She whispered my name. And suddenly, the entire office seemed to run out of air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The receptionist hung up slowly, as if she had received an order she was afraid to repeat. She looked me up and down: the clearance-rack blouse, the bleeding knee, the scuffed sneakers, the puffy eyes from lack of sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMr. Wright will see you,\u201d she said. \u201cRight this way, miss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Miss.<\/em> At the Kensington Holdings tower, they had tossed me out like garbage. Here, with my leg busted open and my heart in pieces, someone was calling me miss<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I followed her down a hallway lined with incredibly expensive paintings. Everything smelled of polished mahogany, freshly ground coffee, and crisp air conditioning. At the end stood a heavy oak door with gold lettering: Harrison Wright<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before I could even knock, the door swung open. A man in his late sixties stood before me. Dark suit. Silver hair. Tired, knowing eyes. He didn\u2019t look surprised in the slightest. He looked like he had been waiting for me for years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaya,\u201d he said, and my name in his mouth sounded like an ancient promise. \u201cYour mother was right. You\u2019d come when you were ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t hold it in. \u201cMy mom is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The lawyer closed his eyes for a second. It wasn\u2019t just a gesture of politeness. It genuinely seemed to hurt him. \u201cI know. David let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hearing my adoptive dad\u2019s name coming from his mouth made me clench my fists. \u201cDid you know everything, too?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI knew enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, I didn\u2019t. So start talking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He let me inside. He didn\u2019t offer me a glass of water. He didn\u2019t tell me to calm down or try to sit me down like a scolded child. He simply pointed to a leather armchair and then pulled a heavy metal lockbox out of his desk drawer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Taped to the lid was a label in my mom\u2019s handwriting. For when Maya asks.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt my legs give out, sinking into the chair. \u201cShe left this here four years ago,\u201d Harrison said. \u201cShe specifically asked me not to seek you out. She knew you would come on your own when the truth could no longer be hidden.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat truth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison unlocked the box. Inside were thick folders. A flash drive. Legal certificates. Contracts. Photos. Bank statements. And a letter folded in thirds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I recognized my mom\u2019s handwriting before my fingers even grazed the paper. Maya.<\/em> Nothing more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My hands shook. \u201cRead it later,\u201d Harrison advised. \u201cFirst, there\u2019s something you need to understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo. I\u2019m reading it right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took the letter and unfolded it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sweetheart:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n If you are reading this, forgive me for not telling you sooner who your biological father was. It wasn\u2019t out of shame. I was never ashamed of having you. I was terrified they would take you away from me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Robert Kensington didn\u2019t abandon me because he didn\u2019t love you. He abandoned me because he was a coward.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n But Eleanor Sterling didn\u2019t destroy my life just out of jealousy. She destroyed me because she knew something Robert wouldn\u2019t find out until many years later: you weren\u2019t a mistake. You were the only legitimate heir who could take everything away from her son.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I froze. I looked up at the lawyer. \u201cWhat does \u2018legitimate\u2019 mean in this context?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison took a slow, deep breath. \u201cIt means Robert Kensington and Eleanor Sterling signed an ironclad prenup keeping their assets separate, but they were never actually able to have biological children. Julian is not Robert\u2019s son.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The room started to spin. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJulian was legally registered as his, but he isn\u2019t blood. Robert found out when the boy was ten. Eleanor had forged medical records, dates, adoption papers. By the time he realized it, a scandal would have completely destroyed the holding company, the family name, and the pristine public image they protected so fiercely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gripped the armrests of the leather chair. \u201cAnd me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison opened another manila folder and slid a single sheet of paper toward me. It was a DNA test. Robert Kensington: probability of paternity 99.9998%.<\/em> My name. Maya Harrison.<\/em> My date of birth. My entire existence reduced to a statistical percentage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour mom had it done when you were two years old,\u201d he explained quietly. \u201cRobert paid for the testing in secret.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo he did<\/em> know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd he still left us living under a leaky roof.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison didn\u2019t answer right away. That heavy silence infuriated me more than any excuse could have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThree hundred thousand dollars a month doesn\u2019t buy a childhood!\u201d I yelled, my voice cracking. \u201cMy mom died rationing her heart medication! I worked double shifts scrubbing floors while that man was on the cover of Forbes hugging someone else\u2019s kid!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison looked down at his desk. \u201cYour mom refused to touch that money for herself because she didn\u2019t want Robert to think he could buy her forgiveness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen where is the missing fifty million?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The attorney stood up, walked over to a wall safe hidden behind a framed diploma, and punched in a code. He pulled out a thick red binder. He placed it firmly in front of me. \u201cIn this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I opened it. I didn\u2019t understand the jargon at first. They were investment contracts. Debt assignments. Equity acquisitions. Blind trusts. The names of the exact subsidiary companies I had seen in my mom\u2019s newspaper clippings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I saw my name. Well, not the full name. Initials. M.H. Ultimate beneficiary.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour mom didn\u2019t just hoard that money,\u201d Harrison said. \u201cShe turned it into a key.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA key to what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison stared right at me. \u201cTo enter Kensington Holdings through the very door they slammed in her face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t find my voice. He continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor eighteen years, your mother used portions of Robert\u2019s deposits to quietly buy up toxic debt from the group\u2019s subsidiaries whenever they were in crisis. She did it through shell companies and proxy buyers. Small, calculated portions. Never drawing attention. No one in that boardroom ever imagined that a seamstress from the South Side of Chicago was gathering the leverage that could one day bring a multi-billion-dollar empire to its knees.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I pictured her patched winter coats. Her worn-out shoes. The way she unscrewed lightbulbs in the apartment just to save a few cents on electricity. And it made me want to scream\u2014not out of grief, but pure rage. My mom had lived like a pauper to fund the ultimate downfall of the elite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy didn\u2019t she ever tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause she was terrified you\u2019d go looking for them before the trap was fully set. Because she knew exactly how they would humiliate you. And because she needed one final piece.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat piece?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison tapped the black flash drive on the desk. \u201cRobert\u2019s confession.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He handed it over. It was small, plastic, completely unremarkable. It weighed less than a dime. But it felt like holding a live grenade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA confession?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSix months ago, Robert sat exactly where you\u2019re sitting now. He\u2019s sick, Maya. Terminally sick. I don\u2019t know how much time he has left. He wanted to formally, legally acknowledge you as his daughter. He wanted to rewrite his will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stopped breathing. \u201cAnd did he do it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison clenched his jaw. \u201cHe never got the chance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause Eleanor found out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The name hung in the air between us like a toxic cloud. \u201cWhat did she do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe exact same thing she always does. She locked the problem away. For the past five months, nobody gets access to Robert without going through her first. They changed his specialists, his drivers, his nurses, his private numbers. They even blocked my firm\u2019s calls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you saying they have him hostage?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLegally, I cannot use that word without definitive proof.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut your face is saying it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison didn\u2019t smile. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stood up. The gash on my knee flared with pain, but I pushed through it. \u201cThen let\u2019s get him out of there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s not that simple, Maya.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNothing in my entire life has been simple.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison walked over to his corner window. Through the glass, you could see the Kensington Holdings skyscraper\u2014sleek, towering, arrogant, acting as if the city owed it permission to even exist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou never should have gone to that building today,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, they do now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned to face him. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe second you gave your name to reception, you triggered an alert. Eleanor has been waiting for you to surface for years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A sudden chill ran down my spine. \u201cWaiting for me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison opened one last folder and pulled out a stack of 8\u00d710 glossies. It was me. But not from Instagram. It was me leaving my shift at the coffee shop, wearing my apron. Me swiping my card at the L-train turnstile. Me walking into the clinic with my mom. Me carrying groceries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach churned. \u201cThey were having me followed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor the last two years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDid Mom know about this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, she did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The betrayal rose up so fast it almost choked me. \u201cEveryone knew except me!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour mother was trying to shield you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy mother let me walk blind into a lion\u2019s den with nothing but a damn business card!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d Harrison countered, raising his voice for the first time. \u201cYour mother made you wait until she passed because, if she were alive, she wouldn\u2019t have been able to bear the look of hatred in your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That broke the dam. I slumped back into the chair. I didn\u2019t cry delicately. I sobbed\u2014the kind of ugly, gut-wrenching crying that happens when you finally realize that love can inflict deep wounds, even when it\u2019s paved with the best intentions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison handed me a box of tissues. \u201cMaya, your mother wasn\u2019t uneducated. She wasn\u2019t weak. She wasn\u2019t sitting around waiting for karma or justice. She was engineering it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd what exactly am I supposed to be in all this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe heir.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I let out a wet, bitter laugh. \u201cI\u2019m not the heir to a damn thing. I can\u2019t even walk in heels without twisting an ankle. I don\u2019t know how to speak their language. Two hours ago, a security guard physically tossed me onto the sidewalk, and Julian Kensington threw cash at me like I was a stray dog.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison looked at me with an unwavering calmness that only made me angrier. \u201cThat is exactly why you\u2019re going to have to learn quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n At that exact moment, the console on his desk buzzed. The receptionist spoke through the intercom, her voice visibly shaking. \u201cMr. Wright\u2026 Mrs. Eleanor Sterling is in the lobby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My entire body turned to stone. Harrison didn\u2019t flinch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs she alone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, sir. She\u2019s accompanied by Mr. Julian Kensington\u2026 and private security.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at the lockbox. The flash drive. The DNA test. My initials stamped on legal documents powerful enough to implode a dynasty. Harrison swiftly gathered everything up, moving efficiently without a trace of panic, and locked them away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cListen to me very carefully,\u201d he instructed. \u201cNo matter what happens in the next five minutes, do not sign a single page. Do not accept anything, and do not deny anything. You just watch her. Sometimes, holding their gaze without fear is the first move in winning the war.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The oak door swung open without anyone knocking. Eleanor Sterling glided into the room as if she owned the building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was a bit shorter than I\u2019d imagined, but her presence sucked the oxygen from the room. Tailored white pantsuit, a strand of flawless pearls, blood-red lipstick, and eyes as cold as glass. Right behind her sauntered Julian, impeccably dressed, wearing the exact same look of disgust he had when I was bleeding on the concrete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When he spotted me, a cruel smirk touched his lips. \u201cWell, look at this,\u201d he sneered. \u201cThe charity case from the plaza actually found a hack to play along with her little extortion scheme.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t take the bait. Eleanor didn\u2019t even glance at her son. She just locked her dead eyes onto mine. And suddenly, I completely understood why my mother had stayed in the shadows for nearly two decades. This woman didn\u2019t look angry. She looked like someone who was entirely accustomed to destroying people and getting away with it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaya Harrison,\u201d she said, pronouncing my name as if she had just tasted spoiled milk. \u201cYour mother always did have an incredibly poor sense of timing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stood up to my full height. \u201cDo not speak about my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Julian let out a barking laugh. \u201cOr what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shifted my gaze to him. \u201cOr I\u2019ll make you get on your knees and pick up the cash you threw in my face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His arrogant smirk vanished. Harrison stepped smoothly between us. \u201cMrs. Sterling, you are in my private offices. I strongly suggest you watch your tone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor casually tossed a leather-bound folder onto his desk. \u201cI am simply here to contain a nuisance. Inside is an ironclad non-disclosure agreement and an exceedingly generous severance package. The little girl signs on the dotted line, vanishes back to whichever slum she crawled out of, and we all proceed with our lives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m not a little girl,\u201d I shot back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor\u2019s eyes flicked down to my dried blood on my leg. \u201cNo, you\u2019re right. You\u2019re something much worse. You\u2019re a poor adult holding onto leverage she doesn\u2019t possess the intellect to comprehend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt the sting of the insult, but I held my ground. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you explain it to me, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n For the very first time, a microscopic crack appeared in her composure. She hadn\u2019t anticipated that response. Honestly, neither had I. But my mother\u2019s dying words were burning in my chest: don\u2019t beg, don\u2019t kneel.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor\u2019s smile returned, slow and venomous. \u201cYour mother was a cheap factory fling. An old, vulgar embarrassment. A mistake that Robert paid exorbitant amounts of money to bury.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThree hundred grand a month just to shut her up?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTo keep the trash on the curb where it belonged.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison raised a warning hand. \u201cTread very carefully, Eleanor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She waved him off. \u201cYour mother could have lived like a queen. She could have purchased a beautiful home, cars, decent apparel. But she preferred to wallow in her own martyrdom. Her misery is hardly my fault.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took a deliberate step toward her. \u201cNo. Your fault was dragging a pregnant woman by her hair across a concrete factory floor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Julian whipped his head around to stare at his mother. \u201cWait, what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor\u2019s expression remained frozen, but a muscle feathered in her jaw. How poetic.<\/em> The golden prince didn\u2019t even know his own family\u2019s history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLooks like your mommy kept secrets from you, too,\u201d I taunted Julian. \u201cGuess it\u2019s a family tradition.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShut your mouth,\u201d he snapped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDid she happen to mention that Robert was drawing up papers to formally acknowledge me as his daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Julian went completely rigid. Eleanor was faster. \u201cFabrications and lies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison calmly opened his center drawer, retrieved a photocopy, and slid it across the glass desk. \u201cDraft of legal acknowledgment. Dated six months ago. Bearing Robert\u2019s preliminary signature.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Julian snatched the paper. His eyes darted across the text, and his complexion went from arrogant flush to pale dread. \u201cMom\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat document holds absolutely zero legal validity,\u201d Eleanor hissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot quite yet,\u201d Harrison corrected smoothly. \u201cBut it is more than enough to file an inquiry. And you\u2019d be surprised how curious federal judges get when a terminally ill CEO suddenly vanishes behind a wall of new doctors just days after attempting to name a new beneficiary.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor finally looked at me like she was truly seeing me. Not as a broke barista. Not as an inconvenient mistake. She saw a threat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou have no idea who you are declaring war on, little girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, I think I do,\u201d I replied. \u201cI\u2019m looking at the woman who spent eighteen years living in utter terror of a factory seamstress.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The slap was blindingly fast. I never even saw her hand move. My cheek, my ear, my pride all burned with a sharp, ringing heat. Julian physically recoiled in shock. Harrison shouted her name. The private security guards tensed. But my feet stayed planted. I didn\u2019t fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I slowly touched my stinging cheek, staring her dead in the eyes. Then, I smiled. Because tucked away in the upper corner of the ceiling molding was a blinking security camera.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eleanor followed my gaze. She saw it, too\u2014a second too late. Harrison spoke with a lethal, icy calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThank you, Eleanor. You just made the assault filings significantly easier.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The matriarch\u2019s mask completely shattered for a fraction of a second. But she forcefully reined it in, snatched her leather folder off the desk, and pivoted toward the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou have exactly forty-eight hours to sign that NDA and take the payout,\u201d she told me over her shoulder. \u201cAfter that, you are going to learn the hard way that genetics are entirely useless when you don\u2019t wield the family name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just before she crossed the threshold, she leaned in close to me. \u201cOh, and do tell David I still remember him fondly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The heavy oak door clicked shut. I went cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDavid?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison deliberately avoided my eyes. That was my first red flag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy would she say that?\u201d The lawyer remained totally silent. \u201cHarrison.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He exhaled a long, heavy breath, like a man who knows he is about to shatter someone\u2019s reality all over again. \u201cBecause David didn\u2019t just marry your mother to protect her honor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every ounce of adrenaline rushed back into my system. \u201cWhat exactly are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Harrison unlocked the metal box one more time and withdrew a faded Polaroid. My mom, young and radiant. David, youthful and sharp. Robert standing just behind them. And Eleanor dead center, with a hand draped intimately over David\u2019s shoulder. Too close. Far too familiar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the back of the picture, a faded date was scrawled in pen. Exactly one year before I was born. Harrison handed it to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBefore he ever worked for Robert, David was employed as Eleanor\u2019s fixer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My cell phone buzzed violently in my pocket right at that second. It was an urgent text from David.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maya, don\u2019t come back to the apartment. There are things your mother forbade me from telling you.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Immediately followed by an attached image. The front door of our dingy apartment was kicked wide open. And sitting right in the center of our living room, perched like a queen on my mother\u2019s thrift-store couch, was Eleanor Sterling.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The night my mother passed away, I found a bankbook stashed under her mattress. It showed a balance of $14,600,000\u2014which made no sense for a woman who… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3802","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3802","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3802"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3802\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3805,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3802\/revisions\/3805"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3802"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3802"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ustinh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3802"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}