Aunt Deletes My Files to Ruin My Job, but It Costs Her Daughter's Instead

Chapter 2

No one in the family could outdo Rachel when it came to pretending.

She barely scraped through community college but told everyone she had a bachelor's degree. She worked at a tiny ad agency, but according to her, she was a high-end designer at a top 100 firm, pulling in $400,000 a year.

One lie led to another. To keep up the act, she went as far as borrowing $150,000 and handing it to her mom, claiming it was her year-end bonus.

Aunt Karen, her mom, had been bragging about it nonstop in the family group chat for weeks, always putting me down to boost Rachel.

But I got why Rachel did it. With a mom like Aunt Karen, obsessed with status, sexist, and overbearing, Rachel didn’t have much of a choice but to fake it just to survive.

She used to be honest, but that life was pure misery.

The memory that sticks out the most happened when Rachel was in 5th grade. She scored a 69% on her final exam.

I had a 99%.

When Aunt Karen saw Rachel’s paper, she slapped her twice without a word. Rachel was stunned, humiliated, but too scared to even cry.

But it didn’t stop there. Aunt Karen grabbed Rachel by the ear, kicked her, and made her kneel in the snow holding up that test paper. No dinner.

Every time they saw anyone, Aunt Karen would humiliate Rachel, calling her useless for not being perfect.

Rachel, who used to be so cheerful and outgoing, became quiet and withdrawn after that. The abuse chipped away at her, and she learned to fake perfect grades, only bringing home straight A’s.

Aunt Karen, who wasn’t the sharpest, ate it all up. Every time she saw those perfect papers, she’d shower Rachel with praise and gifts.

Rachel, addicted to the attention, started to believe her own hype, convincing herself she was some kind of genius.

When she came to me, begging me not to expose the truth, she threatened to kill herself if I did. She said if she could just land this deal with my company, she could pay back the $150,000 and start turning her fake life into reality.

Her boss had promised her that after the layoffs, they’d focus on whoever stayed. If it was her, she could make $20,000 a month and turn her fake persona into something real.

But the catch was she had to keep her job.

I wanted to help, but I never expected the chaos that was about to unfold.

With just 5 minutes left, I stormed over, snatched the scissors from my grandma’s hand, and grabbed the network cable from Peter.

With a hard stare, I said, “5 minutes. I’ll be done in 5.”

Peter started crying harder, pointing at me and yelling, “You $3,000 loser! How dare you take my stuff? I’ll beat you to death!”

Aunt Karen let him go, letting him rush at me, fists flying.

My dad tried to stop him, but Aunt Karen yelled, “What are you doing? He’s just a kid! His punches don’t hurt. He’s just messing with Brynn!”

Grandma slapped my arm, cooing at Peter, “Bad Brynn! Grandma hit you! Don’t cry, Peter, don’t cry.”

Then she smacked me twice more.

It didn’t hurt much, but my parents’ faces darkened.

Grandma, pulling the seniority card, scolded them, “What are you looking at? You wanna hit me or something? Brynn’s just a girl. A few slaps won’t hurt her. But if my grandson’s crying, how are you going to make it up to him?”

Aunt Karen smirked at my parents, clearly enjoying the moment.

My parents, who hated making a scene, just let it slide since it was a holiday.

I didn’t argue. I plugged the network cable back in and rushed to send the email.

The business partners were blowing up the group chat, tagging me, saying they wouldn’t look at any proposals after 8 PM, no matter how good they were.

I understood. They didn’t want to work on Christmas.

With only 3 minutes left, I hit send.

The internet was slow, but I thought I’d made it just in time.

I really needed to use the bathroom, so I dashed off.

When I came back, it was 8 PM on the dot.

I thought I had pulled it off, but when I checked my partners’ feedback, my stomach dropped.

Rachel’s proposal hadn’t gone through. It had been recalled.

They hadn’t received anything. And now they were refusing to look at it.

I scrambled to resend it, only to find the files were gone.

I looked up and saw Peter, making faces at me.

“Did you delete my files?” I demanded.

He stuck out his tongue, smirking. “That’s what you get for being mean to me! Take that!”

Just another holiday nightmare.