.

"And what exactly do you do?" Jason suddenly pivoted to me.

"Tech investments and product development," I replied, deliberately omitting my actual title.

"The tech industry? We're in the same field, then." His eyes lit up. His gaze glued itself to my bag again as he feigned casual interest. "That's a limited edition, right?"

"I wanted to buy one for Emily. She thought it was too expensive. Said it was a waste of money."

"Emily doesn't care about material things." I took a slow sip from the water glass on the table.

Jason leaned forward abruptly, his intent so blatant it was nauseating.

"To be honest, Emily's too complacent. She has no idea how to plan for the future. Compared to a woman like you, she's leagues behind."

I suppressed a surge of pure anger. "And what kind of woman plans for the future?"

He stared right at me without missing a beat.

"A woman like you. You've got taste. Vision. You know what you want. A guy could skip ten years of grinding with someone like you in his corner." He smirked. "Emily is nothing compared to you."

The air went dead quiet for two seconds.

Looking at this man—who was actively dating my daughter while openly hunting for his next stepping stone—I felt a profound sense of disgust.

I was just about to rip his mask off when Jason's face suddenly froze. The smirk died on his lips.

I turned around.

Emily stood at the corner of the hallway, clutching a stack of files, staring right at us.