Chapter 4
The DJ switched from loud party music to a slow song like the universe had been hired.
A spotlight found them.
Khloe looked expensive and delicate at the same time, perfectly styled vulnerability.
“I know you have a girlfriend,” she continued, “but I have to be honest. I like you.”
Liam stared at her, swallowed hard, and you could practically see his resolve wobble.
“Khloe, I—”
She touched a finger to his lips, eyes flicking toward the entrance.
Then her brows knit slightly.
She didn’t see me.
Not even a shadow.
“Don’t answer yet,” she whispered quickly, forcing a fragile smile. “I know you wouldn’t hurt Luna. I’m just jealous of her.”
She glanced again at the door.
Still nothing.
The people around them started chanting anyway, drunk on the moment.
“Say yes!”
“Say yes, Liam!”
“Khloe is way better!”
“Dump the nerd and date the queen!”
Liam’s eyes sharpened under the pressure. He looked like he had decided something.
Khloe smiled, but her fingers tightened on her dress, and a nervous sheen gathered at her hairline.
Because the script was off.
The villain wasn’t showing up.
While the club reached its boiling point, I was lying comfortably on my sofa at home, a blanket over my legs, my notes spread neatly across the coffee table.
Late that night, my parents came home from the office. When they saw me still awake, they looked surprised.
I didn’t waste time.
“Dad,” I said calmly, “I don’t want to sponsor that scholarship student anymore.”
My dad blinked. “Who?”
“The one everyone calls the rich girl,” I said. “Cancel the secondary card I authorized for her tonight.”
He stared at me like I had started speaking another language.
My mother’s brows knit together.
“Luna, what are you talking about? Why would you be paying for Khloe?”
Because she had found out.
In my last life, she had found out who her anonymous sponsor was, and the moment she did, everything became personal.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced the words out cleanly.
“We’ve been sponsoring her,” I said quietly. “Through the program. She’s not rich. She’s been pretending, and she’s been using your money to buy loyalty.”
My mom’s lips parted in shock.
My dad’s face sharpened instantly, in that way it always did when business turned into danger.
“Who told you this?” he asked.
“No one,” I said. “I figured it out. Please, just trust me.”
A beat of silence.
Then my dad nodded once, decisive. He pulled out his phone, stood, and walked toward his office.
My mom came closer, lowering her voice.
“Honey, did something happen at school?”
I wanted to say yes.
I wanted to tell her about the other timeline, about the way the whole class had turned into a single hungry mouth chewing through my life and smiling about it.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I stepped into her arms and held on like the world was trying to take her away again.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I just want to focus on finals. I don’t want drama.”
My mom kissed my hair.
“Then we’ll keep you safe from drama.”
When my dad returned, his jaw was set.
“It’s done,” he said. “Cards frozen. Any charges will decline.”
Relief moved through me like warm water.
I didn’t smile.
Not yet.
Because in my last life, the night didn’t end at the club.
It started there.