Replaced by the Original

Victoria's heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached my desk, her expression a mixture of annoyance and something that might have been pity.

"He's called the office fifty times today," she said, dropping her tablet in front of me. "And security reports he's been sitting outside the building since six this morning."

I didn't need to ask who "he" was. The screen showed Nathan's name, followed by a string of missed calls—each one a testament to his desperation.

"Block his number," I said, my voice steady despite the faint headache building behind my eyes.

"Already done." Victoria's perfectly manicured nails tapped against her arm. "But he's found a new tactic. He's been telling the receptionists that he's family."

I looked up sharply. "Family?"

"He claims he's your nephew." Her lip curled slightly. "The security team is getting suspicious."

I stood, walking to the window that overlooked the city. Somewhere below, Nathan was probably still sitting on the sidewalk, his designer clothes—purchased with my money—growing increasingly shabby.

"Genevieve?" Victoria's voice was gentler now. "What do you want to do?"

I considered the question, weighing my options like I would any business decision. The rational choice would be to have him arrested for trespassing. The kind choice would be to ignore him completely.

Instead, I found myself reaching for my phone.

"Transfer one thousand dollars to his account," I said, my fingers moving across the screen with practiced precision. "And reactivate his platinum card—the one with the five thousand dollar limit."

Victoria's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"No," I admitted, setting down the phone. "But I want him to learn his lesson slowly."

---

The text came three days later: *Thank you. I won't disappoint you again.*

I showed it to Victoria, who snorted derisively.

"He has no idea," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.

"He thinks I've forgiven him," I replied, setting my phone aside. "Let's see what he does with his second chance."

We didn't have to wait long.

The following week, Victoria burst into my office without knocking—a breach of protocol that would normally earn her a reprimand.

"You need to see this," she said, thrusting her tablet toward me.

The screen showed Nathan at a travel agency, his face animated as he spoke to the agent. The caption read: "Planning the perfect engagement retreat!"

"He's taking her to the mountains," Victoria explained, her voice carrying a note of disbelief. "Some cabin in Aspen."

I zoomed in on the image, studying Nathan's expression. He looked hopeful—desperately so.

"How much is he spending?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Victoria's smile was sharp as a blade. "Just under five thousand. He's maxing out the card you gave him."

I leaned back in my chair, considering this new development. "And Scarlett?"

"She's agreed to go," Victoria said, her tone making it clear what she thought of that decision. "Though I doubt she'll be impressed."

---

The cabin looked nothing like the five-star resorts Nathan had grown accustomed to. Small, rustic, with peeling paint and mismatched furniture—it was the kind of place college students rented for cheap weekend getaways.

"This is it?" Scarlett's voice carried through the open door as Nathan struggled with the key. "You're kidding, right?"

"Baby, it's going to be perfect," Nathan insisted, his voice strained with forced enthusiasm. "Romantic. Intimate."

Scarlett stepped inside, her designer boots—bought with my money—squeaking against the worn wooden floors. "Where's the champagne?"

Nathan pulled a bottle from his backpack, the label obscured by a brown paper bag. "Right here."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed as she examined it. "This isn't Dom P�rignon."

"It's... similar," Nathan said quickly. "And I got these too." He produced a bouquet of flowers—daisies and carnations wrapped in plastic from a gas station.

Scarlett's face fell. "You expect me to be impressed with this?"

"Scarlett, please," Nathan's voice took on the pleading tone I'd heard so many times before. "I'm trying to show you that I can take care of you. Without... without her help."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken accusations.

"This is pathetic," Scarlett finally said, tossing the flowers onto the counter. "Do you even know how to be a man?"

Nathan's face flushed crimson. "I'm doing my best here."

"Your best sucks," she replied, pulling out her phone. "I'm calling an Uber. We're leaving."

As she stormed toward the door, Nathan stood frozen, the champagne bottle still clutched in his hand—a perfect metaphor for everything he'd lost.