Half a world away, in a brightly lit, depressing discount department store in suburban Virginia, Caroline Vance was restocking cheap lipsticks on a plastic shelf.

Her back ached from standing on the hard linoleum floor for eight hours, and her hands, once perfectly manicured, were dry and cracked from opening cardboard boxes.

"Excuse me," a sharp, angry voice snapped behind her.

Caroline turned around, pasting on a miserable, forced retail smile.

A middle-aged woman with a severely angled haircut was holding up a bottle of foundation.

"This is marked clearance, but it rang up full price at the register," the woman complained loudly. "I want a manager, and I want you to fix it right now. You people are completely incompetent."

Caroline felt a hot flush of humiliation and rage rise in her chest.

A year ago, she had been planning a million-dollar wedding, ordering around caterers and wedding planners. Now, she was being verbally abused over a four-dollar bottle of makeup.

"I will go find the manager," Caroline mumbled, lowering her eyes and walking away.

She retreated to the small, windowless employee breakroom in the back of the store.

She collapsed into a plastic chair, pulling out her phone to desperately escape her reality for just a few minutes.

She opened a news application, scrolling mindlessly, until a headline froze the blood in her veins.

"US Navy Thwarts Major Hijacking in the Pacific. Rear Admiral Evelyn Hart Praised for Swift Tactical Command."

Caroline stared at the photograph attached to the article.

It was Evelyn, looking immaculate in her service uniform, standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier. The article detailed how her strike group had rescued an American crew without a single civilian casualty.

Evelyn was being hailed as a national hero.

Caroline’s hands began to shake violently.

It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair.

Evelyn had stolen everything. She had ruined their father, she had stolen Nathan, and now she was being paraded on national television while Caroline was cleaning up spilled perfume in a discount store.

The door to the breakroom opened, and a man in a cheap suit stepped inside.

He didn't look like an employee. He looked slimy, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Caroline.

"Caroline Vance?" the man asked, holding up a press badge from a notorious, sleazy tabloid website known for ruining reputations.

"Who are you?" Caroline asked defensively, clutching her phone.

"I am a journalist," the man smiled, sitting down across from her. "And I have been doing some digging into the golden girl of the Pentagon, Admiral Hart."

He slid a thick envelope across the table.

"I heard a rumor that she used her military influence to destroy her own father's business and steal her sister's fiancé," the reporter said, tapping the envelope. "There is ten thousand dollars in cash in here for an exclusive interview. Tell me everything."

Caroline looked at the envelope.

Ten thousand dollars could get her out of the miserable apartment she shared with her mother. It could buy her a ticket back to the life she deserved.

More importantly, it could finally destroy Evelyn.

Caroline smiled, an ugly, bitter expression.

"Where do you want me to start?" Caroline asked.