Charlotte's vision blurred as she scrolled through the comments. Each one hit like a slap to the face.
No way that's her. She used to be… well, not THAT.
Omg, imagine going from Chanel to bussing tables.
Damn, karma hits HARD.
I can't believe I used to be jealous of her.
Her fingers tightened around her phone.
It was like standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom while people whispered behind their champagne flutes, desperate to belong, only to be reminded—you're the joke, Charlotte.
A sharp, bitter taste filled her mouth.
Her hand shook as she locked her phone and stuffed it into her apron pocket.
"Charlotte?"
She flinched. Maria stood by the kitchen entrance, balancing a tray of dirty dishes. "You okay?"
No.
Not even close.
But she forced a tight smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
Maria nodded in sympathy. "I feel you. Bella's is brutal. But hey, shift's almost over."
Shift's almost over.
Charlotte exhaled. Right. Focus.
Victoria could post all she wanted. People could laugh, could whisper, could sneer at her downfall—but Charlotte wasn't some fragile socialite begging for approval anymore.
She was here for a reason. Money and the 10,000 steps.
So she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and got back to work.
Great. Just great.
As if today wasn't hard enough already.
A Familiar Face in an Unfamiliar Place
Alexander Hastings never wasted time on social media. His world revolved around numbers, contracts, and high-stakes deals—not viral drama or petty gossip. If something wasn't directly affecting his business, it wasn't worth his attention.
But Damien Carter? Damien lived for this kind of thing.
As the youngest son of the Langley family, Damien had zero corporate responsibilities. No board meetings, no market projections—just an endless stream of exclusive parties, luxury vacations, and, most importantly, keeping up with every juicy scandal in their social circle.
So when he dragged Alexander to a tiny, overcrowded restaurant, grinning like he had just won the lottery, Alexander had a bad feeling.
And the second he stepped inside—he saw her.
Charlotte Evans.
For a moment, the world tilted.
She was standing by the counter, balancing a tray, her uniform slightly wrinkled from a long shift. There was no designer dress, no champagne flute in hand. Just her—in a place she never would have set foot in before.
Alexander's jaw tightened. Slowly, he turned to Damien, his expression unreadable.
Damien, entirely unfazed, just shrugged and grinned. "What? This is the hottest story in our circle right now. You really need to keep up, Alex. Life isn't just financial reports and quarterly earnings, you know. This—" he gestured vaguely at the restaurant, at Charlotte, at the paparazzi hovering outside, "—is prime entertainment."
Alexander didn't reply. Instead, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and took a slow sip of his coffee. It was terrible.
Meanwhile, Charlotte?
Charlotte wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
She had survived Victoria's online smear campaign, the public ridicule, and the relentless whispers about her fall from grace. But this? Seeing Alexander Hastings—the Alexander Hastings—walk into Bella's and witness her at rock bottom?
That was the worst humiliation yet.
The tension in the room shifted. People whispered behind their hands, stealing glances. A few bold ones even pulled out their phones, eager to capture whatever disaster was about to unfold.
But Alexander didn't gloat. He didn't mock. He barely reacted at all.
He simply finished his meal, tossed some bills onto the table, and as he stood to leave, he finally looked at her.
His gaze was sharp, assessing—infuriatingly unreadable.
And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, he said:
"I thought your dream was to be the queen of the kitchen. Not a waitress."
Charlotte's breath hitched.
And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving her standing there, gripping the tray so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Because the worst part wasn't the humiliation. It wasn't even the quiet, condescending amusement in his tone.
It was the fact that, deep down, he was right.
........
A foodie's weight loss journey?
By the time her shift ended, Charlotte could barely stand.
She checked her phone:
Steps completed: 8,426.
So close. But she wasn't done yet.
Dragging herself out of the restaurant, she forced her aching legs to keep moving.
She walked around the block. Up and down the streets. Even considered taking the long way home—anything to hit the 10,000-step goal.
Her body screamed at her. Every step felt like an eternity.
But finally—finally—the notification popped up.
Challenge complete!
She had done it.
She had survived the worst day of her life, and she had won.
"Congratulations on completing the 10,000-step challenge!
Reward 1: Your perseverance and determination are paying off. You've earned increased stamina, which will make you more enduring in all sorts of activities—whether it's working out, cooking, any kind of job, or even... you know, on the bed. You'll find yourself lasting longer in everything you do.
Reward 2: No doubt about it, you're also getting a boost in appearance. Trust me, keep up the exercise and you'll get back to looking like the queen you are.
But there's a warning you need to pay close attention to and take seriously: You need to find a better balance, or your body will break down."
Charlotte groaned. No kidding.
"On the bed?"
A dry laugh escaped her lips. Oh, that was rich. As if her current life involved anything remotely close to a bed that wasn't for passing out from exhaustion.
She flopped onto her couch, throwing an arm over her eyes. What a joke. The system really had a sense of humor, didn't it?
"Stamina," she muttered, rolling onto her side. "Great. Now I can endure longer shifts at Bella's without collapsing. Fantastic reward."
Her lips curled in a bitter smirk. And appearance boost? Ha. Maybe if she kept this up for a year, she'd start looking like someone who didn't just crawl out of a deep-fried nightmare. But now?
Yeah, right.
She glanced down at herself—the soft stomach, the thick thighs, the arms that had lost their former elegance. Who the hell would even want her like this?
Her fingers clenched into the couch fabric.
Once upon a time, she had been beautiful. Desired. Men had fought for her attention, sent her flowers, whispered sweet nothings just for a smile.
And now?
She was a joke—a walking punchline for every "rich girl gone broke" story, the target of online ridicule, a former heiress reduced to hustling for tips and fighting to take 10,000 goddamn steps.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the sting of old memories.
Fine. Whatever. If the system wanted her to have stamina, she'd take it. She needed endurance for this battle—not for romance, not for some fantasy where she was swept off her feet.
No.
She needed it to survive. To prove she wasn't some washed-up has-been.
And if the world thought she was a joke?
Then she'd make damn sure they'd choke on their laughter.
And the warning, it made her think.
She had thrown herself into this blindly, thinking sheer willpower was enough. But losing weight wasn't just about burning calories.
If she kept pushing like this without a plan, she was going to crash—hard.
"I can't just throw myself at workouts like a lunatic," she muttered. "I need to actually learn how to do this right."
Olivia, sprawled out on the other end of the couch, perked up at that. "Oh? Are we finally admitting that maybe my genius marketing ideas weren't so crazy after all?"
Charlotte rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Olivia had a point.
"What if," Charlotte mused, scrolling through her phone, "I leaned into this differently? Not just 'fat girl struggling to lose weight,' but—"
"A foodie's weight loss journey," Olivia cut in, eyes lighting up. "Holy crap. That's brilliant."
Charlotte grinned. "I know how to cook. I know good food. And let's be real—most weight-loss influencers act like eating is the enemy. But what if I showed people that you can still love food and lose weight?"
Olivia practically jumped up. "You could be a whole-ass brand. Healthy recipes, honest reviews, real struggles—people would eat that up. Pun intended."
Charlotte laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever, excitement buzzing in her veins. Maybe, just maybe, she'd found something she could actually be passionate about.