2

I woke up the next morning convinced everything would be fine. Dad had a temper. Everyone in the family knew that. He’d explode, say something dramatic, then calm down by morning. That was how it had always been. He had called me last night. Screaming and shouting that he was tired of my lifestyle and it was negatively affecting his business sticks. He had said he would cut me off. I didn’t think he really meant it. I was his darling daughter. Last night’s phone call had been intense, sure. But after a good night’s sleep? He would definitely have cooled off. I stretched lazily across the silk sheets and reached for my phone. Thirty-two missed calls. Hundreds of unread messages. Thousands of notifications. I ignored them all. Problems could wait until after breakfast. I slipped into a cream-colored silk dress that skimmed my curves perfectly, paired it with my favorite designer heels, and spent nearly an hour perfecting my hair and makeup. If I was going to apologize to my father, I was at least going to look like the princess he raised. I arrived at the Hart mansion. It felt unusually quiet as our house was enormous and more like a luxury hotel than a family home. Marble floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers, fresh flowers scented every corner, and the rich smell of coffee drifted from the dining room. Dad was already seated at the long table, reading the morning newspaper. He didn’t look up when I entered. “Good morning, Daddy.” Nothing. Not even a glance. I forced a bright smile and took my usual seat. The housekeeper placed a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of me. “Thank you, Maria.” She smiled nervously and hurried away. Even the staff seemed scared. I cleared my throat. “So… about last night.” Dad folded the newspaper with deliberate care and set it aside. His expression was stone-cold. “I watched the video.” “I know.” “I watched it three times.” “I’m really sorry, Daddy.” “You humiliated yourself.” I nodded, trying to look remorseful. “You embarrassed this entire family.” “I know.” “You mocked a hardworking server in public.” “I’m aware.” “You destroyed property in your little tantrum.” “I said I was sorry!” He stared at me for a long moment, then calmly picked up his coffee and took a slow sip. “I’ve accepted your apology.” Relief flooded through me. “Really?” “No.” The relief vanished. “Dad—” “I’ve spent twenty-four years giving you everything you’ve ever wanted.” “I didn’t ask for everything.” “No. That was a mistake on my part. You simply expected it.” His words stung like a slap. “Every vacation, every designer handbag, every luxury apartment, every shopping spree, every beauty treatment, every first-class flight, I paid for all of it.” “I appreciate everything you’ve done,” I said quickly. “Do you?” “Of course I do!” He leaned back in his chair. “Then tell me, Riley. When was the last time you earned a single dollar?” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. “I… I have my social media,” I finally managed. “You barely ever make anything from it. You just take pictures.” “It’s a business!” “It’s a hobby that sponsors paid for because of my name and money.” I frowned, irritation rising. “I work hard. I spend hours creating content.” “You spend hours shopping.” “I need outfits for the content.” “You spend hours getting your makeup done.” “My appearance is part of my brand!” “You spend hours at parties.” “They’re networking events!” Dad let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I’ve heard enough.” He reached into his jacket pocket and placed a thin envelope on the table. “Open it.” I tore it open with trembling fingers. Bank statements. Every single account linked to me—frozen. “Dad?” “As of this morning, every credit card in your name has been canceled. Your monthly allowance has ended. The downtown penthouse? I’ve stopped paying the rent.” My heart slammed against my ribs. “You can’t be serious.” “I’m very serious.” “But… my bills. My car. The driver. My shopping—” “Sell the car. Pay your own bills. The driver is no longer employed by you.” He folded his hands. “You have thirty days to become financially independent, Riley.” I blinked, stunned. “A job? You want me to get a… job?” “Yes.” I laughed, the sound high and nervous. “Dad, nobody in our family works ordinary jobs. This is ridiculous!” “No, Riley. What’s ridiculous is my twenty-four-year-old daughter believing money magically appears in her account every month. Find a job. Any job. Prove you can survive without me.” Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. “Fine!” I pushed my chair back so hard it scraped loudly against the marble. “I don’t need your money anyway. I’ll get a job today. I’ll prove I can do this on my own. And when I do, don’t expect me to come crawling back!” He smiled for the first time that morning, a small, knowing smile that only fueled my fury. “Good luck.” I grabbed my handbag and stormed out, slamming the heavy front door behind me. The city suddenly felt different. No driver waiting. No luxury car idling at the curb. No assistant to carry my bags. Just me, in my designer heels, standing on the sidewalk with a cheap debit card and a bruised ego. How hard could finding a job be? Very hard, it turned out. The first boutique barely glanced at me. “We’re looking for someone with actual retail experience.” “I have an excellent fashion sense. My followers copy my style every day!” They smiled politely and showed me the door. The second store wanted cash register experience. I’d never touched one. The third needed a receptionist who could use Excel properly. I could barely open it. The fourth café asked if I’d ever made coffee. “I drink it,” I snapped. The manager just blinked and wished me luck. By lunchtime, my feet were screaming in my expensive heels. I collapsed onto a bench outside the mall, exhausted and humiliated. This was unbelievable. I had millions of followers. Brands used to beg to work with me. People copied my outfits religiously. Yet somehow, no one wanted to hire Riley Hart. I stared down at my perfectly manicured nails, the reality sinking in like a slow poison. Maybe getting a job wasn’t as easy as I had thought. But there was no way I was crawling back home to admit defeat. Not yet. I still had places left to try. Surely someone out there would be smart enough to hire me. …Right?