My husbands family shamed me for being poor, but they had no clue Im the heiress to a fortuneand they were part of my experiment.
James, honestly, what on earth is she wearing? Margarets voice dripped with false sweetness, her disdain barely concealed. That dress looks like it came from a charity shop. I saw one just like it last weekend at a car boot sale. Five quid, at most.
I adjusted the collar of my simple blue dressplain, unassuming, like everything I wore. It was part of the strict agreement Id made with my grandfather.
James, my husband, shifted uncomfortably and avoided my gaze.
Mum, leave it. The dress is fine.
Fine? His sister Emily scoffed, fanning the flames. James, your wife has the fashion sense of a Well, what do you expect from someone raised in some backwater town?
She gave me a withering once-over, her eyes lingering on my slender wrists. A smug smirk played on her lips.
You could at least wear some jewellery. Oh, waityou dont have any, do you?
I met her gaze, cool and steady, as if observing a lab specimen.
In my mind, I noted: *Subject No. 2Emily. Aggression: high. Motivation: envy, dominance through humiliation.*
It was like watching predators circle their prey. Predictable.
Margaret sighed dramatically and flopped onto the sofa beside me, her hand heavy on my shoulder. She reeked of hairspray and fried food.
Charlotte, darling, were only looking out for you. Its just our James is a man of standing, a manager, well-respected. And you well, you understand.
She paused, waiting for tears, apologies, a trembling voice. None came. I only watched.
Where was the James Id fallen for? The confident, witty man? Now he sat silent, a puppet in his familys hands.
Ive had a thought! Margaret brightened. You still have your mothers earrings, dont you? The ones with the little stones? You never wear them. Lets sell them.
James choked on air.
Mum, are you serious? Theyre sentimental.
Sentimental? She waved a dismissive hand. Sentimental over what? Poverty? At least theyd be useful. We could buy Charlotte a few decent outfits. And a new barbecue for the garden. Everyone wins.
Emily chimed in:
Exactly! Those earrings look ridiculous on her anyway.
They didnt realise they werent humiliating me. They were exposing themselvestheir pettiness, their greed.
I studied their smug faces. Every word, every gesture fit my hypothesis perfectly.
The experiment was going to plan.
Fine, I said softly.
The room fell silent. Even James stared at me, stunned.
What do you mean, fine? Margaret demanded.
Ill sell them, I said, allowing a faint smile. If its what the family needs.
Margaret and Emily exchanged glances. Doubt flickered briefly, then vanished beneath their triumph. They mistook strategy for surrender.
To me, they were chess pieces. And theyd just walked into my trap.
The next day, Margaret dragged me to a pawnshop. Emily tagged along, smirking. James drove in silence, his face grim. He tried to protest, but his mother snapped:
Stay out of it! Cant you see she dresses like a pauper?
The pawnshop was cramped, the air thick with the smell of old metal. The appraisera weary-eyed mantook the velvet box I handed him.
He examined the earrings under a loupe. Margaret tapped her nails impatiently on the counter.
Well? Theyre gold, arent they? The stones sparkle. Youll give us fifty quid?
The appraiser snorted.
Gold, yes. But the stones are cubic zirconia. Cheap. Twenty pounds. And thats generous.
Margarets face fell. Emily sneered:
Twenty? I thought at least enough for a pair of shoes.
I played my part perfectly. Leaned in, hesitant:
Maybe we shouldnt? Theyre sentimental And twenty is so little. Perhaps another shop?
A calculated movea false compromise I knew theyd reject.
Quiet, Charlotte! Margaret barked. The expert said twenty, so twenty it is!
Emily added:
Exactly! Or youll drag us all over town and get even less. You always ruin everything.
James tried again:
Mum, maybe a jewellers
Shut it! Emily cut him off. Under her thumb now, are you? *We* decide whats best!
They took the money. Right there on the street, they split it. Fifteen to Margaret: For the barbecue and plants. Five to Emily: For a manicure.
And what about my new clothes? I asked softly.
Emily laughed in my face:
Oh, Charlotte, dont be daft. With that pittance? Maybe a charity shop.
They left, smug, abandoning me with James. He looked shattered. He hadnt defended me. Another mark against him.
Im sorry, he muttered.
Its fine, I said gently, taking his arm. I understand. Family comes first.
But the real blow came that evening.
Returning home, I noticed my laptop was gone. An ordinary-looking machine, but in realityheavily encrypted. My link to my real life.
My pulse stuttered. But my face stayed calm.
James, wheres my laptop?
Emily strolled in, grinning.
Oh, that ancient thing? I took it. Mine broke, and Ive got work to do. What do *you* need it for? Watch telly on your phone.
I turned slowly. My expression blank. Inside, a switch flipped.
The trap was sprung. The final piece in place.
That laptop wasnt just a deviceit was my gateway to the truth. Reports, logs, every detail of my experiment. Unhackable. But that wasnt the point.
Theft. Brazen, shameless. As if I were nothing.
I looked at James. His last test.
James, get my laptop back, I said, quiet but firm.
He hesitated, glancing between Emily and me.
Em, give it back. Its hers.
Oh, please! Emily rolled her eyes. Youre actually siding with her? I *need* it! Well buy her a new one with your bonus.
Charlotte, you heard her, James said weakly. She needs it for work. Dont make a fuss.
Something inside me snapped.
This was the end. He hadnt just stayed silenthed joined them. The James I loved was gone.
Enough.
I pulled out an old flip phone. Dialled the contact labelled Handler.
Edward, its time, I said, voice icy. Observation complete. Proceed with Protocol Reckoning. Start with the sister.
I hung up. Placed the phone down. Met Emilys mocking, suddenly uneasy stare.
You have ten minutes to return my laptop. Untouched.
Emily laughed nervously.
Threatening me? With your handler? Who even *are* you?
Not a threat. A fact. In nine minutes, your urgent project will vanish from your companys servers. Five minutes later, your boss will receive proof you leaked trade secrets. Thats a criminal offence.
Her face paled.
Youre lying!
Nine minutes, I said, checking my watch.
Her phone rang. The screen flashed: *MR. THOMPSON.* Her boss.
She snatched it up, trembling.
Sir? What? No, I didntThats not true!
She shot me a terrified look. I nodded at the wardrobe. Emily scrambled to retrieve the laptop, hurling it onto the bed.
Take it! Just call them off!
Too late, I said calmly. The process is irreversible.
James finally found his voice.
Charlotte, what have you *done*? Shes my sister!
I turned to him, all pretence gone.
Still dont see it? You thought I was some poor nobody you could walk over? Hand out my things like spare change?
I walked to the window. Below, a black sedan idledsubtle, but significant.
My name isnt just Charlotte. Im Charlotte Whitmore. My grandfather isnt some retired pensionerhes the founder of Whitmore Holdings. This I gestured around the room, was a year-long experiment. His condition: I live without my wealth, to see why you married me.
A bitter smile.
I wanted to prove him wrong. That you loved *me*, not my money. But you you showed your true colours.
A knock at the door. Edward stepped in, handing each
