Part 2She Stole My Bankrupt Fiances

The next morning, Sophia left for the Barrett estate before sunrise. She had carefully chosen a simple white sundress, left her hair loose, and applied barely-there makeup. She looked like a tragic angel on her way to save a fallen soul.

When I walked downstairs, Lydia was in the kitchen packing a thermos of homemade broth. "Sophia, don't let them walk all over you," she fretted.

Sophia smiled with practiced maturity. "Mom, Daniel is just going through a rough patch. You have to look at the bigger picture."

The comments above her head chimed in right on cue.

[Sophia has such a great vision!]

[A woman who stays by his side during his darkest hours is a woman a man will remember forever.]

I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge. "I don't know about remembering her forever," I remarked, twisting the cap off. "But he’ll certainly keep an immaculate record of her bills."

Sophia’s smile stiffened. Lydia whipped around, glaring at me. "Quanna! Your sister literally sacrificed herself to save you from these marriages. If you can’t be grateful, the least you can do is keep your mouth shut."

I took a slow drink. "I’m just giving her a friendly warning. The Barrett family owes a lot more than just money right now."

Sophia tilted her chin up, her expression hardening. "Quanna, I know you’re bitter. But this is the path I chose. No matter what happens to Daniel, I will never blame you."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Did you record that?"

Her face went pale.

I pulled up my phone and tapped the screen. "It’s fine. I did."

Her eyes instantly welled with fresh tears. "Quanna... why do you always have to assume the worst of me?"

I didn't bother to answer. There was no point. Whether she was good or bad would show soon enough in her actions.

Within three days, Sophia’s Instagram feed was entirely dedicated to Daniel Barrett.

The first post was a photo of them at a cheap, run-down diner. Caption: Even the bitter moments are sweet when I'm with you.

The second showed a receipt from a high-end luxury consignment store where she had sold her limited-edition designer bags. Caption: Bags can be replaced. You can't.

The third was a candid shot of Daniel’s profile, his head bowed over a stack of legal documents. Caption: I believe in you. I know you will rise again.

Our university group chats were flooded with praise.

“Sophia is literally an angel.”

“The biological sister couldn't run away fast enough, but Sophia stepped up to suffer in her place.”

“She deserves the world.”

I scrolled past the comments while sitting in a quiet, private office at the bank.

The banker slid a thick folder across the mahogany desk. "Ms. Harrington, here are the audited statements from your late mother’s old accounts. However, there are a few transactions from a decade ago that still require secondary verification."

I took the sheets. Near the bottom of the ledger, a specific transfer caught my eye. It was made to the Barrett family's holding company. The amount wasn't massive, but the memo line was fascinating: Margaret’s Green-Tech Materials Phase 1 Licensing Fee.

Margaret. My mother's name.

I tucked the documents safely into my leather tote. My phone buzzed again with a text from Sophia: [Quanna, are you free tonight? Daniel wants to take the family out for dinner.] It was followed by a photo.

It was Daniel sitting in a cramped, dusty office. His white button-down shirt looked worn and slightly frayed at the cuffs, but his wrist displayed a gleaming Rolex.

In my previous life, that watch had fooled me. I had assumed it was the last relic of his pride, a desperate attempt to maintain his dignity. It took me years to realize it wasn’t dignity at all. It was vanity—the kind of vanity that made him prioritize looking wealthy over paying his low-wage employees.

Dinner was held at an exclusive, low-key bistro downtown. When Sophia walked in, clinging tightly to Daniel's arm, my father and Lydia immediately stood up to greet them. Daniel was tall and lean, his handsome features sharp and cold, carrying that defensive, brittle arrogance of a wealthy man who had recently lost his fortune. His eyes locked onto me, and he paused. "Quanna."

I looked up from my menu. "Daniel."

He stared at me, his jaw tightening. "You just handed our arrangement over like it was nothing?"

"I didn't hand it over," I said, casually picking up my fork. "I cut my losses."

Sophia immediately tightened her grip on his sleeve. "Daniel, please don't mind her. Quanna is just being defensive."

Daniel looked down at her, his voice dropping. "Do you think of me as a loss, too, Sophia?"

Sophia shook her head frantically. "No! Never. I would never think that."

A tight, humorless smile crossed Daniel's face. "Good." He pulled a document folder from his briefcase and slid it in front of Sophia. "We’re restarting the Barrett green-energy project. But the lenders are requiring a co-signer for the bridge loan."

Lydia’s breath hitched. "A co-signer?"

"It's just a formality," Daniel said smoothly. "As soon as the main venture capital round closes, your name will be removed from the liability."

Sophia stared at the contract, her pen hovering, sudden hesitation flitting across her face.

The floating comments surged across her vision:

[Sign it! This is his first step back to the top!]

[Stand by him now, and he'll reward you tenfold later!]

[In the original timeline, Quanna got her massive share of Barrett equity by signing this!]

Sophia gritted her teeth, her hesitation vanishing. "I'll sign."

I set my fork down with a quiet clink. "Did you actually read that?"

She shot a defensive look at me. "Are you trying to stand in my way again, Quanna?"

I smiled, leaning back. "Not at all. I’m just reminding you that the term 'co-signer' has legal weight. It's not a performance."

Daniel’s eyes narrowed into a cold glare. "What is your problem, Quanna?"

I raised my water glass in a mock toast. "No problem at all. I wish you two a long, beautiful life together. In sickness, in health, and in joint liability."

Sophia’s face flushed a deep crimson.

But that night, she signed anyway.

Daniel drove her back to our estate. Before he got into his car, he stopped and looked at me under the driveway lights. "You're going to regret this, Quanna."

I gave him a polite smile. "Pay your staff their back wages first, Daniel. Then you can worry about my regrets."

His face contorted with anger, and he slammed his car door shut.

Three days later, before Sophia could even archive her romantic diner photos, Daniel's creditors marched onto campus. They unfurled a massive red banner right outside the university gates.

In bold block letters, it read: SOPHIA HARRINGTON CO-SIGNED FOR HER FIANCÉ. WHEN WILL THE BARRETT DEBTS BE PAID?

Sophia stood frozen in the middle of a gathering crowd, her iced latte slipping from her hand and splashing all over her white sneakers.

Right then, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number:

[Ms. Harrington, my name is Oliver Wright. I'm ready to take on your late mother's estate case.]