Niamh Roy was certifiably insane. At least, that's what her family thinks. She was demented for jumping into the burning building too late.
It had always been like that, even when she and her siblings were younger. While they all were masters at backstabbing and self-gain, she'd been quiet, melting into the background. Everyone around her wondered why she never did anything. Questions were asked not so silently by judging adults. Was she, you know, cuckoo? Or maybe weak willed? Theories abounded, and glances were strewn carelessly around her.Compared to her twin brother Kendall, she was a disappointment.
It wasn't like she was a sycophant, or stupid. She was just biding her time. Having a daddy with a lot of money could buy you a spot at Parsons, but top honors took time. And she could be plenty stubborn when she wanted to. After all, it ran in her blood.
No, it wasn't that she couldn't be any of these things. It was a simple, vexing problem; She just didn't care. She didn't care enough to be what her siblings were. She wouldn't ever be anything but a thumbtack on the family's paws. She was perfectly fine with the way things were, she told everyone. Secretly though, she hated herself. Hated that she'd never made a big enough mark in her father's conscience that he would ever consider her as an heir.
When she wrangles a deal with Waystar, her magazine is bought out. However, she isn't. Control of the company goes to her right-hand man, her best friend, a yes-man who doesn't know about fashion, but he sure knows how to sell a deal. The man she loves sells out on her, like dishes flung from a cloth.
She's stuck at a crossroad, when her family offers her a job that she's always been destined for, one that she didn't want. But she takes it. After all, what could she lose? But takers eventually give, and she's thrown into the boxing ring. And maybe for the first time in her calm, sedative life, she thinks to herself;
