Ashley and I didn’t go home that night.
We were both busy.
Very busy.
The next morning during break, Jason had someone wheel in boxes of fancy ice cream and milk tea for the class.
He handed them out one by one in front of everyone.
Laughing.
Smiling.
Playing the generous prince.
And when he reached my desk—
He skipped me on purpose.
The entire class went quiet for a beat.
Then filled with that weird crackling tension people get when they’re enjoying a public humiliation but pretending they’re not.
I just smiled faintly and kept doing my work.
These were things I could buy for myself in the future.
As many as I wanted.
I didn’t need scraps thrown from the hands of a boy who thought cruelty made him powerful.
Jason leaned against the podium and said loudly, “Sophie still isn’t back at school. The doctor says she’s under too much emotional stress.”
He sighed dramatically.
“She’s always had to endure so much in that house.”
“She’s the type who gives everything away just to keep the peace.”
“Living with two selfish, vicious girls like that… honestly, the fact she’s survived this long is a miracle.”
Then he pointed directly at me.
“Emily, even if I were blind, I’d never like someone like you.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Every gift you ever gave me made my skin crawl.”
The room stayed silent.
He was waiting for me to break.
To cry.
To run.
Instead, I looked up and smiled.
Maybe little girls dream about being rescued by a boy one day.
Maybe once, I did too.
But I had died once already.
I knew now that the only person truly capable of saving me…
Was me.
Jason must have mistaken my calm for weakness, because he stepped closer.
His mouth twisted.
“Honestly, what even is a girl like you doing dancing for points all the time?”
“Who knows if you’re actually performing or just using it to seduce people?”
The classroom exploded before I even consciously decided to move.
SMACK.
My palm cracked across his face so hard his head snapped sideways.
He froze.
The entire class gasped.
Then I reached into one of the unopened drink boxes on the desk beside him, twisted off the cap of a milk tea, and poured it over his head.
The sticky liquid ran down his hair, his neck, his uniform collar.
Nobody breathed.
I tossed the empty cup into the trash.
Then I slowly wiped my hand clean with a tissue.
“You can dislike me. That’s your right.”
“But you do not get to humiliate me.”
“My past feelings for you were not something shameful.”
“I was sincere.”
“I treated you well.”
“I did everything I could.”
I looked him dead in the eyes.
“Being liked by me was your good fortune.”
“Losing me is your loss.”
“Jason Miller, you’re a terrible judge of character.”
“And one day…”
“You’re going to regret it.”
He stood there drenched and stunned while the classroom buzzed into chaos.
For the rest of the day, I tuned it all out and studied.
That was the strange clarity death gave you.
You realized how little most people mattered.
How much time you wasted on noise.
That night during evening self-study, chaos erupted from the back row.
“Holy crap—what is this?”
Students crowded around a phone.
Whispers turned into shocked exclamations.
Then fury.
A girl slammed her phone down on my desk.
“Emily Carter, are you even human?”
On the screen was an anonymous campus confession post.
The target was obvious.
It described the school’s newly famous dance goddess as a fake daughter who had been raised in luxury by a kind family, only to repay them by bullying everyone in the house, forcing her cousin to eat leftovers, washing her feet, abusing her, and using dirty methods to climb to the top.
It even implied I had slept my way into my opportunities.
There were screenshots too.
Fake chat logs.
Fake messages written in my name.
The things “I” supposedly said were so obscene, so vile, so deranged that even I felt sick reading them.
And it was already everywhere.
The confession page.
Student group chats.
Forums.
Comment sections hundreds of posts deep.
People who had never spoken to me were suddenly experts on my character.
“So disgusting.”
“A foster kid who bites the hand that feeds her.”
“She always acted so pure. Figures it was fake.”
“I heard she walks weird sometimes after dance practice. Wonder what else she does after hours.”
“I’d be scared to be in the same room as her.”
I slapped my palm against the desk hard enough to make several people jump.
“Making and spreading false accusations is illegal.”
“Everything in that post is fabricated.”
“I never said those things, and I would never do those things.”
My voice was steady.
It didn’t matter.
The class only laughed harder.
“You are adopted, though, right?”
“How do you still have the nerve to stay in that family’s house?”
“People don’t make up rumors for no reason.”
“You wear skirts all the time, don’t you?”
I laughed.
Cold.
Sharp.
“You want to know why I lead performances?”
“Because I practice until one in the morning.”
“Because while the rest of you are sleeping, I’m still in the studio.”
“Because while you’re wasting time spreading rumors, I’m actually working.”
The bell rang.
I grabbed my bag and left.
I didn’t bother fighting the mob.
That was the thing about mobs.
They didn’t want truth.
They wanted blood.
But rumors were not knives.
Not unless you handed them your throat.
So I walked through the school gates while students pointed and whispered behind me.
Then, little by little…
The noise around me disappeared.
I turned.
Ashley was riding slowly behind me with several girls from her team.
Ponytail high.
Bag slung over one shoulder.
She looked like a rose lit on fire in the dark.
Her voice rang out clear and hard.
“I know Emily better than any of you.”
“She is not someone you get to bully.”
“If anybody has something to say, say it to me.”
That was the first time in both my lives I ever sat on the back of Ashley’s bike.
For someone with so much muscle in her arms, her waist was shockingly slim.
She smelled like clean laundry and cold air.
I almost leaned into her before catching myself.
Her shoulders tensed slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
She snorted.
When we got home, Dad was out drinking like usual.
Mom was at another mahjong table, blowing through our money like it grew on trees.
Ashley parked the bike in the basement and reached into her backpack.
She pulled out two cartons of milk.
One chocolate.
One strawberry.
She handed me the strawberry one.
My favorite.
“Drink it.”
“You’re too skinny.”
“You look like a damn wind chime.”
Then she turned and started upstairs.
Grinning, I followed after her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Back in our rooms, something almost made me laugh out loud.
Ashley and I both reached into our bags at the exact same time—
And pulled out miniature cameras.
We stared at each other.
Then burst into the same grim little smile.
“I went to get a medical statement last night,” Ashley said.
“It proves Sophie brought me drugged drinks multiple times.”
“Luckily I never drank much because I was always controlling my body fat percentage for training. The doctor says there’s still time to flush everything out.”
I held up my phone.
“Funny. I took hair samples from Mom, Dad, and Sophie.”
“The DNA results should be back tomorrow.”
Ashley’s brows lifted.
“Not bad.”
I tucked my phone away.
“On Sophie’s birthday…”
“We’re returning every gift they ever gave us.”
That night, Ashley and I pretended to be asleep in our rooms.
Sometime after midnight, footsteps crept down the hallway.
Our doors opened slightly.
Paused.
Closed.
They thought we were asleep.
They had no idea the phones hidden beneath our blankets were recording everything.
Sophie’s voice came first.
Sharp.
Seething.
“You told me they were basically mine to control.”
“Why are they both suddenly defying me?”
Something shattered, then Mom rushed to stop her.
“Baby, calm down. Just endure it a little longer.”
“Next week is your birthday.”
“Your father and I promised, didn’t we?”
“After that, we’ll get rid of them.”
Dad laughed in a low, sick way.
“We finally made it until they turned eighteen.”
“The life insurance policies are already in place.”
“When they’re gone, that payout will be enough for the three of us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”
My fingers tightened around the blanket.
There it was.
The truth.
Naked.
Ugly.
Mom’s voice dropped into a syrupy coo.
“You’ve suffered all these years, sweetheart.”
“But once they’re gone, you’ll be our only daughter.”
Sophie let out a slow breath, like that finally soothed her.
“Good.”
“Those two were supposed to be dogs you raised for me.”
“Instead they keep biting.”
Her tone turned vicious.
“I’m going to increase the dosage in their drinks.”
“I want both of them ruined.”
I saved the recording in three different places.
Backed it up.
Locked it.
Then I finally closed my eyes.
The night outside was thick and dark.
But dawn was coming.
And this time…
The truth was coming with it.