“You’re just a grey mouse with no money,” her friend said. But it was at my birthday party that she stood by the door with a tray.
“You simply dont know how to sell yourself,” drawled Christina, lazily stirring her cocktail with a straw, a bracelet studded with gems glinting on her wrist. She spoke with that effortless, almost careless superiority that had long been her trademark.
“Its not about selling myself,” murmured Olivia Everly, studying the crack in her cheap teacup. “I just dont have the right experience for this job.”
“Experience, experience how dull,” sighed Christina theatrically. “What matters is sparkle in your eyes and expensive shoes. And youve got neither.”
Christina Belgrave swept her with an evaluating glance, one that made Olivia want to curl into a ball. It was as if shed been scanned and handed a verdict: “defective, dispose of.”
“Listen, Im only trying to help,” Christina leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Youre my best friend, after all. Who else would tell you the truth?”
Olivia stayed silent. “Best friend”the words stuck in her throat, prickly and foreign.
“You need to understand, in our world, people judge you by your outfit and dismiss you by your connections. Youre a grey mouse with no money. Until you accept that, youll keep stumbling through penny-ante interviews.”
Every word hit its mark, knocking the air from Olivias lungs.
“Im launching a little project,” Christina continued, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Ill need someone for basic taskssorting papers, meeting couriers.”
She paused, letting Olivia “digest” the offer.
“I could take you on. Temporarily, of course. Until you find something more suitable.” The last word came with a barely detectable smirk.
Olivia looked up. Her gaze was cool steel, as if something inside had hardened into ice. She took in Christinathe flawless blowout, the disdainful curl of her lips, the bracelet worth her annual salary. What she saw now wasnt a friend, but a predator relishing her humiliation.
“Thanks for the offer,” Olivia said slowly. “But Ill pass.”
Christinas eyebrows shot up. She hadnt expected that.
“Youre refusing? You? Turning down my opportunity?” Her voice turned metallic. “Suit yourself. Just dont come crying when you cant pay rent.”
She dramatically pulled a few crisp £50 notes from her bag and tossed them on the table, covering the bill with plenty to spare.
“My treat,” she tossed over her shoulder and left without a goodbye, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
Olivia stayed seated. She didnt touch the money or her cold tea. Instead, she watched the luxury cars speeding past outside. And for the first time in her life, she didnt feel despairshe felt fire.
The next morning, that fire had turned into cold, pulsing energy. Shed always been invisible. But she had a knack for seeing and hearing what others misseddetails, patterns, hidden motives. That was her real currency.
Firing up her battered laptop, she drew up a plan. She pitched her services on a freelance site: “research and analysis of unstructured data.” It sounded vague, but Olivia knew exactly what it meant.
The first few months were hellsmall gigs, fussy clients, fees that barely covered rent and beans on toast. More than once, she nearly caved, almost dialling Christinas number. But the memory of her smirk killed the urge faster than any wall.
The breakthrough came six months later. A small law firm hired her to dig up dirt on a rival before a court case. Olivia worked with desperate determination. A week without sleep, and she delivered a report that won them the case. They paid triple her rate and became regulars. Word spread.
Soon, a trickle of work became a stream. Two years later, she rented a tiny office and hired an assistant.
Christina still called occasionally. Her life sounded like one endless party.
“Livvy, darling! Im on a yacht in Monaco with investors. How about you? Still holed up in your little hovel?”
“Hello. No, not bored. Working,” Olivia replied, scanning a new clients financials.
“Working?” Christina dragged the word out. “Dont be shymy errand girl spots still open. You could fetch coffee for my new intern.”
Once, Olivia wouldve flinched. Now, she just shrugged.
“Thanks, but Im good. Ive got my own agency now.”
“An agency?” Peals of laughter crackled down the line. “A floor-mopping agency?”
But Christinas words had lost their sting.
Four more years passed. “Everly & Associates” now had a central London office and five analysts. Olivia was a name in corporate intelligence. And thats when Christina struck.
Her firm, “Belgrave Group,” stole one of Olivias key reports. Shed bribed a junior employee drowning in debt.
Olivia gathered evidenceChristinas financial holes, her reckless spending, her fraud. Then she sent an immaculate report to the investor.
The next day, Christina called, screaming: “Youve ruined everything!”
“I just did my job,” Olivia replied calmly.
Another two years later. A rooftop restaurant, champagne, friendsOlivias birthday bash.
And there, among the waitstaff, she spotted Christina. In uniform, tray in hand. Their eyes methers full of shock and hate, Olivias cool and steady.
Olivia gave her the faintest nod, acknowledging her presence like an afterthought, then turned back to her guests.
That indifference was worse than any slap. It meant one thing: to Olivia, Christina no longer existed. She was just background noise, unworthy of attention.
Christina paled, bit her lip, and fled towards the service exit, clinging to the last shreds of dignity.
As Olivia watched her go, she realised: the world had a funny way of balancing itself. Sometimes, the person who calls you a “grey mouse” doesnt notice the trap theyre walking into.
This wasnt revenge. It was karma.
Epilogue
Six months later, Olivias firm went international. One evening, she opened an email from an old uni friend:
“Guess who I ran into? Christina Belgrave. Shes working as a receptionist at some budget gym. Word is, she got fired from the restaurant that same night. Tried borrowing money off me, whining about betrayal and how unfair life is”
Olivia closed her laptop. No triumph, no pity. Christinas story wasnt hers anymore.
The next day, passing a shop window, Olivia caught her reflectiona confident woman who knew her worth.
She remembered Christinas words about “sparkle in your eyes and expensive shoes.” Her shoes were pricey now, but the real sparkle hadnt come from them.
It came from knowing her own strength. From understanding that true value isnt in what you wear, but what you build with your own hands and mind.
Back at her office, a new, complex project waited. Sitting at her desk, Olivia smiled faintly.
The grey mouse never became a predator. She became what shed always been deep downa sharp, patient hunter who knew the worth of information and the power of timing.
And her time had come.
