“You’re just a grey mouse with no money,” said her friend. Yet, on the evening of my birthday, it was she who stood at the door with a tray in hand.
“You simply dont know how to present yourself,” drawled Christina, lazily stirring her cocktail with a straw, the bracelet on her wrist glinting with tiny gemstones.
She spoke with that effortless, almost careless superiority that had long become her trademark.
“Its not about presentation,” murmured Olivia Eremond quietly, tracing a crack in her cheap teacup. “I just dont have the right experience for that job.”
“Experience, experience how tedious,” sighed Christina theatrically. “What matters is the sparkle in your eyes and expensive shoes. And you have neither.”
Christina Belswick swept her with a scrutinising gaze that made Olivia want to curl into a ball. It was as if shed been scanned and given a verdict: “defective, discard.”
“Listen, Im only trying to help,” Christina leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Youre my best friend. Who else would tell you the truth?”
Olivia said nothing. “Best friend”the words stuck in her throat, sharp and foreign.
“You must understand, in our world, youre judged by your clothes and dismissed by your connections. Youre a grey mouse with no money. Until you accept that, youll keep scraping by on pennies.”
Every word hit its mark, knocking the air from her lungs.
“Im launching a project,” Christina continued, relishing her reaction. “Ill need people for the simplest tasks. Sorting papers, meeting couriers.”
She paused, letting Olivia “digest” the offer.
“I could take you on. Temporarily, of course. Until you find something more *suitable*,” she added with the faintest smirk.
Olivia lifted her eyes. There was steel in her gaze, something cold and unyielding. She looked at Christinathe perfect coiffure, the disdainful curve of her lips, the bracelet worth a year of her wages. She saw not a friend, but a predator savouring her humiliation.
“Thank you for the offer,” Olivia said slowly. “But I must decline.”
Christinas eyebrows shot up. Clearly, 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.”
With deliberate flourish, she pulled several large banknotes from her purse and tossed them onto the tablemore than enough to cover the bill.
“My treat,” she threw over her shoulder and, without another word, strode away, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
Olivia remained seated. She didnt touch the money, nor her cold tea. She stared out the window at the sleek cars speeding past. And for the first time in her life, she didnt feel despairshe felt fire.
The next morning, that fire hardened into a cold, pulsing determination. She had always been invisible. But she saw what others overlookeddetails, patterns, hidden motives. That was her only real wealth.
Sitting at her worn-out laptop, she crafted a plan. She listed her services on a freelance platform: “research and analysis of unstructured information.” It sounded vague, but Olivia knew exactly what lay beneath.
The first months were hellsmall jobs, finicky clients, payments barely covering rent and food. More than once, she nearly gave up, almost dialling Christinas number. But the memory of that smirk stopped her better than any wall.
The breakthrough came six months later. A small law firm hired her to gather intelligence on their competitors before a court case. Olivia threw herself into the work with desperate focus. A week without sleep, and she delivered a report that won them the case. They paid her triple and became regular clients, recommending her to others.
A trickle of work became a stream. Within two years, she rented an office and hired an assistant.
Christina called occasionally. Her life sounded like an endless party.
“Liv, darling! Im on a yacht in Monaco with some partners! And you? Still stuck in that little hovel?”
“Hello. No, not stuck. Working,” Olivia replied, scanning the financials of a new client.
“*Working*?” Christina stretched the word. “Dont be shymy errand girl spot is still open. You could fetch coffee for my new assistant.”
Once, Olivia would have flinched. Now, she only shrugged.
“No, thank you. I have my own agency.”
“An *agency*?” Peals of laughter crackled down the line. “A floor-mopping agency?”
But Christinas words no longer held power.
Four more years passed. “Eremond & Partners” occupied a central London office, with five analysts on staff. Olivia had made a name in corporate intelligence. And that was when Christina struck.
Her firm, “Belswick Group,” stole one of Olivias key reports. Shed bribed a junior employee with debts, exploiting his weakness.
Olivia gathered prooffinancial discrepancies, embezzlement, fraud. She sent an impeccable report to Christinas investor.
The next day, Christina called, screaming: “Youve ruined everything!”
“I just did my job,” Olivia replied calmly.
Two years later, atop a skyscraper, Olivias birthday was celebrated in stylechampagne, laughter, friends.
And there, among the waitstaff, she spotted Christina. In uniform, tray in hand. Their eyes metChristinas filled with horror and hatred, Olivias with icy calm.
Olivia gave her the faintest nod, an acknowledgment no one else noticed, then turned back to her guests.
That gesture was worse than any slap. It meant one thing: to Olivia, Christina no longer existed. She had become a function, a shadow with no place in important affairs.
Christina paled, bit her lip, and fled towards the service exit, clinging to the last shreds of dignity.
Olivia watched her go. The world, she realised, was perfectly balanced. Sometimes, those who call you a “grey mouse” dont notice the trap closing around themselves. It wasnt revenge. It was nature.
Epilogue
Six months later, Olivias business expanded internationally. One evening, skimming her emails, she found one from an old university acquaintance:
*”…Guess who I ran into? Christina Belswick. Shes working as a receptionist at a gym on the outskirts. Rumor has it, after that scandal, she was fired from the restaurant… She even tried borrowing money from me, whining about betrayal and an unfair world…”*
Olivia closed the laptop without reaction. She felt no triumph, no pity. Christinas story was no longer hers.
The next day, passing a shop window, Olivia caught her reflectiona woman who knew her worth and moved forward without hesitation.
She remembered Christinas words about “sparkle and expensive shoes.” Her shoes *were* expensive now. But the true sparkle in her eyes hadnt come from them.
It came from knowing her own strengthfrom understanding that true worth lies not in what you wear, but in what you build with your own hands and mind.
She stepped into her office, where a new, complex project awaited. Sitting at her desk, Olivia allowed herself a small smile.
The grey mouse had never become a predator. Instead, she had become what shed always been, deep downa patient hunter, unseen but unerring.
And her time had come.
