You’re just a grey mouse with no cash, snarled her friend, eyes flashing as she lingered by the doorway, a tray in hand on Olivia Eringtons birthday.
Maybe you just dont know how to sell yourself, Christina Bell stirred her cocktail lazily with a straw, a glittering bracelet catching the light on her wrist.
She spoke with that breezy, almost careless superiority that had long become her calling card.
It isnt about the pitch, Olivia replied quietly, studying the crack in her mug of cheap tea. I simply lack the experience required for this role.
Experience, experience how dull, Christina sighed theatrically. What matters is the sparkle in your eye and a pair of expensive shoes. You have neither.
Christina Bell swept a judging glance over Olivia, a look that made the younger woman want to curl into a ball, as if shed been scanned and sentenced: defectdispose.
Listen, Im trying to help, Christina leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorial. Youre my best friend. Who else will tell you the truth?
Olivia stayed silent. The words best friend lodged in her throat, sharp and foreign.
Understand this: in our world people are judged by their clothes, but dismissed by their connections. Youre a grey mouse with no cash. Until you accept that, youll keep floundering through pennypaying interviews.
Each sentence struck like a bullet, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Im launching a new project, Christina continued, reveling in Olivias reaction. It needs people for the simplest taskssorting paperwork, meeting couriers.
She paused, letting Olivia digest the offer.
I could take you on, temporarily, of course, until you find something that truly speaks to you, she added, a barely perceptible smile curving her lips.
Olivia lifted her gaze. In her eyes lay a calm steel, as if something inside had frozen into cold stone. She looked at Christinaperfectly coiffed hair, contemptuous curl of her lips, a bracelet worth more than Olivias annual salary. She no longer saw a friend, but a predatory hawk savoring her humiliation.
Thank you for the offer, Olivia said slowly. But Ill have to decline.
Christinas eyebrows shot up in surprise; she hadnt anticipated that.
Youre turning it down? From my chance? a metallic edge crept into her voice. Fine. Just dont come crawling back in tears when you cant afford the rent.
She dramatically fished out a stack of tenpound notes from her bag and tossed them onto the table, more than covering the bill.
Treat yourself, she muttered over her shoulder, then stalked away, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
Olivia sat alone, untouched by the money or the cooling tea. She stared out the window at sleek cars whizzing past and, for the first time, felt not despair but a fierce thrill.
The next morning that thrill hardened into a cold, pulsing energy. She had always been invisible, but she could see and hear what others misseddetails, patterns, hidden motives. That was her true capital.
Sitting at an aging laptop, she drafted a plan. She listed her services on a freelance platform: search and analysis of unstructured data. It sounded vague, but Olivia knew exactly what lay behind it.
The first months were hell: tiny gigs, capricious clients, pay that barely covered rent and a loaf of bread. A few times she nearly quit, ready to call Christina. Yet the memory of Christinas smile knocked the urge back down like a brick through a wall.
Breakthrough came after six months. A modest law firm hired her to gather competitor data ahead of a court case. Olivia threw herself into the work with desperate determination. A sleepless week later she delivered a report that helped the lawyers win. They paid her three times her usual rate and became regular clients, referring her to their contacts.
A trickle turned into a stream. Within two years she rented a modest office and hired an assistant.
Christina called now and then, her life sounding like an endless party.
Olivia, love! Im out on a yacht in the English Channel with some partners. Hows the little office? Christinas voice floated over the line.
Hi. Still here, working, Olivia replied, scanning the fresh financial statements of a new client.
Working? Christina stretched the word. Dont be shy, my girlontherun spot is still open. Bring coffee to my new assistant.
Olivia might have crumbled then, but she simply shrugged.
Thanks, but Ive got my own agency now.
Agency? Christina laughed, a harsh cackle. Agency for floorscrubbing?
Christinas words no longer held power.
Four more years passed. Erington & Partners occupied a sleek office in the City, five analysts on staff. Olivia had become renowned in corporate intelligence. Then Christina struck.
Her firm, Bell Group, stole one of Olivias key reports, hiring a debtladen junior employee and exploiting his weakness.
Olivia gathered every piece of evidence, uncovered Bells financial holes, wastefulness, and fraud, and sent an immaculate analytical report to a potential investor.
The next day Christina called, furious.
Youve ruined everything! she screamed.
I was only doing my job, Olivia answered calmly.
Two years later, at a rooftop restaurant atop a glassclad tower, Olivias birthday celebration glittered with friends, champagne, and music. Amid the waitstaff, she spotted Christina, uniformed, tray in hand. Their eyes metChristinas flickered with hatred, Olivias remained an icy calm.
Olivia regarded her without a hint of glee. She gave a barely perceptible nod, acknowledging Christinas presence as something ordinary, then turned back to her guests.
That small gesture struck louder than any slap. It meant one thing: for Olivia, Christina no longer existed as a person. She had become a faceless function, irrelevant to matters of consequence.
Christinas face drained, she bit her lip and, trying to cling to what remained of her dignity, hurried toward the staff exit.
Olivia watched her go and understood: the world arranges itself with a cruel fairness. Sometimes the one who calls you a grey mouse never sees the trap she herself steps into. It isnt revenge; its natural balance.
Epilogue
Six months later Olivias business had gone international, opening doors to new horizons. One evening, sorting through email, she opened a message from an old university acquaintance.
Can you believe I ran into Christina Bell today? Shes working as a receptionist at a gym on the outskirts. Apparently, after the scandal she was thrown out of that restaurant she even tried to borrow money from me, whining that everyone betrayed her and the worlds unfair
Olivia read the note, closed her laptop, and felt neither triumph nor pity. Christinas story was no longer hers.
The next day, passing a shop window, Olivia saw her reflection: a confident woman accustomed to moving forward, knowing her own worth.
She recalled Christinas mantra about the sparkle in the eyes and expensive shoes. Her shoes were indeed pricey, but the true sparkle had never come from them.
It was born from recognizing her own powerunderstanding that real value lay not in what you wear, but in what you create with mind and hand.
She walked into her office, where a new, complex project waited on the desk. Sitting in her chair, a faint smile played on her lips.
The grey mouse never became a ravenous cat. She transformed into what she always was deep inside: a keen, unseen hunter who values information and patiently waits for the right moment.
And that moment had finally arrived.
