Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 37: Her Positive Life.

Chapter 37: Her Positive Life.

"This isn’t over," she hissed.

The doors swung shut behind her.

The silence in the lobby was thick.

The receptionist exhaled slowly. "Well," she muttered, tapping her nails against the desk, "that was... something."

The cashier snorted, barely holding back a laugh. "I liked that part where you threw the water."

I smirked, adjusting my bag over my shoulder. "Yeah, me too."

"So the payment, card or cash?"

"Card," I said, fishing it from my bag. My fingers were steady, but my stomach twisted as I swiped it through the machine.

The moment the amount flashed on the screen, I felt the air leave my lungs. My heart lurched—too many digits, too much money.

But I forced a smile. You can handle it now, I reminded myself. You have a job lined up. You’re not completely lost.

"You’re all set!" the cashier chirped, handing back my card with a bright smile. "Welcome to your new home!"

A home.

The word felt foreign on my tongue, distant, like something I wasn’t sure I was allowed to claim anymore.

The receptionist barely glanced up from her screen. "We’ll just need a quick picture for our records."

I nodded and stepped in front of the desk camera, smoothing my hair with trembling fingers as the laptop’s built-in camcorder captured my image.

"Perfect," the cashier said, clicking a few buttons. "Here’s your keycard. It gives you access to the elevators and your apartment. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call."

"Thank you," I murmured, clutching the stack of papers to my chest like they were the only things keeping me upright.

The receptionist gave me a polite smile, and the cashier waved me off with a cheerful, "Good luck, pretty lady!"

I turned, surprised to see Joe—the security guard who had been standing by the entrance—still waiting with my bags. He adjusted them easily in his hands, his expression kind.

"Ready to head up?"

I hesitated, glancing around the opulent lobby one last time. The crystal chandeliers, the marble floors, the soft hum of money in the air. It was the kind of place I’d always seen in magazines but never thought I’d live in.

Not after everything. Not after being tossed out like trash.

This isn’t the life I planned.

But maybe—just maybe—it’s the start of something new.

"Don’t worry about a thing, Miss. I’ve got it. Name’s Joe, by the way."

"Thank you, Joe," I said, offering a small smile.

As we approached the elevator, my steps faltered.

Joe noticed. "You okay?"

"Uh... yeah. I just—" I exhaled sharply, gripping the papers tighter. "I’m not a big fan of elevators."

He didn’t laugh or roll his eyes. Just nodded like it made perfect sense. "Got it. Stairs it is. Seventh floor, huh? We’ll make it work."

We started up the stairs, my heels clicking against the polished floors. Each step echoed, loud and deliberate, like a countdown to the next Chapter of my life.

I clutched the railing, my thoughts swirling.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I thought I’d be renting a tiny studio, scraping by, figuring out my next move while trying to survive. Instead, I was here—a girl cast out, carrying designer luggage up seven flights of stairs, with a guard hauling my bags like I was someone important.

This wasn’t the plan.

I had imagined something else. Living with my family. Having dinner with them on weekends. Attending formal events for Dad, working in his company, falling in love when the time was right.

Instead, here I am. Alone.

Joe’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You don’t seem like someone who’d be staying here alone. Got any friends or family nearby?"

I hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really."

"Ah, well," he said lightly, "you’ve got me if you need anything. Security’s tight here, and we like to keep an eye on everyone. You’ll be in good hands."

I nodded, my chest tightening with a strange mix of gratitude and melancholy.

By the time we reached the seventh floor, my legs burned. Joe set my bags down just outside the door and handed me my keycard.

"Here you go, Miss. Welcome to your new home."

I took the card from him, the weight of it heavier than it should have been. "Thank you," I said again, my voice steady, but something inside me was unraveling.

Joe nodded and turned to leave, but before disappearing down the stairs, he glanced back.

"You’re going to be just fine, Miss. Trust me."

I watched him go, then turned to the door.

The moment it clicked shut behind me, I sagged against it, exhaling slowly.

The apartment was stunning—sleek modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the glittering city skyline, a kitchen that looked like it had never been touched.

It was too much. Too nice. Too expensive.

And yet, I could afford it.

The market dropped just in time, I reminded myself. If prices hadn’t taken a sudden dive, I would have been crying right now over how much I had just spent.

But I wasn’t. I was standing here, breathing, still intact.

I set the papers on the counter and finally let myself take it all in.

Despite everything, I had made it. I had a place to call my own. A chance to rebuild.

I sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. "Guess this is home now."

I headed upstairs, carrying only one of my bags. The others could wait until morning.

Room by room, I flicked on lights, checking corners. The space was bigger than I expected, every detail dripping with understated luxury.

Finally, I reached the master bedroom.

Queen-sized bed, crisp white linens, an inviting throw neatly folded at the foot. Large windows overlooking the city, the lights twinkling like scattered diamonds.

I walked to the window, resting my hands against the cool glass.

Think positively, Hermia.

I took a slow breath, letting the weight of the past few days settle.

"I’m alive," I whispered, my breath fogging up the glass.

"I’m standing here in a $30,000 dress, I probably have a new best friend, I’ve got a job, and this apartment is mine. My life is mine now."

The words tasted foreign.

But they felt real.