Chapter 2

Gabriella

Ten Years Later

"Mom, it's incredibly unfair! I worked tirelessly for this position, and you can't just demote me without a valid reason," I plead desperately to my mother, but she doesn't even spare a glance to acknowledge my distress.

It's a recurring pattern of unfairness in which Elle and Mom both dispute my efforts to create my own path.

"This isn't fair!" I scream again, hoping that this time my explosion will push her to finally see and comprehend my plight. However, she merely walks away, deaf to my plea.

******

If you're reading this, let me properly introduce myself.

I am Gabriella Johansson, daughter of the renowned model, Rebecca Johansson, and the esteemed designer, Derek Johansson. Oh, and there's Gabrielle Johansson too—my identical twin sister. But don't be mistaken, we couldn't be more different.

Regrettably, I've just experienced a demotion at the company I dedicated five years of my life to. And you won't believe the reason—or lack thereof—for this setback. It all leads back to Gabrielle, my infuriating twin sister.

It's incredibly crazy that my mom fired me just to hand my job over to Elle, who spent the last five years doing nothing but idling around while I handled all the work. Does that even make any sense?

My life always seems to be a never-ending pool of sadness. My mother has openly favored Elle since we were little, and it has been brutally obvious. I even wonder occasionally if our biological mothers are really the same.

Despite the fact that we may look exactly the same, it seems as though she finds me to be irritating. She has never sent me a birthday greeting, but Elle constantly enjoys huge celebrations in her honor, while I have always felt like someone who belongs elsewhere.

My life has turned into a nightmare ever since my dad died. Both Elle and my mother now view me as a stranger, and their treatment of me simply makes my misery worse.

Elle has subjected me to relentless bullying, taking away anything I enjoyed just to provoke me. She embarrassed me throughout high school, to the point where any guy who approached me would be fed lies by her, causing them to flee or endure humiliation while she impersonated me.

Isn't that a sign of some mental illness?

Many assume that I'm envious of my sister, fueling my dislike for her. However, jealousy has nothing to do with it. In reality, there's nothing to be envious of.

Not only is Elle morally compromised, but she's also a bully and remarkably lazy. If people perceive her as beautiful, then I suppose I must be too, considering our near-identical appearances with only slight, barely noticeable differences.

At this moment, self-hatred consumes me. I've been unjustly demoted from the position of vice president to a mere secretary for the new VP. I'm stripped of the opportunity to design or contribute significantly to the fashion industry anymore.

I refuse to be reduced to a mere secretary; I am a designer. If my mom and Elle believe they can humiliate me in such a manner, they must be out of their minds. I will never lower myself to return to that office.

It's time for a fresh start and a new career. No more playing the role of the naive or diligent girl. I must redefine my life on my own terms and break free from being nothing more than my mom's doormat.

Gabrielle

"Oh, Mom, I'm absolutely thrilled!" I squeal with excitement, embracing my mom tightly because she truly is the best mom in the world.

"Well, I'm delighted to see you this happy, sweetheart. Congratulations once again on becoming the new vice president of Elite Fashion. I have every confidence that you'll make me proud," Mom says, her words filled with reassurance, and naturally, I wholeheartedly agree with her.

I've always been Mom's favorite daughter. She has consistently chosen me over my sister, who is nothing more than a sorry excuse for a sibling.

I often wonder why God saw fit to give me a twin sister in the first place. We even share similar names, which is beyond annoying.

If you were ever unlucky enough to meet that fool, you'd be bored out of your mind within ten seconds. Not only is she dull, but she's also tasteless, obnoxious, unintelligent, and utterly irritating.

The only reason I refrain from calling her ugly is because she shares my face, and trust me, I am far from ugly. However, if you were to get to know her, you'd understand why I harbor such a strong dislike towards her.

No matter how hard she may work, she will always be beneath me.

"Mommy, I truly hope Ella will never return. She won't, right?" I ask with a pout, secretly reveling in the knowledge that Mom will always be on my side.

It matters little if I am wrong; she will still support me and abandon that foolish sibling of mine.

"Don't worry, baby. I've already found a suitable position for her in the company," my mom calmly assures me, and I am left speechless.

Is my mom slipping away from me? Does she already favor my senseless twin? Oh, dear God, I am utterly doomed.

"Mom, how could you? The plan was to completely remove Ella from the company, so she never discovers the truth," I shout angrily at my mother, desperately hoping that my charming tactics can still sway her.

"Relax, Elle. Remember, your father left the entire company to your sister, and you know the lengths I went through to forge another will, stating that you are the rightful owner. I don't want to completely oust your sister. What kind of mother would do that? I still have a reputation to uphold, and I need to appear as a good mother to both of my daughters," Mom explains calmly, but I can't shake off my dissatisfaction with the idea.

If only my father had been sensible enough to leave everything to me, things wouldn't be this way. He was a foolish, hypocritical father, leaving me with a mere few hundred million while granting real wealth and power to my idiotic sister.

It's not that I'm an exceptional designer, but this company holds immense power, and that's what I crave. Money isn't the only important thing to me; I long to be revered as a goddess, respected by everyone. And for that, I need this company.

I'm sorry, sister, but you will never possess that power, because you don't deserve it—I do.

"So, Mom, what position did you assign her? I hope it was something lowly, like a janitorial role," I hiss angrily, hoping my assumption is correct.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but it wasn't. I made her your secretary, so she can directly assist you without causing too much disruption," she reveals.

"Her mere presence in my life is disruptive, but don't worry, Mom. I can still trample all over her as much as I desire," I retort, envisioning myself triumphing over her at work.

Secretly, I hope that foolish girl accepts the position. It would be quite entertaining to watch her slave away while I effortlessly seize what is rightfully hers, without her even realizing it.