"Outcome remains the same until you change the effort you are putting in." - Layla Ainsworth.
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In a high-end banquet.
The sound of chattering could be heard under the bright light of chandeliers.
In one of the corners, three women were chatting with each other.
"What do you think Miss Ainsworth is going to announce today?" A woman in a maroon gown with a bun hairstyle asked, curiosity flashing in her eye.
"It's related to her fiance Mr. Lockwood I guess." Another woman in a green satin dress reaching her knees answered. Her face had a knowing look.
"Ah! I must say, Miss Ainsworth is fortunate. Wealthy, healthy, and famous, now she gets engaged!" The woman in a maroon gown exclaimed.
"Fortunate? You must be mistaken! She originally belonged to a poor family with her knowledge she established a tech company on her own and slowly went from rags to riches. I truly envy her!" The woman in the green satin dress interrupted. Admiration flashed in her eyes.
The woman in the maroon gown shook her head in displeasure,
"What do you know? It was all earned with Mr. Lockwood's help. Miss Ainsworth was originally expelled from her university due to a plagiarism scandal. It was Mr. Lockwood who invested and researched along with Miss Ainsworth on their best-selling. So without Mr. Lockwood, she would be nothing more than a beggar. What I can't understand is...why Mr. Lockwood helped Miss Ainsworth in the first place."
Another woman dressed in a white bodycon dress, and curly hair intervened,
"Actually I know...It is said, Miss Ainsworth's simplicity touched Mr. Lockwood so..."
Unbeknownst to them, a figure lurking behind one of the pillars, heard their entire conversation. Envy flashed in the figure's eyes.
The figure clenched her hand and muttered,
"So that is why...that is why I lost to you...my dear sister..."
Just then a commotion sounded, attracting the attention of all the attendees.
Guests turned their heads as the tall, elegant woman entered through the grand doors.
Dressed in a sleek black tube gown, her designer black masquerade mask accentuated the striking contrast of her aqua-colored eyes and curly black hair cascading down her shoulders.
Each step she took was measured and graceful, commanding attention without uttering a word.
This was Layla Ainsworth, the renowned owner of one of the nation's leading tech companies. People paused their conversations, nodding respectfully as she passed.
Layla acknowledged each greeting with a polite smile before ascending the stage. But behind that smile hid the lonely soul.
Layla reached the stage and took the microphone in her hand, her poised demeanor drawing everyone's attention.
Just as she parted her lips to speak, a commotion broke out near the entrance.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as a cloaked figure, concealed by a shawl, surged forward.
The banquet's bodyguards swiftly intercepted the intruder, holding her back as she struggled against their grip.
"Let me go!" the figure shouted, her voice hoarse with desperation.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, curiosity, and alarm etched on their faces.
In the scuffle, the figure's shawl slipped from her shoulders, revealing a disheveled woman beneath.
Her face was smeared with dirt, her hair a tangled mess, and her ragged clothing made her look utterly out of place in the grand hall.
Despite her unkempt appearance, there was an undeniable resemblance to Layla—a similarity that struck like lightning through the crowd.
"Is that… Greta Ainsworth?" someone whispered, the name spreading like wildfire through the room.
A murmur of recognition followed, growing louder by the second.
Greta Ainsworth, once the dazzling star of the entertainment industry, had fallen from grace in the most scandalous of ways.
The crowd began recalling the infamous stories: Greta's rumored involvement in her brothers' deaths, the disgrace she brought upon her family, and her spiteful acts against Layla, including pouring dirty water on her to humiliate her.
"She's a disgrace to the Ainsworth name," someone muttered.
"She ruined herself and now dares to show up here?" another voice chimed in.
Layla stood still on the stage, her calm exterior betraying none of the storm inside her.
If she had met Greta 5 years ago, maybe she would still be holding a grudge against her. Greta ruined her teenage years to the point she was depressed.
But now, compared to all she had faced, Layla felt Greta was like a fly.
'I will deal with her after the banquet.' She thought.
Every debtor has to pay their debt.
Yet Layla's expression remained unreadable as she addressed the bodyguards.
"Let her through," she said, her voice steady but commanding.
The crowd erupted in shock, but Layla raised a hand, silencing them. The bodyguards hesitated before releasing Greta, who immediately dropped to her knees in front of the stage.
"Sister… I was wrong," Greta sobbed, her voice trembling. Tears carved clean paths through the grime on her face. "Please, forgive me. I've lost everything. I need to tell you something… something Aaron wanted you to know."
At the mention of Aaron, their late brother, a flicker of emotion crossed Layla's otherwise impassive face.
"What could you possibly know about Aaron?" Layla asked, her tone sharp, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of curiosity.
Greta shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "I can only tell you in private. Please… trust me just this once."
The crowd buzzed with disapproval, urging Layla to dismiss Greta and call for security. But Layla, despite her logical mind, felt a pang of longing. Could it be true? Did Greta hold a piece of Aaron's memory, something he had wanted her to know? Against her better judgment, she decided to take the risk.
Layla descended the stage, her every movement deliberate.
The guests watched in tense silence as she approached Greta, whose eyes glimmered with something unreadable—was it desperation, relief, or something darker?
The bodyguards stayed close, but Layla waved them back, stepping within arm's reach of her sister.
"What is it?" Layla asked.