Chapter 1: The Beginning of Visibility

I was 12 when I realized I was invisible. My name is Summer, and that day, I had spent three hours building a volcano for the science fair—perfect paper mâché, meticulously painted with a working eruption mechanism I figured out from library books. I was practically vibrating with excitement, eager for my parents to come home and see my creation. It was perfect—at least, I thought so.

They burst through the door, but it wasn’t for me.

Wyatt, my 10-year-old brother, had apparently scored the winning goal in his soccer game. The celebration was immediate and loud—Dad lifting him up, Mom taking a million photos, neighbors called over to hear the play-by-play. Meanwhile, my volcano sat forgotten on the kitchen table.

“That’s nice, honey,” Mom had said when she finally turned to look at me, barely glancing at my project. “Very volcanic.”

That was it. The volcano I had spent hours on, the one I had meticulously crafted with my own hands, went unnoticed. In that moment, I realized that I didn’t matter—not in the way Wyatt did. He was the one who got the attention, the applause, the adoration. I was just the quiet, responsible one.

Fast forward 19 years, and here I am, sitting at this same kitchen table, watching the exact same scene play out. Different props, same script.

“So the property values in that area are about to explode,” Wyatt says, gesturing wildly with his fork. “I’m talking a complete transformation—luxury condos, artisanal coffee shops, the whole gentrification package.”

Dad leans forward like Wyatt’s revealing the secrets of the universe. “How much are we talking about?”

“200,000 to start,” Wyatt says. “Maybe 300 to really make it sing.”

Mom clasps her hands together, eyes wide. “Oh, Wyatt, you’re so brilliant—just like your father was at your age.”

I take a sip of wine and try not to roll my eyes. Wyatt’s 29 now and has exactly zero successful business ventures under his belt. His last brilliant idea was a food truck that sold gourmet grilled cheese. It lasted three months before the health department shut it down.

“What about permits?” I ask. “Zoning laws? Have you actually researched the area’s development restrictions?”

The table goes quiet. Three pairs of eyes turn to me like I’ve just suggested we sacrifice a goat.

“Summer,” Dad says in that patient tone he uses when I’m being difficult, “let your brother explain his vision.”

“I’m just asking practical questions.”

“The beauty of this opportunity,” Wyatt continues, completely ignoring me, “is that I’ve got insider information. A buddy of mine works for the city planning department. This area is about to be rezoned for mixed-use development.”

“Insider information?” I set down my wine glass harder than necessary. “That sounds like… smart business.”

Mom interrupts, her voice dripping with pride. “Wyatt’s always been so good at networking.”

Of course he has. Wyatt could charm a snake into buying its own venom. Meanwhile, I’ve been working as an administrative assistant at a law firm for eight years—steadily climbing from receptionist to office manager—and my parents still introduce me as “our daughter, who’s really good with, you know, paperwork.”

“Actually,” I say, trying not to sound too bitter, “I’ve been thinking about some investment opportunities myself. There are some really interesting properties in the downtown area.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom reaches over and pats my hand like I’m still 12. “Real estate is so risky. You have such a stable job. Why would you want to jeopardize that?”

Because maybe I want more than stable, I think, but I don’t say it.

“Let’s stay grounded,” Dad interrupts. “We need to talk to you about something important.”

Here it comes. I can see it in their faces—the mixture of excitement and guilt that means they’re about to ask me for something while pretending it’s for my own good.

“We’ve decided to take out a second mortgage on the house,” Mom says, her voice trembling with hope.

The words hit me like a slap. “You’re mortgaging the family home?”

“It’s an investment in all our futures,” Dad says, his tone filled with certainty. “When Wyatt’s development takes off, we’ll all benefit.”

“And what if it doesn’t take off? What if it fails like the food truck, or the app idea, or the organic dog treat business?”

Wyatt’s face flushes. “Those were learning experiences!”

“Learning experiences that cost Mom and Dad thousands of dollars each time,” I mutter under my breath, but I don’t think anyone hears it.

Dad sighs. “Summer, your brother is trying to build something here. The least you can do is be supportive.”

“Supportive?” I say, my voice tight. “Right. Like I’ve been supportive my whole life—watching from the sidelines while you pour money and attention into Wyatt’s dreams while treating mine like cute hobbies?”

“Of course you’re supportive,” I lie, smiling through gritted teeth. “I just think we should be realistic about the risks.”

“That’s why we need you to stay grounded,” Mom says. “Someone in this family needs to keep their feet on the ground. You’re our safety net, honey. Our reliable one.”

Their safety net. Their backup plan. Never their first choice. Never their pride and joy. Just their insurance policy against Wyatt’s inevitable failures.

I smile and nod and help clear the dishes, playing my role perfectly—the good daughter, the responsible one, the one who will pick up the pieces when everything falls apart. But later that night, alone in my apartment, I open my laptop and start researching property listings.

I’ve been saving money for years, living modestly while my parents funded Wyatt’s fantasies. I’ve got enough for a down payment—maybe two if I’m careful. They want me to be their safety net? Fine. But this time, I’m building my own foundation first. They’ll never see me coming.

End of Chapter 1

 

Chapter 2: Hidden Ambitions

The next morning, I go to work at Henderson & Associates, where my biggest challenge is keeping the coffee machine stocked and remembering which partner likes their documents stapled versus paper-clipped. I take a deep breath as I walk into the office, the weight of yesterday’s conversation still hanging in the back of my mind. My role as the responsible one, the good daughter, always the backup plan, had started to feel suffocating. But that night, I had made the decision to take back control.

I’m not just an admin assistant. I’m more than that, and I’m going to prove it.

“Summer, can you make 15 copies of this contract and have them ready by lunch?” Mr. Peterson, one of the senior partners, hands me a thick stack of papers. I take them with a smile, even though I want to scream. Another thrilling day at the office, where my biggest challenge is doing the same thing I’ve been doing for years—handling paperwork, answering calls, being invisible. But that’s fine. Let them think I’m just the reliable admin who keeps their office running. They have no idea that last night, I spent three hours analyzing cap rates and cash flow projections for a duplex in the Riverside district.

My phone buzzes with a text from Mila.

Mila: “Coffee after work? Found three more properties.”

Mila Blake is the only person who knows what I’m really doing. We met two years ago at a financial literacy workshop. I was the student, and she was the instructor. Brilliant with numbers, practical with advice, and completely unimpressed by flashy presentations. In other words, everything my family isn’t.

Laurel: “Absolutely.”

The usual place is a coffee shop downtown, far enough from my neighborhood that I won’t run into anyone I know. I need to keep this part of my life quiet for now.

Mila’s already there when I arrive. She’s surrounded by printouts, highlighters, and her laptop. “Okay, so I ran the numbers on those three properties you flagged,” she says without preamble. “The duplex on Maple Street is a solid buy. Good bones, decent neighborhood. Rent potential is strong.”

I slide into the booth across from her. “What about the financing?”

“You’re looking at about 15,000 down with conventional financing. Your credit score is excellent, and income is steady, so the bank shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

15,000. It’s most of my savings, but I’ve been living like a monk for two years—squirreling away every extra dollar while Wyatt was buying rounds at bars and taking weekend trips to Vegas. I was eating ramen and shopping at thrift stores, all while my parents were pouring money into his latest ventures.

Mila pauses, then leans forward. “There’s one problem, though.”

“What’s that?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop.

“The seller is motivated, but there’s competition. Another buyer put in an offer yesterday.”

“How much competition are we talking about?”

“Real estate agent named Harmony Lane. Ring any bells?”

My stomach drops. “Yeah, she’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend.”

Mila raises an eyebrow. “Awkward?”

“Think of her as my brother’s disastrous love life turned into a business venture. She dumped him last year for being financially irresponsible.”

“What’s her offer?”

“Same as yours—asking price, conventional financing. It’s going to come down to who the seller likes better.”

I start my engine as I drive home later that evening. My hands are shaking, but I can’t afford to slow down. Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend, the one who knew all the wrong things about him, is now up against me in the most important purchase of my life. This isn’t just business anymore. It’s personal.

Chapter 3: The Bid

The next day, after sending off the email with my offer, I drove to the duplex on Maple Street. The entire trip, I had to fight the urge to turn back. What was I doing? Was I really about to spend all this money? Was I prepared to risk everything?

I parked in front of the house. The neighborhood was quiet—suburban, with tree-lined streets and the occasional dog walker passing by. The duplex was nothing to write home about. Solid brick construction, worn wooden floors, and outdated kitchen counters. But it had the kind of potential I’d been looking for. The rentability was there. The location was prime. And the price? Well, that was the biggest selling point.

I walked up the driveway and rang the bell. Mrs. Rodriguez, the seller, greeted me with a warm smile. She was in her mid-seventies, sharp-eyed and spry despite her age. She led me into the house, and I took in the familiar scent of old furniture and cleaning products. The place needed work, but not as much as I expected. Nothing structural, just cosmetic. I could do this.

“You seem very young to be buying rental property,” Mrs. Rodriguez commented as we walked through the first unit. She was sizing me up, trying to figure out if I was serious, or just another naive buyer.

“I’ve been saving for this for a long time,” I said with a smile, hoping to look more confident than I felt. “I work in property management. I understand what it takes to maintain a building like this.”

She nodded approvingly. “The other buyer seemed more interested in flipping it. She kept talking about granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. But this is a good neighborhood—working families. They don’t need fancy fixtures. They need reliable landlords.”

I smiled. This was it. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. I had done my research. I had the money. I could make this work.

Two hours later, we sat down at the kitchen table, and she accepted my offer. It was thrilling, but also terrifying. I had made the first step. I was really doing this. But as I signed the papers, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

As I walked out of the house and into my car, I checked my phone. There was a message from Mila.

Mila: “Harmony saw you. She knows you’re interested in the property.”

My stomach dropped. Of course she saw me. Harmony had eyes everywhere. It wasn’t a surprise, really. She had been Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend and had been more involved in his business ventures than anyone should have been. But now she was working against me.

I texted Mila back, my hands shaking.

Laurel: “I’ll handle it.”

Chapter 4: The Auction

The next few days passed in a blur. My offer had been accepted, but now the waiting began. I was in full planning mode—researching neighborhoods, contractors, insurance policies. It was exciting, but also overwhelming. I wasn’t just playing at this anymore. This was real.

Then, three weeks later, the auction for the Maple Street duplex was set. I showed up early, just to make sure everything went smoothly. The property had garnered some attention, but I wasn’t the only one interested. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it would be easy.

The morning of the auction, I stood outside my duplex, watching contractors work on the flooring. My phone buzzed. It was Mila.

Mila: “It’s going to be competitive, but you’ve got this. Stick to the plan, don’t let them pressure you.”

I took a deep breath. The nerves were starting to creep in. I had to stay focused. This was my future. This was my chance to show everyone—not just my family, but myself—that I could do this.

Around noon, I drove over to the auction site. The area was packed with investors, real estate agents, and curious onlookers. I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling the heat of my decision press down on me. I could back out. I could walk away. But no, I wasn’t going to do that. I had worked too hard for this.

The auctioneer, Dwayne Duncan, set up a table under a pop-up tent. I recognized a few faces in the crowd, including some of Wyatt’s shady acquaintances. Harmony was there, of course, standing near the front, her sleek suit making her look every bit the part of a professional. She caught my eye across the lawn and gave me a knowing smile.

“Summer,” she said, stepping forward to greet me. “What a surprise to see you here.”

I forced a smile. “Harmony, you’re looking well.”

She smirked. “I thought you were just the administrative assistant. Real estate seems a bit… outside your usual scope.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back the anger. “I’m here to bid, just like you.”

She laughed lightly. “You’re right, of course. I just didn’t expect someone like you to go head-to-head with me.”

I didn’t have time for her games. “Let’s see who wins, then.”

The bidding began shortly after. People raised their paddles, and the numbers began climbing. I could see Harmony’s competitive side, but I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

By the time the bidding hit $900,000, Harmony was visibly frustrated. She raised her paddle once again, calling out a final bid: “1 million.”

I held my breath, watching as the auctioneer scanned the crowd. I knew what was at stake now. I had come this far, and I wasn’t about to lose the property. I had to win. I raised my paddle. “1.1 million.”

There was a brief pause. Harmony’s smile faltered as she realized she had been outbid.

“Going once… going twice… sold to bidder number seven,” Dwayne announced, pointing at me.

The crowd erupted in murmurs. I could see Harmony’s face pale as she processed what had just happened. I felt a rush of triumph, but a part of me—just a small part—felt guilty. This was about more than just real estate now. It was about proving something to myself.

I smiled and walked away, the weight of the auction result settling in. I had won.

Chapter 5: The Deal

Three weeks after the auction, I stood in the kitchen of my duplex again. The renovations were going smoothly, and the contractors were nearly finished. I was feeling more confident now that the property was officially mine. But there was one thing I hadn’t prepared for.

I checked my phone. It was a text from my mom.

“Summer, can you come over? We need to talk.”

I threw on my jacket and made my way to their house, not knowing what to expect. When I arrived, they were sitting at the kitchen table. My dad looked grim, and my mom’s eyes were red. It was Wyatt. I could tell.

“What’s going on?” I asked, taking a seat across from them.

“The development project hit some snags,” Dad said, looking exhausted. “Permitting issues, environmental surveys, and the costs are higher than expected.”

“How much higher?” I asked, trying to stay calm, but already dreading the answer.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look. “Another $100,000,” Mom whispered.

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. “What? You’re mortgaging the house for $200,000, and now you need another $100,000?”

“This is real estate, Summer,” Dad said, trying to explain. “It’s solid. Wyatt’s just working through the kinks.”

“Has Wyatt ever successfully flipped a property?” I asked, my voice rising. “Has he ever managed a construction project? Has he done anything in real estate except watch HGTV?”

Dad sighed. “Your brother is trying to build something here. The least you can do is be supportive.”

“Supportive? Like I’ve always been supportive while you pour money into Wyatt’s dreams and treat mine like hobbies?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He’s living on borrowed time and your money.”

They stared at me, but I didn’t care anymore. I wasn’t going to support Wyatt’s fantasy anymore. Not when it meant sacrificing everything I had worked for. “No. I’m not co-signing anything. You’ll figure it out.”

End of Chapter 5

Chapter 6: The Deal is Done

The days after the auction passed in a blur. I found myself walking through the duplex at odd hours, checking the renovations, making sure everything was moving forward. The contractors were on schedule, the new flooring was being installed, and the place was beginning to look more like something I had envisioned. I was trying to stay focused, but the events from that day—the auction, Harmony’s constant taunting, and the crushing weight of my family’s expectations—kept creeping back into my mind.

I was playing a dangerous game, and now, it was time to face the consequences. I had made the decision to step out from the shadows. I had been my family’s safety net for years, quietly supporting them, picking up the pieces whenever things fell apart. But now? I was the one holding the pieces together. I was building something for myself, even if it meant doing so behind their backs.

The next morning, as I was driving into work, my phone buzzed with a text from Mila.

Mila: “I heard about Wyatt’s latest meltdown. Are you okay?”

Laurel: “Yeah, just a lot on my plate. Trying to keep the renovations moving and not get sucked into their drama.”

Mila had been my lifeline through all of this. She knew what I was really up to—how I was quietly investing, building a future for myself while my family expected me to stay their fallback plan. She didn’t judge. She understood.

Mila texted back almost immediately.

Mila: “You need to stay focused. I know this is tough, but you’re doing the right thing.”

I smiled at the text, feeling a bit of reassurance. But at the same time, I knew the game was just getting started. I wasn’t ready to let Wyatt or Harmony—or anyone else—take away what I had worked so hard to build.

That night, as I sat down for dinner alone in my apartment, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from my mom.

Mom: “Summer, can you come over? We need to talk.”

I stared at the message for a while, trying to figure out what it was about. The last time she asked me over, it was to beg for money, to pressure me into co-signing the loan. What now?

I stood up and grabbed my keys, heading out the door. My mind raced, but I told myself I couldn’t let them manipulate me again. I had already made my decision. I had to keep moving forward.

When I arrived, I found my parents sitting in the living room. Wyatt was there too, looking agitated. His usual cocky demeanor was replaced with a quiet intensity. He glanced at me when I entered, but said nothing.

“What’s going on?” I asked, taking a seat across from them.

Wyatt cleared his throat, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I messed up. Big time.”

Mom and Dad exchanged worried glances. Wyatt’s failures were becoming too much to ignore, even for them.

“I’m being sued,” he said, looking at the floor. “The investors… they want their money back. And it’s not just about the permits anymore. I’ve got buyers pulling out, and I don’t have the funds to cover it.”

I leaned back, absorbing his words. This was it. The failure I had been waiting for, the one I knew was coming. I’d been watching him chase these empty dreams, pouring money into his ventures, and now it was all falling apart.

“What kind of money are we talking about?” I asked, my voice steady.

Wyatt didn’t answer at first, but then he looked up, his face pale. “A hundred thousand at least. And that’s just the start. The legal fees, the backers… it’s a mess.”

I took a deep breath. It was happening. The inevitable collapse. My family was being dragged down by Wyatt’s mismanagement, and now they were turning to me, the responsible one, to fix it.

But I wasn’t going to play the same role again. I had my own future to build, my own foundation to solidify. I couldn’t keep propping them up while they ignored the cracks in their own lives.

I turned to my parents. “What do you expect me to do? You’ve already mortgaged the house, and now you want me to bail him out? Again?”

Mom’s eyes were wide with desperation. “Summer, please. We need you. We can’t lose everything. We’ve already invested so much into Wyatt’s project. Please. We’re asking you to help.”

I felt a wave of frustration rise in me. I had been the one left behind, the one who never got the support I needed. I had been stuck playing the part of the reliable one, the safe one. But not anymore.

“I can’t do this,” I said firmly, standing up. “I can’t keep saving you.”

They stared at me, stunned. But the truth was clear. I had my own life to build, and if I kept tying myself to them, I would never be able to grow. I needed to make my own future—not for them, but for myself.

Chapter 7: The Fallout

The following days after the auction were tense, filled with long silences at the dinner table, Wyatt’s sulking, and my parents alternating between concern and denial. My victory at the auction, buying the family home out from under them, seemed to haunt every conversation we had. They didn’t know what to make of it. They didn’t know what to say to me.

Wyatt, predictably, was furious. He didn’t understand how I could have “taken” the house from them. But I wasn’t doing this for the power. I wasn’t playing the game to win for the sake of winning. I was finally standing up for myself.

I couldn’t help but wonder what had gone through his mind when he saw the house was gone. It was the final straw. His project, the thing he had dragged the whole family into, was on the brink of failure, and my victory felt like a kick in the ribs for him.

I didn’t hear from him for a few days after the auction. I didn’t expect an apology, but part of me had hoped for some kind of acknowledgment. Anything that showed he understood the consequences of his reckless behavior. Instead, all I got was silence.

It was early evening when I got a message from Wyatt.

Wyatt: “We need to talk. Meet me at the café.”

I didn’t hesitate. I was done hiding, and I was ready to face him. To face everything.

When I arrived, Wyatt was already sitting at the table, his fingers drumming nervously on his coffee cup. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—his usual smooth demeanor replaced by something raw, something real.

“Summer,” he started, voice tight. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for what? Mortgaging our home? Putting everything at risk? Or sorry that I finally decided to stop playing the backup plan?”

His face flushed. “No. I mean… I don’t know. I don’t know how I got here. But I’m sorry for making you the bad guy.”

I wanted to say something, something that would make him understand how much he had hurt us. But I didn’t want to take the easy route. I didn’t want to play the role of the disappointed sister anymore. I had been doing that for too long.

“Wyatt,” I said, my voice steady, “this isn’t about me being the bad guy. This is about you taking everything for granted. You had a family who would do anything for you, and you threw it away. You kept playing the dreamer, while the rest of us were the ones holding it all together.”

He looked down, staring at his hands. “I know. I was an idiot.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I had to fight the urge to tell him everything I’d been holding back—about how I had watched him mess up over and over again, how he had put us all through the ringer. But there was something different in his eyes now, something that made me think maybe he wasn’t as far gone as I had believed.

“You’re not an idiot,” I said, the words catching in my throat. “You’re just… lost. And you’ve been dragging everyone down with you.”

Wyatt’s expression softened. “I know. I’ve ruined so many things… I don’t even know where to start.”

I sat down across from him, folding my arms. “It starts with you. You need to stop trying to fix everything with shortcuts and ‘get rich quick’ schemes. You need to actually build something real, Wyatt.”

His eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I want to. But I don’t know how.”

“You start by owning up to your mistakes. By working harder than you’ve ever worked before. No more excuses. No more ‘brilliant ideas’ that you think are going to fix everything overnight. It’s time for you to grow up.”

We sat in silence for a while. Wyatt’s hands shook slightly, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to keep being the responsible one. I could see in his face that he understood. Maybe not completely, but enough to know that things had to change.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” he said quietly. “No money, no big ideas. I’ve got nothing.”

I reached into my bag and pulled out the contract for the duplex I had purchased. “This,” I said, pushing it across the table, “is something. It’s my something. And it’s something I did without needing anyone to bail me out. It’s time you started building your own future, Wyatt. No more using Mom and Dad as a safety net.”

He stared at the contract for a long time, then looked up at me. “I don’t know if I can do it. But I’ll try. I’ll start small. I’ll start by getting a real job. No more pretending. No more shortcuts.”

I nodded. “That’s a start.”

Chapter 8: Crossing the Line

It had been weeks since I purchased the duplex. The renovations were going smoothly, contractors were on-site, and Mila had been my constant partner in crime. She wasn’t just helping me secure financing; she was showing me the ropes—how to deal with contractors, how to negotiate rates, and most importantly, how to protect myself from the mistakes I knew could easily trap me in a web of debt. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

But there was a part of me that still felt like an imposter. Every time I stepped into the construction zone, part of me still questioned whether I belonged there. Could I really do this? Could I build something of my own from scratch, without the security of my family’s approval or the weight of their expectations?

I wasn’t sure, but I was determined to try.

Then, one evening, the phone rang. It was Mila.

“Summer, it’s time. We need to talk about your next move.”

I took a deep breath. We had been through this dance before—me hesitating, her pushing me forward, reminding me that it was time to step into the world I had spent so many years avoiding. The world of real estate and investment, a world where I could either make my mark or watch from the sidelines forever.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, staring out at the empty lot in front of the duplex.

“I’ve got a new property for you,” Mila said. “It’s a mixed-use development in a growing area. You can’t pass this one up.”

I paused. This wasn’t just a renovation; this was an investment. This could be the moment I built something lasting. But that little voice in the back of my head kept asking, What if you fail?

I pushed the thought away. “Send me the details. I’ll take a look.”

The next morning, I sat down at my kitchen table with a stack of documents from Mila. The property was a mixed-use space—an old commercial building that had the potential to be converted into luxury apartments with commercial spaces on the ground floor. The location was ideal, with public transportation close by and a burgeoning neighborhood on the rise.

I had done my homework. I had saved every penny, worked multiple jobs to keep my head above water while my family had built their dreams on my shoulders. I had enough for a down payment, and I could see the potential. This was the break I had been waiting for.

But then, as I looked over the paperwork again, a familiar name appeared on the list of previous owners.

Harmony Lane.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Harmony had been Wyatt’s ex-girlfriend, and she had always been a thorn in my side. I didn’t need to be reminded of how she had manipulated my brother, how she had been part of the tangled mess that had left our family drowning in debt.

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. Harmony was involved in this property? She was one of the previous owners? My gut told me this was no coincidence. She had probably been following the same trail, targeting prime properties and flipping them for a profit. And now, she had gotten to this one before me.

But this was my moment. I wasn’t going to let her take it from me. I had worked too hard to get here, and I wasn’t about to back down just because she was involved.

That evening, I met with Mila at our usual coffee shop. She had a few other properties to show me, but my mind kept drifting back to the mixed-use development.

“Did you get the documents?” she asked, pulling out her laptop and opening the folder.

“I did,” I said. “But there’s a problem. Harmony Lane is listed as a previous owner.”

Mila raised an eyebrow. “That’s… interesting. You think she’s going to try to outbid you?”

“Absolutely,” I said, my voice tight. “She always has to get her way. She doesn’t take kindly to losing.”

“Well,” Mila said, leaning forward with a smirk, “she’s not the only one who plays this game. What’s your move?”

I felt a surge of determination. “I’m going to outbid her. I’ve got the capital. I’ve got the will. And this property is mine.”

Mila studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You’re sure about this? This is the big leagues, Summer. You’ll be in competition with some serious players. You need to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m not going to let her take this from me.”

The bidding for the property started a few weeks later. I sat in the auction room, my heart pounding in my chest. The excitement of the competition, the stakes, everything was building to this moment. Harmony was there, too, sitting a few rows in front of me. I could feel her gaze on the back of my head, sharp, calculating.

The bids started climbing quickly. There was another investor—a professional flipper—who was also eyeing the property, but it was Harmony and I who were going back and forth, each of us trying to outbid the other.

“1.1 million,” I called out, raising my paddle, my heart pounding in my chest.

Harmony shot me a glare, her lips curling into a tight smile. “1.2 million,” she responded almost immediately.

I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t backing down now. “1.3 million.”

The auctioneer looked between us, his gavel raised. “1.3 million going once… going twice…”

“1.5 million,” Harmony snapped, her voice cutting through the room.

I froze, my pulse racing. I didn’t have that much. Not yet. But I had to keep going. I had to. This was everything.

“1.6 million,” I called out.

The auctioneer paused, eyeing the crowd. “Sold!” he announced, and I realized with a sickening shock that I had won.

I had won. But at what cost?

Chapter 9: The Reckoning

The week after the auction felt like a blur. The excitement of winning the property—the rush of securing something tangible, something real—had faded, replaced with a quiet sense of dread. The duplex was mine now, but the stakes were higher than I’d ever imagined. I had invested everything—my savings, my future—into this property. There was no turning back now.

I woke up every morning with a tight knot in my stomach, unsure if I was going to succeed or fail. The renovations were underway, but I had to remind myself every day that I was doing this for me. This wasn’t about my family anymore. It wasn’t about being their safety net or doing what was expected of me. It was about building something of my own.

But as the days dragged on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. My mind kept drifting back to the auction, to the bidding war with Harmony. It wasn’t just about the property. Harmony was involved, and that was more than a coincidence. Harmony had always been the thorn in my side, and now, she knew exactly who I was and what I was doing. She knew I was a threat.

That evening, as I was sitting at my desk, analyzing renovation costs and projected rents, my phone buzzed. I glanced down, seeing an unfamiliar number. I hesitated, then answered.

“Hello?”

“Summer,” her voice slid through the phone, smooth and unnervingly calm. Harmony. “I think it’s time we talk about your future.”

My heart sank. “What do you want, Harmony?”

“Oh, I’m not the one who wants something, Summer,” she said, her voice too sweet for comfort. “I’m just offering you an opportunity. I know you’ve been buying properties—more than one, if I’m not mistaken. And I think we can help each other.”

I stiffened. “Help each other? You’ve got a funny way of showing it. You’ve been trying to sabotage me from the beginning.”

Her laugh was light, almost amused. “Oh, come on. You really think I’m trying to sabotage you? I’m just trying to offer you a chance to expand your little empire. Think about it, Summer. You want to make it big, don’t you? I have connections. I have the resources. Together, we could make this work. Think of the profits.”

I clenched my fist. She was right. I wanted more. But I also knew Harmony. She was nothing more than a shark circling the waters, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I wasn’t going to fall into her trap.

“I don’t need your help,” I said firmly, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a heavy silence before she spoke again. “Are you sure? Because you know, Summer, I could tell your family exactly what you’ve been doing behind their backs. How you’ve been using your little LLC to buy properties all over the city. They might not appreciate knowing you’ve been playing this game in secret.”

I froze. My heart skipped a beat. She knew. She knew everything.

“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Try me,” she purred, her voice dripping with malice. “I’ve got a lot of influence, Summer. And I think your family would love to know how you’ve been building your little empire while they struggle to keep their heads above water.”

My hands shook as I ended the call. I had no idea how long Harmony had known. How much had she really found out? How much damage could she do? I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of everything I’d worked for—everything I’d risked—press down on me.

I stared at my phone screen, trying to keep my composure, but the truth was clear: this wasn’t just about real estate anymore. Harmony was playing a dangerous game, and if I didn’t act quickly, she would find a way to expose me.

I knew I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her tear everything down. But I wasn’t going to let her control me either.

The next morning, I walked into the office, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. I had to focus. I had to keep everything together. But no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on work, my mind kept going back to Harmony’s threat. She had leverage. She had the power to ruin everything. And yet, I couldn’t let her win. I couldn’t back down.

That afternoon, I called Mila. I needed her advice. I needed to know how to handle this, how to take control back from Harmony.

“Summer,” Mila answered, her voice calm. “You can’t let her do this. You’ve worked too hard to let someone like her derail you.”

“I know,” I replied, pacing in my office. “But she has everything. She knows about the LLC, about my investments. She’s threatening to expose me to my family. If she does that, everything I’ve worked for will be destroyed.”

Mila was silent for a moment. “You have to play the long game, Summer. Don’t let her rush you into a decision. Take a step back, and think about what you need to do next. You’ve got this.”

I knew she was right. Harmony was trying to push me into a corner, but I wouldn’t let her. I wasn’t going to let anyone dictate my future. Not even her.

Chapter 10: Starting Over

The weight of the world seemed to fall on my shoulders as I sat in the dimly lit living room, listening to my parents explain Wyatt’s latest disaster. My mind raced, but I kept my face impassive. I knew this moment was coming, but I hadn’t expected it to feel like this. My family’s problems, Wyatt’s failures, and their endless expectations—it all came crashing down in a single conversation.

“Summer,” Dad’s voice broke through my thoughts, his tone filled with an emotion I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. “We… we don’t know what to do. We can’t help Wyatt this time.”

The words stung. They had always relied on me—the steady, responsible one—to fix things when everything fell apart. But this time, I wasn’t sure I could fix it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Mom clasped her hands in her lap, her eyes red from crying. “Wyatt’s been arrested for fraud, Summer. And now… now he’s facing serious charges. The investors are furious. They want their money back, and they’re demanding compensation for damages.”

I took a deep breath, trying to process the information. Wyatt had been reckless for so long, making bad decisions without facing any consequences. But now, the consequences were real, and they were too big to ignore.

“Do you know what this means?” I asked quietly, my voice shaking despite myself. “We’re all going to be dragged into this. His mess is going to be our mess, whether we like it or not.”

Dad lowered his head, looking defeated. He had always been the one to keep the peace, but I could see in his eyes that he had finally come to terms with the reality of Wyatt’s choices.

“We don’t have the money to bail him out,” Mom whispered. “We don’t have enough left. We’re losing everything. The house, the savings, everything.”

I felt a sharp pang in my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the fear in their voices, or the worry that had crept into their words. It was that I had watched them enable Wyatt’s reckless behavior for years. Every time he failed, they had picked him up. Every time he made a mistake, they swept it under the rug. And now, they were asking me to bail him out again.

The anger that had been simmering inside me finally began to bubble to the surface. I had been the safety net for this family for too long, the reliable daughter who always showed up, always did the right thing. I had played the responsible one, the one who cleaned up the messes and kept everything together. But what about me? What had I built for myself?

I looked at my parents, both of them sitting there, looking lost. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed. They had put all their hopes into Wyatt, expecting him to succeed where I had always been the invisible one. I wasn’t asking for their approval; I wasn’t even asking for their support. But I was tired of being the backup plan.

“No,” I said firmly, my voice gaining strength. “I’m not bailing Wyatt out this time.”

“What?” Mom looked at me, her face a mask of confusion. “What do you mean, you’re not helping?”

“I mean exactly what I said.” I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ve been saving my money for years, working my ass off, building something for myself. I didn’t put everything I had into Wyatt’s dreams. I didn’t give him my future. And I’m not going to clean up his mess anymore.”

Dad’s face darkened, and he stood up as well. “Summer, don’t do this. You’re part of this family. We need you.”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. “You’ve always expected me to be the responsible one, to pick up the pieces when everything falls apart. But I’m done. You’ve been enabling Wyatt for years, giving him everything he wanted while I stood on the sidelines, waiting for my turn. I’m not doing it anymore.”

For the first time in years, I felt like I was finally speaking my truth, saying the things I had kept bottled up for far too long. My family had always been quick to dismiss me, quick to treat my dreams like hobbies. But this was my moment, and I wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Mom stood up, her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand, Summer. Wyatt is your brother. We’ve always supported you—how could you turn your back on us now?”

I met her gaze, and for a moment, I saw the woman who had always put everyone else’s dreams before her own. But I wasn’t going to let that guilt trap me anymore. I wasn’t going to carry their burdens. I wasn’t going to be their fallback plan.

“I’m not turning my back on you,” I said, my voice steady. “But I have to build my own life now. I have to stop being invisible. I’ve been living in the shadows, trying to make everyone else happy, and I can’t do it anymore.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The words had been in me for so long, and finally, they were out. I wasn’t their safety net anymore. I was building something for myself, and no one—not Wyatt, not my parents, and certainly not Harmony—was going to take that away from me.

Chapter 10: Starting Over

The days that followed were a mixture of clarity and turmoil. I had made my decision, but the aftermath was still settling in. My parents didn’t understand, and I didn’t expect them to. Wyatt was angry, and I could see the resentment building between us. But I wasn’t going to back down. I had worked too hard to get to this point.

I spent the next week focusing on my duplex. The contractors were working around the clock, and I was doing everything I could to make sure the project stayed on track. Every step forward felt like a step toward my future—a future that was mine to build.

Mila called me that afternoon, her voice filled with excitement. “Summer, I’ve got another property for you. It’s in the Riverside district, and it’s perfect for a long-term rental.”

I leaned back in my chair, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I’m in. Send me the details.”

The more I worked, the more I realized how much I had been holding myself back. It wasn’t just about the property. It was about me. I was finally taking control of my future. No more second chances. No more playing the responsible daughter.

That evening, after I finished working on the duplex, I received a call from my mom. Her voice sounded strained, but there was something else in it too—something I hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Summer,” she said, her voice trembling. “We need to talk.”

I hesitated, but I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever. I drove to their house, feeling the weight of what I had to face. When I walked in, I saw my parents sitting at the kitchen table, Wyatt standing off to the side. His expression was unreadable.

“Summer,” Dad said, his voice softer than usual. “We’ve thought about what you said.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I wanted to hear them out, but I knew that the truth had been spoken. I wasn’t going to be their safety net anymore. I wasn’t going to put my future on hold just to clean up their messes.

“We’re sorry,” Mom whispered, her voice breaking. “We’ve always taken you for granted. You’ve been the one who always did the right thing, and we never realized the cost.”

I nodded slowly. I wasn’t ready to forgive them. Not yet. But I could see the sincerity in their eyes. They had finally seen me for who I really was—not just the responsible one, but a person with my own dreams, my own life.

“I’ve built something for myself,” I said quietly. “And I’m not going to give it up for anyone anymore. Not for Wyatt. Not for you.”

Wyatt stepped forward, his face weary. “I get it, Summer. I’ve been selfish. I was too focused on my own ideas to see what I was doing to the people who cared about me. I’m sorry. I know I can’t fix it, but I want to try.”

For the first time, I saw the man he could be. Not the reckless dreamer, but someone willing to take responsibility for his actions. I didn’t have all the answers, but I knew that things were changing. Slowly, but surely, we were all starting to see each other as we truly were.

“I’ll support you,” I said, looking at Wyatt. “But you have to make it right. Not just with me, but with yourself.”

I turned to my parents. “And you, too. No more enabling Wyatt’s mistakes. I can’t be the one who picks up the pieces every time.”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But as I walked out of their house that night, something shifted inside me. I wasn’t invisible anymore. I was taking control, and nothing, not Wyatt’s mistakes or my family’s expectations, could take that away from me.

I was starting over, and this time, I was building it on my own terms.

End!