I bet $1,000 that shy girl won’t even make it to the piano. Those words spoken with casual cruelty by CEO Brandon Walsh would spark the most inspirational transformation anyone in that glittering room had ever witnessed. What started as heartwarming mockery would become something that changed everything.

 The 42nd floor of Walsh Capital gleamed like a golden cathedral that winter evening. Manhattan’s most powerful financial minds gathered for their annual charity gayla designer gowns rustling against thousand suits as champagne glasses clinkedked. But in the shadows, almost invisible moved Lily Morgan.

 24 years old, she pushed her cleaning cart past marble columns, worn sneakers silent on polished floors. Her pale hands, roughened by years of scrubbing, moved quietly as she emptied trash bins. She was a ghost in her own world, existing between other people’s conversations. While executives laughed about stock options, Lily’s thoughts drifted to her mother’s hospital room 2 years ago, the day she dropped out of Giuliard to become a caregiver.

Music school felt like someone else’s dream, now buried beneath medical bills. Brandon Walsh surveyed his empire from the room’s center steel gray eyes, calculating everything. At 36, he’d built Walsh Capital from nothing but the foundation was laid in foster homes, where he’d learned that love was conditional, and survival meant never showing vulnerability.

 His mother had walked away when he was 10, leaving only the lesson that people disappeared when you needed them most. Tonight, even success felt hollow. Same faces, same conversations, same empty charity ritual. He found himself stifling a yawn, his expression settling into bored superiority that had protected him for decades.

Mr. Walsh. Scarlet Price appeared at his elbow like smoke red lips curved in that smile that never reached her eyes. At 30, she’d perfected seeming indispensable while harboring deep resentments. As his senior assistant, she’d positioned herself as irreplaceable over five careful years. Perhaps we need some entertainment.

Brandon’s attention wandered to Lily, quietly, replacing napkins, her movements so unobtrusive she might have been furniture. Something about her careful invisibility irritated him. Entertainment. His voice carried the flat tone of someone going through familiar motions. Perhaps someone from our support staff could share their hidden talents.

 Scarlet’s voice carried loud enough for nearby guests to hear. I’m sure everyone would find it amusing. Conversations quieted as ears tuned to developing drama. Scarlet’s eyes fixed on Lily with predatory precision. Lily, she only knows how to mop floors. I’m sure she has loads of talent hidden away. The cruelty was barely concealed, cutting deep while maintaining plausible deniability.

 Murmurss rippled through the crowd, some uncomfortable others anticipatory. Brandon felt something cold settle in his chest. Not empathy, but intellectual curiosity mixed with that 10-year-old boy who’d learned to find entertainment in others discomfort. He let out a soft sigh, the sound of profound boredom, and nodded with casual indifference. What happened next would prove that sometimes the most profound moments begin with the crulest challenges.

 I’m Lily. Brandon’s voice cut through the room like a blade carrying authority that came with owning the building. She froze dust cloth in hand, suddenly aware that every face had turned toward her. The collective gaze felt like drowning. Her cheeks burned with sudden exposure. I’m I’m working, Mr.

 Walsh,” she whispered barely audible. “We’re suggesting you might entertain our guests.” Scarlet stepped forward with predatory confidence. “Surely you have some little talent singing, perhaps. The word singing hung like an accusation. How could she possibly know about the secret concerts in empty conference rooms after hours? Then Mr.

 Gerald appeared from the shadows where security guards learned to blend into expensive wallpaper. At 68, his weathered hands still remembered saxophone keys from jazz days in Harlem clubs. His trained ear had been listening to Lily’s after hours performances for months, recognizing extraordinary talent. He moved closer to Lily, his voice carrying gentle authority. Your voice can make this room silent.

You have the right to step up. He said softly, his tone weighted with deeper wisdom. This shy girl had been hiding something extraordinary, and Gerald knew it was time for the world to see. Lily’s hands began trembling, not with fear exactly, but with something more complex. Recognition maybe. She looked around at faces ranging from curious to contemptuous these people who measured her worth by how completely she erased evidence of their presence. I I couldn’t.

 She stammered words catching like caged birds. But Scarlet wasn’t finished. What? Only good at mopping floors? Her voice carried across the room with calculated precision, ensuring everyone heard the humiliation. I mean, what would someone like her possibly have to offer people like us? The line was drawn, the challenge issued not just to Lily, but to every assumption about worth and dignity that filled this glittering room. Brandon found himself speaking before consciously deciding.

$1,000 says she won’t do it. The number hung like a bell’s toll. $1,000 more than Lily made in two months. Sir, Lily’s voice was barely a whisper. One song. Brandon said his tone business-like and cold. On that piano, if you can manage it. The grand piano sat in the corner like a sleeping giant, its black surface reflecting chandelier light.

 Lily stared at it, remembering other pianos, other dreams, other versions of herself that seemed distant as stars. This is ridiculous, someone muttered. Poor thing looks terrified, another voice added. But Gerald stepped closer, his hand briefly touching her shoulder. Some moments choose us. This one’s choosing you. The inspirational words seemed to steady something inside her.

 Even the most heartwarming encouragement couldn’t eliminate her fear, but it could give her strength to face it. Would she find courage to step from shadows, or would fear keep her forever invisible? The walk to the piano felt like crossing an ocean during a storm. Each step echoed in sudden quiet as conversations died and eyes followed her movement.

 The instrument loomed like a sleeping giant, its surface reflecting chandelier light. Lily’s heart hammered as she approached her cleaning uniform stark against the polished elegance. The bench felt foreign beneath her, too smooth, too expensive. Her fingers rough from years of scrubbing hovered over keys. What song? The question escaped before she could stop it.

 Brandon Arms crossed in calculated indifference, shrugged with casual cruelty. Whatever you think you can manage. The dismissal was like a slap, but somehow it steadied her. She’d heard that tone before from doctors who spoke over her mother’s bed, from people who’d never learned that dignity wasn’t determined by bank balances.

Her fingers found the opening chord of Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen’s masterpiece, the song her mother had hummed during chemo treatments. The first notes floated into air like audible prayers, tentative at first, then growing stronger. Then she began to sing. Her voice emerged soft and trembling, each word carrying the weight of years spent invisible.

 But as familiar lyrics wrapped around her heart, something remarkable happened. The trembling faded, replaced by something pure and powerful. I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord. The transformation was visible. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted, and her voice grew richer, fuller, carrying not just melody, but story.

 Every note held her journey, the Giuliard scholarship earned through talent. The mother she’d loved enough to sacrifice everything for the dignity found in honest work. In the audience, faces began changing. Boredom melted, replaced by surprise than something deeper. Scarlet’s practiced smile flickered and died. Several women in designer gowns found themselves thinking of their own mothers, their own sacrifices.

But Brandon experienced the most profound shift. As Lily’s voice climbed through Cohen’s sacred mathematics, something cracked inside his chest, something frozen since he was 10, and learned that love was temporary, that people left. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

 Not the humiliation of someone out of their depth fumbling through unmanageable performance. This was profound, raw, real in ways his carefully controlled world had forgotten. Her voice didn’t just fill the room, it transformed it, turning a space designed for transactions into something almost holy. This shy girl was revealing something inspirational that had been hidden from the world.

 And the heartwarming power of her gift was undeniable. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. When Lily reached the final verse, her voice broke, not with weakness, but with emotional honesty that wealthy people paid therapists hundreds of dollars hourly to access. Tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry for months, finally found their way down her cheeks.

 The last note faded into absolute silence. For exactly two seconds, no one moved. No one breathed. The room had been transformed into something sacred, and everyone knew they’d witnessed something they hadn’t earned, but had somehow been given. Two seconds of perfect, stunned silence. Then Brandon Walsh, the man who hadn’t applauded anything in years, stood up without saying a word.

 His movement seemed to break a spell, and others began following, rising from seats with something approaching reverence. The applause that followed wasn’t polite social patter, but something deeper, more genuine. It rolled through the room like thunder. But Lily barely heard it. She sat at the piano bench, staring at her hands, wondering where that voice had come from and whether she was allowed to claim it as her own.

 The first twist had landed perfectly. Nothing would ever be the same as applause gradually faded and conversations slowly resumed. The air felt different, charged with something that hadn’t existed before Lily’s voice had filled the space. People moved differently, spoke softer, as if afraid to disturb lingering echoes.

 Lily remained at the piano hands, folded, still processing what had happened. The transformation from invisible cleaning woman to someone who could command Manhattan elite attention felt surreal. Behind her conversations buzzed with different energy. Did you know she could sing like that? That was absolutely extraordinary. The tone wasn’t condescending anymore.

It was genuinely impressed. Scarlet watched these exchanges with growing alarm, her makeup unable to hide anger creeping up her neck. This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Lily was supposed to fail to prove people knew their place. Instead, she had somehow made everyone see her as worthy.

 The thought made Scarlet’s jaw clench her hands, forming fists. She gritted her teeth so hard a muscle jumped in her cheek. But Brandon’s reaction proved most unsettling. He stood motionless near his table, his usual control mask, completely absent. Something fundamental had shifted in his understanding of the world.

 For 36 years, he’d operated on the principle that value was measurable in dollars achievements power. But what he’d witnessed defied those metrics entirely. Across the room, Mr. Gerald watched with deep satisfaction a gentle smile playing at his weathered mouth’s corners. He smiled knowingly, recognizing that talent like Lily’s couldn’t stay hidden forever.

The crowd parted as Brandon made his way across the room, creating anticipation ripples among guests. Would he congratulate her? The curiosity was palpable. When he reached the piano, Brandon stopped directly in front of Lily, his expression unreadable. She looked up with wide eyes, uncertain whether she was about to be praised or dismissed. The silence stretched between them, loaded with possibility.

Then without saying a single word, Brandon reached into his jacket and withdrew his business card. The small white rectangle seemed to glow in chandelier light as he held it out. His fingers brushed hers as she took it, and something electric passed between them. Recognition. One soul acknowledging another. My office 8:00 a.m.

 tomorrow,” he said simply, his voice carrying none of its usual coldness. The words were quiet, meant only for her, but somehow felt more significant than any grand speech. Lily stared at the card, elegant script, reading Brandon Walsh, chief executive officer. The weight of possibility felt enormous, almost frightening. Mr. Walsh.

 I But he was already turning away, leaving her with questions and hope. The simple exchange had lasted less than a minute, but everyone understood they’d witnessed something important. As Brandon walked toward his table, the crowd parted respectfully, conversations resuming in hushed tones. The evening had been irrevocably altered. The invisible girl had been seen, really seen for perhaps the first time.

Gerald approached Lily as she finally rose from the piano bench, his smile warm. “That was beautiful, child,” he said softly. “Your mama would be proud.” The words hit like a blessing, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. For the first time in two years, she felt like maybe she hadn’t lost everything when her mother died.

Maybe some dreams could be resurrected. But across the room, Scarlet Price was already formulating plans to ensure this evening’s anomaly wouldn’t become tomorrow’s new reality. The next morning arrived gray and drizzling, matching the uncertainty that had kept Lily awake. She’d held Brandon’s business card until the edges were soft from nervous handling, unable to quite believe the invitation was real.

 At exactly 8:00, she stood outside Brandon Walsh’s office, heartammering. Through glass walls, she could see him at his desk, reading with focused intensity. His office was controlled power floor toseeiling windows overlooking the city awards arranged with military precision. “Come in,” he called when she knocked.

 Lily perched on the leather chair’s edge, hands folded tightly. The chair was so expensive it made her acutely aware of her worn clothing, her bargain store shoes. How long have you been cleaning here? He asked, his tone business-like but not unkind. Two years, sir. And before that? She hesitated, knowing her answer would reveal how far she’d fallen. I was studying music at Giuliard.

Something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. The name Giuliard carried weight even in financial circles. What happened? The question hung between them, loaded with possibilities for both truth and comfortable lies. She chose honesty. My mother got sick. Pancreatic cancer. I dropped out to take care of her full-time.

 Her voice grew stronger as she continued. After she passed, I needed work immediately. I had medical bills, funeral expenses. This job has been good to me. Honest work is nothing to be ashamed of. Brandon studied her with new interest, his assessment shifting. This wasn’t the submissive response he’d expected.

 There was steel beneath the shyness, strength beneath humility. She’d made the ultimate sacrifice, giving up dreams to care for someone she loved, then found ways to survive with grace. “I have a proposition,” he said, finally leaning forward. “Walsh Capital sponsors a company scholarship program, full tuition plus living stipened for employees who want to continue their education.

” Lily’s breath caught. The offer was so unexpected, so generous, it felt like the universe suddenly realigning. There’s more. His voice carried warmth she’d never heard before. We’re starting a company band, monthly performances during lunch breaks.

 Community building team morale, you understand? I’d like you to be our lead vocalist. The second part hit her like a physical blow. Lead vocalist. Not just another member, but the center, the focal point. It was more than she dared dream. Why? She whispered the question containing all her confusion. For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Brandon looked uncertain, vulnerable in ways that reminded her he was human rather than just corporate force.

Because last night, you did something I didn’t think was possible anymore. You reminded a room full of cynical people what genuine beauty sounds like. He paused. And maybe you reminded me that human value isn’t measured by achievements alone. The confession hung between them like a bridge neither had expected to find.

 This was the second twist when everything she’d believed about her life’s trajectory shifted again. but neither realized that Scarlet Price had positioned herself just outside the glass office, earpressed close enough to catch every word. Her face contorted with rage as she absorbed Brandon’s generosity towards someone she considered beneath contempt. A scholarship, a leadership position, special attention from the CEO himself.

Everything Scarlet had worked 5 years to achieve was being handed to someone who’d been invisible just 24 hours ago. As she listened to their continued conversation, her mind began racing through possibilities, through ways to ensure this fairy tale ending never had a chance to begin. By the time Lily emerged from Brandon’s office, glowing with hope, Scarlet had already begun formulating a plan that would destroy everything before it could take root. The second twist had created new possibilities, but it had also awakened

forces that would stop at nothing to crush them. The heartwarming generosity this shy girl was receiving would soon face its greatest test, but the inspirational power of her gift had already begun changing everything around her.

 Two days passed since Brandon’s extraordinary offer, and Lily walked through Walsh Capital with different energy. She still performed cleaning duties. The scholarship wouldn’t begin until next semester. But now conversations paused when she passed colleagues nodding with newfound respect. While Lily basked in her first taste of recognition, Scarlet Price worked in shadows with focused intensity.

 Five years of careful positioning of making herself indispensable to Brandon Walsh. all threatened by a cleaning woman who’d had one lucky moment in the spotlight. That evening, as most employees headed home, Scarlet remained in the office, watching and waiting. She’d studied the building’s rhythms, knew exactly when the administrative floor would be empty, except for cleaning staff and security.

 Her plan required precision and cold calculation that had always been her greatest strength. At 6:47 p.m., she made her move. The administrative pool area was deserted computers sitting idle like sleeping sentinels. Scarlet had memorized login credentials of several junior staff members. Information gathered through months of careful observation and social engineering.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she accessed the company email system. Heartracing with sabotage thrill. The message she crafted was a destruction masterpiece perfectly calibrated to cause maximum damage while appearing to come from Lily’s newly created employee email account.

 She addressed it to Walsh Capital’s three most important clients firms generating millions in revenue whose displeasure could shake the company’s foundations. The tone was perfectly wrong, condescending, entitled insulting in exactly the ways that would trigger wealthy egos and threaten lucrative relationships. As she typed Scarlet’s lips, curved in satisfaction. By tomorrow morning, complaints would be pouring in.

 Brandon would have no choice but to terminate Lily immediately. Scholarship and company band be damned. But Scarlet’s focus on her screen prevented her from noticing the figure who’d appeared in the security office two floors below. Mr. Gerald, making his nightly rounds, had paused at monitor banks showing every building corner.

 His weathered eyes trained by decades of watching for things that didn’t belong, had caught sight of movement in the administrative area long after it should have been empty. There on grainy footage, he could see Scarlet hunched over a computer that wasn’t her assigned workstation, typing with fertive intensity. Gerald had worked security for 40 years.

 He knew suspicious behavior when he saw it. More importantly, he knew betrayal when he witnessed it. The way Scarlet glanced around nervously, the careful timing of her actions using someone else’s computer, it all painted a picture that made his blood run cold. Gerald quietly activated the security systems recording function, capturing everything.

 Then, moving with silent efficiency that had made him invaluable in various careers, he made his way toward the administrative floor. if Scarlet was planning what he suspected he needed more than just video evidence. As he approached the area where she worked, he could hear her voice, not the careful, professional tone she used during business hours, but something uglier, more revealing.

 She was on a phone call speaking in hushed conspiracy tones. Oh, it was perfect. He heard her saying, her voice bubbling with malicious satisfaction. I used her credentials to send the nastiest email to our biggest clients. By tomorrow, that little cleaning girl will be history, and Brandon will realize he needs someone more suitable by his side.

 Gerald’s hand moved to the small digital recorder he always carried, a habit from jazz days, when capturing impromptu sessions was part of the job. The device was already running, preserving every word of Scarlet’s confession. The enemy’s scheme was in motion, but so was justice waiting in shadows with patient determination and the kind of evidence that would speak louder than any denial. The storm 

hit with devastating precision. At 9:17 a.m., Brandon’s assistant buzzed his intercom with unusual urgency, her voice tight with stress from fielding angry phone calls from very important people. Sir, the board of directors has called an emergency meeting. Three major clients have filed formal complaints about inappropriate communications from our staff.

 Within minutes, Brandon faced the full board of directors in emergency session, their faces ranging from concerned to furious. The conference room felt like a tribunal with Brandon suddenly on trial for a crime he didn’t understand. Board Chairman Roberts, a silver-haired man who’d helped build Walsh Capital from its early days, slid a printed email across the polished table with the gravity of someone presenting murder evidence.

This came from one of your employees accounts yesterday evening. Three of our most important clients received it. Brandon read the message, his face growing darker with each line. The email, allegedly from Lily’s new company account, was a professional suicide masterpiece, condescending, entitled, and insulting in exactly the ways that would trigger wealthy egos and threaten milliondoll relationships.

 This is completely unacceptable, Roberts continued his voice, carrying decades of authority. We’re talking about accounts worth 30 million annually. They’re threatening to pull their business entirely if we don’t take immediate action. We demand the immediate termination of this employee. The room pressure was suffocating. Brandon felt the weight of every board member’s expectation, every stockholders’s investment.

 His company, his life’s work suddenly balanced on a knife’s edge because of one email. Get her up here now. He ordered his voice carrying cold authority. Lily arrived 10 minutes later, still wearing cleaning gloves, confusion written across her face. The moment she saw Brandon’s expression, her stomach dropped.

 Did you send this? He turned his laptop screen toward her, the damning email displayed in all its toxic glory. Lily read the message, her face going pale, then flushing with shock and rising panic. Mr. Walsh, I would never. I don’t even know how to access the company email system. The IT department confirms it came from an account created under your name yesterday evening, Roberts interjected.

But I wasn’t even here yesterday evening. I left right after our meeting. Lily’s voice cracked with desperation. Why would I write something like this after everything you offered me yesterday? Why would I destroy my own chance? The logic was sound, but evidence was evidence. Brandon wanted to believe her something.

 In her genuine confusion felt authentic, but the board was watching. Clients were threatening and his company’s reputation hung in the balance. Brandon is angry but lacks proof to clear her name yet. The frustrated confusion of someone watching his world shift beneath his feet was eating him alive. As if summoned by chaos, Scarlet appeared in the doorway, her expression perfectly crafted to convey concern and regret.

 “Such a shame,” she said, her voice carrying just the right note of disappointed sympathy as she looked directly at Lily. “The stage isn’t for people who mop floors. Keep cleaning. That’s what you’re good for. The cruelty in her tone was barely concealed. Now her mask slipping just enough to reveal satisfaction beneath. “I’m sorry,” Brandon said, his voice returning to its familiar cold tone as self-preservation won out over instinct. The scared 10-year-old inside chose safety over courage.

But I can’t take risks with the company’s reputation. Your employment is terminated effective immediately. The words hit Lily like a physical blow. She stood there processing the sudden collapse of hope she’d barely allowed herself to feel. But before security could arrive to escort her from the building. The conference room door opened to reveal Mr.

 Gerald his usually gentle demeanor, replaced by something steelh hard and determined. In his weathered hands, he carried a small digital recorder and a manila folder thick with documentation. “Mr. Walsh,” he said, his voice, carrying decades of quiet authority. “Before you make a decision you can’t take back, I think you need to hear something.

” He set the recorder on the conference table and pressed play. The room fell silent except for the soft wh were of the device and then Scarlet’s voice emerged clear and unmistakably proud. Oh, it was perfect. Her recorded voice bubbled with malicious satisfaction. I used her credentials to send the nastiest email to our biggest clients.

 By tomorrow, that little cleaning girl will be history, and Brandon will realize he needs someone more suitable. by his side. The timestamp on the recording showed it was made just hours after Lily and Brandon’s meeting proof of both timing and premeditation. Gerald had accidentally captured her bragging about the plan to a friend during what she thought was a private phone call, her arrogance ultimately becoming her downfall.

 “This recording was made accidentally when I overheard Ms. Price boasting about her scheme,” Gerald explained calmly. I’ve also included security footage showing her using unauthorized computer access during the time the email was sent. The room’s silence was deafening. Every face turned toward Scarlet, whose carefully maintained composure cracked like ice under spring sun.

 This was the final twist when truth destroyed lies and justice emerged from shadows. This shy girl’s inspirational story would continue, and the heartwarming power of truth had finally set her free. Six months later, the lights of Central Park’s outdoor amphitheater twinkled like earthbound stars under the October sky.

 The annual music festival had drawn thousands of people to spread blankets on grass families and couples united by the promise of an evening filled with beauty and community. Backstage, Lily adjusted her simple black dress, not expensive, but elegant in its simplicity chosen because it reminded her of clothes her mother used to wear to church.

 The scholarship had allowed her to return to music theory classes, and she’d been working with a voice coach who helped her understand that her gift was meant to be shared, not hidden in empty conference rooms. Her hands were steadier now than they’d been that first night at the piano. The months of training, of small performances at company lunch showcases, of gradually building confidence, had transformed not just her voice, but her entire sense of self. She was no longer the invisible cleaning woman who sang in shadows.

 She was Lily Morgan’s scholarship student and featured performer, someone whose voice mattered. Nervous, Brandon appeared behind her, looking relaxed in ways she’d never seen before. The months had been kind to him, too, softening the edges that years of emotional armor had created. Good. Nervous, she replied, turning to face him with a smile that reached her eyes.

 The kind that means something matters. Through stage curtains, she could see the audience thousands of people spread across grass like a living quilt. But there in the VIP section sat her chosen family from Walsh Capital. And in the front row, Mr. Gerald held a handmade sign that simply read, “Proud of you, child.” The stage manager appeared. Ms.

Morgan, you’re on in 2 minutes. As Lily walked toward the stage, she thought about that night 6 months ago when she’d believed she was invisible. When she’d thought that people like her didn’t deserve to dream out loud. She thought about her mother, who had always told her that courage wasn’t the absence of fear. It was singing anyway.

The applause as she took the stage was warm and welcoming building as the audience recognized her from previous performances. But what struck her most was the quality of silence that followed. Not the shocked silence of that first night, but the anticipatory silence of people who had come specifically to hear what she had to offer.

 She began with Hallelujah again, but this version was completely transformed from that first trembling performance. This was stronger, richer, filled with all the healing and growth that had filled the months between. When she reached the final chorus, something magical happened. Voices from the audience joined her, thousands of people singing together under stars.

 When the song ended, the audience stood as one the crowd rose to applaud with power that seemed to lift her off the ground. Brandon sat in the audience smiling with quiet pride as he watched what happened when someone was finally given space to become who they’d always been meant to be.

 As applause finally began to fade and Lily stepped down from the stage, Brandon approached her with something different in his expression. Vulnerability mixed with wonder. hope tempered by patience. “I once dared you to step on stage,” he said softly, taking her hand as festivalgoers continued cheering around them.

 “Today I know I’ve stepped into your life.” The words carried weight beyond romance. They spoke of transformation of two people who had found something neither expected in a world that tried to keep them apart. Later, in a quiet corner of festival grounds, Mr. Gerald sat beside an old upright piano that someone had donated years ago.

 Tears of pride rolled down his weathered cheeks as he listened to distant applause, echoes still ringing through the park. “That’s my girl,” he whispered to the night air, his fingers ghosting over keys that held memories of jazz clubs and dreams that never die. This shy girl’s inspirational journey had become a heartwarming testament to the power of believing in yourself even when the world tries to make you invisible.