IN HER SHOES

Chapter 1 The book hit the hardwood floor and slid until it stopped against the leg of my secondhand nightstand. Its spine was broken, and the pages were worn from years of use. I stared at the popcorn ceiling of my twenty-square-meter studio apartment, my chest rising and falling as I tried to calm down. "Unbelievable," I muttered. "Utterly, mind-numbingly idiotic." For the eleventh time in three years, I had read this book, and for the eleventh time, I hated Tiffany's ending. Tiffany Ashford was a billionaire heiress who owned a corporate empire and had more money than most people could dream of. Yet she spent the entire novel crying over a man who didn't care if she lived or died. Adrian Blackwell was a walking red flag in an Armani suit. He cheated on Tiffany with her own cousin, Vanessa, right under the Ashford family roof. He made Tiffany believe her anxiety was the problem, treated her like a decoration, and leaked corporate secrets to her power-hungry uncle. And what did Tiffany do? She baked him lemon tarts. She apologized for disturbing his late-night business calls. She cried into her pillows while her relatives plotted to take her inheritance away from her. "If I were you, Tiffany," I said to the empty room, pulling my worn duvet closer, "I'd divorce that useless man, deal with his mistress, and take back what belongs to me. You have money, power, and an entire company! What exactly are you crying for?" My eyelids grew heavy. After working sixty hours that week, I was too exhausted to stay awake. I drifted off with one last thought: Tiffany was the most frustrating fictional character I'd ever read about. When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling was different. The bed was larger, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine and expensive perfume. A framed wedding photograph sat on the nightstand. Tiffany Ashford stood in a white lace dress beside a man who already looked bored. My head throbbed. My body felt unfamiliar. I sat up, walked unsteadily to the mirror, and stared at a face that wasn't mine. "Holy Molly." Tiffany's face. I turned to the phone beside the bed and checked the date. It was three months before the first major betrayal in the novel. I was inside the story I'd read eleven times, the same story whose ending I'd hated every single time. This had to be God's way of punishing me for cursing Tiffany's fate. Now I had the chance to change it. "s**t!" I screamed. In the original novel, Tiffany woke up before dawn every morning to cook breakfast for Adrian. She believed that if she made his favorite eggs and toast, he might stay home long enough to have breakfast with her. But he never did. He would kiss her cheek, mention an early meeting, and leave the mansion smelling of another woman's perfume. I walked into the dressing room and looked at the designer shoes and bags Tiffany owned but rarely used. She had so many beautiful things, yet she'd spent her life trying to please people who didn't deserve her. Not me. I'd always dreamed of having this kind of wardrobe, and now it was mine. Instead of preparing breakfast herself, I ordered it from the mansion's kitchen. Then I picked out a tailored cherry-red suit and let my hair fall in its natural waves. I'm not going to live your miserable life, Tiffany, I told myself. With my phone in hand, I walked downstairs. The staff looked surprised. The old Tiffany rarely wore bright colors unless there was a special occasion. She also never left the house without making sure Adrian had everything he needed. I was drinking my black coffee when Adrian appeared. He was still wearing yesterday's shirt, and his hair was damp from a rushed shower. "You're up early," he said, reaching for the toast I hadn't prepared. "Where's breakfast?" I placed my empty cup on the table. "Ask the chef what you want. They'll prepare it for you." Adrian stared at me as if he hadn't heard correctly. Then he laughed. "Bad mood already? It's not even seven." I smoothed my jacket and met his eyes. "I have a board meeting. Don't wait up." I walked out, leaving him in the kitchen with an expression I had never seen on his face in any of my eleven readings. Confusion. --- The Ashford Conglomerate boardroom was on the forty-second floor. I arrived five minutes early in my cherry-red suit. The conversation stopped when I entered. Uncle Richard was seated at the head of the long table, in my chair. Aunt Celia sat beside him, along with two finance executives who always supported his decisions. Vanessa stood near the coffee station, stirring her drink. The other board members looked at me with the same expressions I'd read about eleven times before. They expected the usual Tiffany: quiet, uncertain, and easy to control. I wasn't going to give them that. Instead of taking a seat near the door, I walked to the opposite end of the table, pulled out a chair facing Richard, and sat down. This was my company, after all. "Good morning," I said. "Let's start with the third-quarter projections for our Southeast Asian logistics branch. I've reviewed the preliminary figures, and they're below expectations. I want to know why." The room fell silent. Richard recovered first. He gave me the same smile he'd used in the novel whenever he wanted to take more control of the company. "Tiffany, dear, perhaps we should begin with something less demanding. Your health—" "My health has nothing to do with today's agenda." I opened the folder in front of me. "The Southeast Asian branch is down 11.4 percent against forecast. Two regional directors failed to report the port delays until the losses had already been recorded. I want both of them here by Friday with written explanations and revised plans to address the problem. If they can't provide them, they can clear their desks." Aunt Celia stopped writing. Vanessa's spoon clinked against her cup. Richard's smile faded slightly. "That's rather abrupt. In the past, you've preferred a more collaborative approach." "In the past, I was polite while people stole from me." I held his gaze. "That version of me is no longer available. Next, the proposed acquisition of Meridian Shipping. The valuation your team submitted is inflated by at least eighteen percent. I've already instructed Legal to conduct an independent review under my direct supervision. From now on, all discussions about Meridian will go through me." Richard said nothing. I continued before he could interrupt. I watched their reactions as I went through the agenda. Richard's jaw tightened. Celia gripped her pen, and Vanessa looked uncomfortable. Even the board members who had barely paid attention to Tiffany before were now listening. For forty-seven minutes, I ran the meeting without letting Richard take control. I stopped him whenever he tried to dismiss my concerns, rejected vague answers, and demanded actual figures. I also named the two executives who had been leaking information to Richard through a private channel. I remembered the chapter where their betrayal was finally exposed. They would be placed under temporary review while the company investigated. When I closed my folder, nobody spoke. "That will be all for this morning," I said. "The new policies will be circulated by noon. Anyone with further concerns can schedule a meeting with my assistant, not my uncle." I stood, gathered my things, and left before anyone could argue.