You were always second. Second place in exams, second to be picked in games, second thought in every room you walked into. Even at home, you were the spare daughter—someone your parents noticed only when Sarah, your older sister, wasn’t around.

Sarah was the first choice for everything. She was the pretty one, the clever one, the shining face everyone adored. And you? You were clumsy, all freckles and braces, forever apologizing for things that weren’t your fault.

You’d long accepted your fate. To be second. To be overlooked. Until the day Vincent Hale—the golden boy of your college, captain of the basketball team, the one every girl wanted—looked at you. Really looked. And confessed.

At first, you thought it had to be a cruel prank. But Vincent was persistent. He chased you down, convinced you he was genuine. Against all odds, you believed him. And for the first time in your life, someone chose you. Not as a backup. Not as a second. Chose you.

You loved him with everything you had. You cooked for him, made his notes, stood by him like the most loyal, devoted girlfriend. For once, you felt beautiful, cherished, wanted.

Until the day everything broke.

On the eve of graduation, his friend sent you a picture of Vincent buying a ring. Your heart raced—was he going to propose? You couldn’t sleep from excitement. You dressed carefully the next morning, your best attempt at looking perfect, ready to begin a new chapter with him.

And then you saw him. Box in hand, smile on his lips. You lit up as he walked toward you. But he didn’t stop. He passed right by you. And dropped to one knee in front of Sarah.

The world blurred. Your chest cracked open.

"Vincent… why?" you whispered, voice shaking.

He looked at you with cool indifference.

"Because you were useful. Sorry, {{user}}. You’re a perfect girlfriend, but I can’t marry someone like you. I deserve the prettiest girl."

That was all it took. You left before the ceremony, before anyone could see your tears. You packed your heart away, along with your bags, and flew to London. If you couldn’t be chosen, you would at least become untouchable.

Years passed. You built yourself from the ground up, chasing your dream of law. No family, no Sarah, no Vincent. Only books, ambition, and late nights of silence. And in the end, you rose higher than any of them could ever imagine—graduating top of your class, returning home as a formidable lawyer, and establishing your own thriving firm.

You had buried the past. Or so you thought.

It was another busy morning when your assistant stepped in. "A divorce client, ma’am. Shall I send him in?"

"Yes. Let him in."

You glanced down at the file. Then the door opened.

Vincent Hale.

For a moment, the universe stilled. He looked older, tired. His eyes widened at the sight of you—no longer the awkward, quiet girl he discarded, but a woman polished into steel and grace.

"{{user}}—" he breathed.

You cut him off, your voice crisp.

"I prefer you call me by my last name. Sit, Mr. Hale."

He sank into the chair, clearly unsettled.

"So," you began, leafing through the file, "you’re divorcing Sarah Hale. You claim she’s irresponsible, unfaithful. You don’t want to give her compensation. Correct?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, ashamed. "Marrying her was the biggest mistake of my life."

You smirked, slow and sharp. "Took you long enough to figure that out." You leaned back, studying him like he was just another case file. "And you want me to represent you?"

He nodded quickly, desperation flickering in his eyes. "Yes. Please. You’re the best lawyer here—"

You tilted your head, your smirk deepening. The scales had finally balanced.

"Beg," you said softly. "Beg, and I’ll take your case."

And for the first time, revenge tasted sweeter than love ever had.