The 5 Million Dollar Bet

My body bobs in the chlorinated water. Bloated. Pale. A grotesque buoy in the high school pool.

Xavier and Isaac stand on the tiled edge. Looking down at me.

There is no horror on their faces. Only the mild disappointment of a cancelled show.

Total buzzkill, Xavier kicks at the water, sending a ripple toward my lifeless face. "We weren't even done playing. She broke already?"

"Clean it up." Isaacs voice is ice. He isn't looking at my body. He is staring at his phone screen, watching the livestream revenue tick upward. "Let's call the bet a draw."

A draw.

My heart. My life. My parents, driven to their graves.

To them, it was just a game. A way to pass the time.

A scream builds in my dead throat, silent and corrosive. The hatred is a physical force. It twists inside my chest, a black hole opening up, dragging me backward.

Gravity reverses. The water vanishes.

Air.

I slam into solid ground.

My lungs heave. The smell of chlorine is gone, replaced by expensive cologne and stale locker room air.

And then, the voice. The voice of the devil himself.

"Hey, charity case. Heard you aced the midterms again?"

Chapter 1

I am cornered in the stairwell.

Xavier leans over me. He is too close. He smells like tobacco and arrogance. His eyes scan me, predator to prey.

"Well? You deaf, Violet?"

Xavier. The sole heir to the Shao dynasty. Old Money. The kind of wealth that buys buildings, silence, and senators. His family is the biggest donor to Inness Academy.

In my last life, this was the beginning of the end.

He wanted me to cheat for him. I refused. He flunked, and his father, Richard, cut off his allowance and humiliated him. Xavier blamed me.

He usually settles things with his fists. But he doesn't hit girls. Thats beneath him. So, he got creative. A prank.

He made a bet with his best friend, Isaac. Who could break the poor scholarship girl first? Who could make the "uptight nerd" fall in love? Isaac, the tech genius, hacked the school's security cameras. They turned my life into a reality show. A private livestream for the entire school to watch on a hidden forum.

To make it interesting, Xavier opened a betting pool. The students placed wagers. Real money. The bet: Who would I kiss first? The exact date. The exact time. The winner would take the entire pot of donations.

Xavier, the reckless bad boy. Isaac, the cold, intellectual prince. And millions of dollars in the prize pool.

The whole school watched. They laughed. They ate popcorn while I fell in love. I was seventeen. I was naive. I never stood a chance against two wealthy, devastatingly attractive boys deploying weaponized romance tactics.

I chose Isaac. I said yes to his confession.

And Xavier, the sore loser, snapped.

He cornered me and ripped the curtain down. "You didn't think this was real, did you?" He laughed in my face. "It's a game, Violet. We're streaming this."

He shoved his phone at me. The comments were scrolling so fast they blurred. "Look at you. You think guys like us would actually date a trailer park tragedy like you? You're a narcissist."

The school didn't just laugh. They destroyed me.

My initial rejection of them? "Playing hard to get." My confusion? "Bad acting." My eventual feelings? "Desperate gold digger."

I became the punchline.

My grades cratered. I fell out of the top fifty. The school cut my scholarship. My parents tried to save me. They took extra shifts, drove overnight deliveries to pay my tuition.

They died on a rainy highway. A semi-truck crushed their sedan.

Grief and debt swallowed me whole. I wandered to the pool that winter, in a daze, broken. I slipped. I drowned.

The school called it "academic stress." They issued a generic statement about "tragedy," hushed it up, and moved on.

Xavier was sent to Europe to "recover from the shock." He spent the next decade partying, dating a string of girls who looked vaguely like me.

And Isaac? He inherited his familys tech empire. He became a philanthropist. He donated millions to rural schools. He married a woman from a humble background.

At his wedding, he toasted his bride. He looked at her with soft, lying eyes and said she reminded him of his "first love." The one that got away.

Chapter 2

"Hello? Violet? Are you deaf?"

A hand waves in front of my face. Large. Calloused.

Xavier.

He leans against the locker, invading my personal space. His features are sharp, aggressive. He looks at me the way a wolf looks at a wounded deer.

I know exactly what is happening.

The livestream is live.

Somewhere on the hidden Inness Academy forum, the comments are scrolling like a waterfall.

[User_01]: Wait, both the Prince and the Bad Boy are chasing the scholarship kid? Is this a fanfic?

[RichB!tch]: Im betting a weeks allowance on Isaac. Nobody says no to the Ice Prince.

[ShaoFanGirl]: Nah, Xavier all the way. I love a toxic king. Simping hard.

Xavier takes a deep breath, his patience visibly thinning. "I said," he repeats, enunciating every syllable like Im an idiot. "Im giving you a chance to make some serious cash. I know you people you know, from the boonies are desperate for money."

He flashes a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Come to my mansion. Tutor me. One thousand dollars a session. How about it?"

One thousand dollars. Thats two months of rent for my family.

I keep my head down. My eyes flick briefly, imperceptibly, to the corner of the stairwell ceiling. The red LED of the security camera blinks once.

I shrink back, clutching my textbooks to my chest. "Xavier," I whisper, making sure my voice trembles just enough for the microphone to pick it up. "Thank you for the offer. But I already have plans this weekend."

The Weekend.

I walk out of the academys iron gates. I pass a reflective glass window and stop. I catch my reflection.

Skinny. Pale. My face is washed out, almost invisible. My oversized uniform swallows my frame. The only thing I have going for me are my eyes, currently hidden behind thick, black plastic frames.

I could take them off right now. I could style my hair, put on some makeup, and stun them all. The classic "She's All That" reveal.

But I dont.

A voluntary transformation is cheap. Its desperate.

I need them to discover me. I need them to think they dug me out of the dirt. That kind of obsession hits harder. It lasts longer.

I know how this game works. Even if I dodged the tutoring trap, Xavier and Isaac won't stop. They are bored gods in a playground they own. I can't fight them with money or power.

But this time, I know the script.

They want a show?

Fine. Ill give them an Oscar-worthy performance.

I lower my gaze and head toward the flower shop.

Inness Academy is filled with nepo babies and trust fund kids. To keep their academic ranking legitimate, they import "merit scholars" like me. We are the curve-breakers. The diversity statistics.

The deal is simple: Stay in the top ten, and tuition is free. Plus a five-thousand-dollar monthly stipend. I haven't dropped from the number one spot since the day I arrived.

I send every penny of the scholarship home to my parents. For my own food and rent, I work.

The Flower Shop.

Before I even push the glass door open, I hear Wendys voice. She sounds ecstatic. "Violet! Get in here! We just landed a whale!"

Wendy is beaming. Her face, usually tired and drawn, is flushed with adrenaline. She shoves her phone in my face.

Order: 9,999 Pink Floyd Roses.

Origin: Ecuador. Exhibition Grade Only.

Delivery: ASAP.

"This order alone is going to net us five figures," Wendy says, her hands shaking slightly. "This changes everything."

I stare at the screen. My blood runs cold.

In my last life, this was Xaviers retaliation.

Because I refused to tutor him, he decided to crush my side hustle. He ordered nearly ten thousand imported roses. The most expensive variety on the market.

Wendy and I spent three days and nights running across the city, begging wholesalers, emptying our savings to cover the deposit and shipping costs. We worked until our fingers bled from the thorns.

And when we finally delivered them?

Xavier looked at the mountain of flowers, yawned, and said, "Boring. I don't want them anymore."

The Shao family is untouchable. Wendy had no contract strong enough to sue them. She ate the loss.

The debt destroyed her.

She had opened this shop to escape Randy, her abusive, alcoholic husband. She was trying to build a safe harbor. After the rose incident, she went bankrupt. She had to close the shop. She had to go back to Randy.

I look at Wendys hopeful eyes. "Wendy," I say, my voice low. "Something isn't right. Don't order the stock yet."

She blinks, confused. "What? Violet, this is a fortune. We can't"

"Just trust me," I interrupt, gripping her arm. "Please. Stall the order. Just for a few days."

In her eyes, I see the hesitation. But she trusts me. Reluctantly, she puts the phone down. "Okay," she sighs. "I'll wait."

The trap is set. Now, I just have to wait for the hunter to come check his snare.

Chapter 3

Seeing my mood darken, Wendy looks concerned. "Violet, honey, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, feigning anxiety. "Wendy, that order. It feels off. Please, don't buy the stock yet. Just wait."

She hesitates, looking at the potential profit. But I insist. She trusts me. She agrees to stall.

For the next week, I disappear.

I stop going to the library. I skip the cafeteria. As soon as the bell rings, I vanish into my dorm room.

Xavier can't find me. He can't corner me. The "game" has barely started, and already, the target is missing. I can feel his irritation radiating through the campus. He is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.

He is losing patience.

Just as I predicted, he can't sit still.

Saturday.

Wendy is taking a nap in the storage room. I am alone, manning the front.

I finish a calculus problem and look up. Through the glass display window, I see a figure stalk past. Tall. Arrogant stride.

Xavier.

Hes checking on his prey. The timing is perfect.

On the counter, Wendys cell phone starts to buzz. I dont hesitate. I pick it up.

Ten minutes later.

The front door explodes open. Bang.

A man barrels into the shop. Heavy boots. Beer gut straining against a stained shirt.

Randy.

He kicks a display of lilies aside. "Where is she? Where is that bitch Wendy?!"

The noise wakes Wendy. She stumbles out of the back room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She sees him. Her face goes gray. Terror, pure and primal, floods her eyes. "You how did you find me?"

Randy snorts. He steps forward, his hand reaching out to grab her hair.

I throw myself between them. "Who are you?" I scream, spreading my arms to shield Wendy. "What do you think you're doing?"

Randy sneers. He looks at me like Im a bug hes about to crush. "Who am I? I'm her husband. I own her. I beat my own wife whenever I feel like it. Thats my right. Move, little girl. Or I'll drop you too."

My body is shaking. Its a physiological response to the adrenaline, the proximity of violence. But I force my voice to be loud. Piercing. "Domestic battery is a felony! Leave now or I am calling the cops!"

Randy laughs. Its a wet, ugly sound. "Cops?"

He swings his arm. A heavy, dismissive backhand.

It connects.

I fly backward. I slam onto the hard tile floor. My glasses skitter across the linoleum. My knee cracks against the metal door threshold.

White-hot pain shoots up my leg. I scream. I curl into a ball, clutching my knee, gasping for air. I duck my head, hiding my face in my chest.

Hidden by the curtain of my hair, my lips curve up.

A smile.

I didn't make a mistake. That shadow outside was Xavier.

I know about his tech. The livestream camera pinned to his designer collar isn't a toy. Its military-grade. 4K video. High-fidelity audio. Every word Randy just said. The sound of the slap. My scream.

It was all broadcasted.

Xavier heard it. The audience heard it.

I know Xavier. He is a bully, yes. But he is also a teenage boy with an ego the size of the city. He views himself as the protagonist. He has a savior complex.

Impulsive. Violent. Heroic.

The stage is set. The villain is here. The damsel is broken.

Enter the hero.

Chapter 4

And there he is.

Long legs clear the threshold.

Xavier doesn't hesitate. He doesn't ask questions. He launches himself at Randy like a missile. Before anyone can blink, they are a tangle of limbs crashing into the floral display.

Somewhere in the cloud, the private forum is melting down.

[User_X]: OH MY GOD. MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY.

[Simp4Xavier]: He didn't even think about it! He just went in! Daddy!

[BetKing]: Putting my mortgage on Xavier right now.

[Admin]: Jackpot Update: 0-0.74 Million. Place your bets.

Xavier has training. Expensive private lessons in Krav Maga and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. He lands a solid jab to Randys jaw.

But weight classes exist for a reason.

Randy is a wall of beer-soaked fat and rage. He absorbs the hit. He uses his mass like a weapon. He tackles Xavier.

They hit the floor. The sound of bone on tile is sickening. Randy uses his sheer bulk to pin Xavier down. He clamps his meaty hands around Xaviers throat.

The air leaves the room.

"You want to be a hero?" Randy spits. Saliva lands on Xaviers face. "You sleeping with my wife, you little rich prick?"

Xavier thrashes. He claws at Randys wrists. But the grip is iron. Xaviers face turns a dark, mottled red. The veins in his forehead bulge. His eyes roll back, searching for oxygen that isn't there.

He is going to pass out. Maybe die.

I move.

I grab a heavy crystal vase from the counter. Its cold. Solid. I step forward. I raise it high.

I bring it down.

CRASH.

The sound of thick glass meeting the base of a skull.

Randy freezes. His eyes lose focus. He slumps sideways. A mountain of flesh collapsing.

Xavier sucks in a desperate, jagged breath. He coughs, gagging, and kicks the unconscious body away from him. He scrambles backward, sitting up, wiping the spit from his face. He looks up.

His amber eyes widen.

He sees me.

I am standing over him, backlit by the afternoon sun. My hands are still raised, gripping the jagged remains of the vase. I am trembling. Violent shivers that rack my entire frame. Tears are streaming down my face, silent and fast.

"You" Xavier croaks.

The vase slips from my numb fingers. It shatters on the floor.

My adrenaline crashes. My injured knee gives out. I fall forward.

I don't hit the ground.

Xavier lunges. He catches me.

I collapse into his chest.

I can feel it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heart is hammering against his ribs like a war drum. Its chaotic. Fast. Alive.

The Suspension Bridge Effect.

Psychology 101. When the brain experiences high anxiety or fear, it floods the body with adrenaline. If you are with someone attractive during that spike, the brain misinterprets the fear as intense sexual attraction.

I didn't just hope for this. I engineered it.

The reckless boy plays hero. The hero fails. The damsel saves the hero.

I rehearsed this scene in my head a thousand times. Every tear. Every tremor.

I bury my face in his designer shirt. I let my body shake against his. I feed off his racing heart. "I was so scared," I sob, my voice muffled against his chest.

Xavier is frozen. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. He hovers them over my back, then awkwardly, gently, pats my shoulder. "Hey," he whispers. His voice is rough, damaged from the strangulation. "It's okay. Don't don't cry. I've got you."

Chapter 5

RandyWendys husbandgets hauled off in the back of a squad car. Assault and battery.

Usually, domestic violence charges are a joke. A slap on the wrist, a night in the drunk tank, and they are back on the street. But Randy made a fatal error. He put his hands on Xavier.

Xavier is petty. He is vindictive. And his family owns the judges. Randy isn't seeing sunlight anytime soon.

Wendy is practically worshipping Xavier. She keeps calling him a "stand-up young man" and a "hero."

Xavier, the school tyrant, looks like he swallowed a bug. He is used to fear, not gratitude. He scratches the bridge of his nose, looking everywhere but at Wendy. A suspicious flush creeps up his neck.

"Whatever," he mutters, avoiding eye contact. "I just came to check on Violet. Total coincidence. I was in the neighborhood anyway."

"Thank you," I say. "Really. To repay you I'll agree to tutor you. Weekends."

Xaviers head snaps up. He tries to look bored, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Fine," he says, regaining his arrogance. "Next Saturday. 3 PM. My estate. And do me a favor? Leave the glasses at home. They're hideous."

Saturday. The Shao Estate.

We are in the library. The ceilings are twenty feet high. The shelves are lined with books nobody has ever opened.

I am teaching Xavier calculus.

In my last life, this was the breaking point. I agreed to tutor him, found out he destroyed the flower shop, and we had a screaming match that ended with me storming out.

This time, I am all business.

I explain the chain rule. Xavier looks like his brain is melting. He is chewing on the end of his pen, staring blankly at the first problem on the worksheet. His eyes are glazed over.

The hidden livestream must be having a field day.

User_1: [LMAO look at his face. He regrets everything.]

User_2: [He tried to use a pick-up line five minutes ago and she just hit him with a quadratic formula. Ice cold.]

User_3: [Okay but Violet is actually a good teacher? I'm finally understanding derivatives.]

I glance at the heavy oak door. Its cracked open an inch. A phone lens is visible.

Albert, the elderly butler, is crouching in the hallway. I can hear his frantic, hushed whispers. "Mr. Shao! Mrs. Shao! Its a miracle! Xavier is he's doing math! Actual math!"

I suppress a sigh.

I look back at Xavier. His head is bobbing. He is seconds away from a coma. "Thats enough for today," I say, closing the textbook.

Xavier jerks awake. He blinks, looking disoriented. "Oh. Right. Totally. I get it now Wait. We're done?"

I nod. "Your foundation is non-existent. We need to take baby steps."

Xavier slumps back in his chair. He looks like a man who just survived a plane crash. Pure relief.

I stand up to pack my bag. Then, I pause. I reach into my backpack and pull it out.

A single stem. A Pink Floyd Rose. Hot pink, vibrant, velvet-soft.

I hold it out to him.

Xavier freezes. He stares at the flower like its a grenade. "You" He swallows. "You bought me a flower?"

I nod, keeping my face neutral. "Wendy had a client cancel a massive order last minute. They paid a huge breach-of-contract fee. She gave me a bonus."

I lie effortlessly.

"I used the bonus to buy this for you. Thank you for helping us."

Xavier stares at me. His expression is a war zoneconfusion, shock, and something softer.

I raise an eyebrow. "If you don't want it, I can"

Xavier moves. Fast.

He snatches the rose out of my hand before I can pull it back. "Who said I didn't want it?" he snaps, gripping the stem a little too tightly.

Chapter 6

I step out of the villa into a world on fire.

The sun is sinking, bleeding orange and violet across the horizon. In the paddock, a silhouette cuts through the golden haze. A rider.

Isaac.

He spots me. He pulls the reins, guiding the beast toward me with an effortless shift of his weight. He looks like he walked out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Pristine white breeches, high leather boots, a posture that screams disciplined elegance.

The Qi family isn't Old Money like the Shaos. They are Tech Royalty. New Money, but polished to a mirror shine.

Isaac is the perfect gentleman. The "Ice Prince." The faculty loves him. The students worship him.

In my last life, that mask fooled me completely.

I said yes to him. I thought he was my savior from Xaviers chaos. Then the curtain fell.

I remember his face on his wedding day, years later. He held a champagne flute, smiling at his new bridea simple girl from the countryside. He looked at me, standing in the shadows of the reception, and whispered the truth.

"You know, Violet, I only noticed you because you look like her. My childhood friend."

His eyes were soft, but his words were razor blades. "But shes pure. Untouched. You? Youre just a cheap knockoff. Easy to get, easy to discard. Grades don't change your price tag."

Xavier is cruel because hes a child. Isaac is cruel because he enjoys it.

Now, under the dying sun, Isaac brings the horse to a halt in front of me. He looks down. "Thanks for helping Xavier," he says. His voice is smooth, like velvet over steel. "He can be a lot. I appreciate you tolerating him."

I tilt my head back. I lock eyes with him. "By 'tolerating him,' do you mean surviving his temper?"

Isaac blinks. The mask slips for a fraction of a second, then the polite smile returns. "Thats not what I meant."

Suddenly, the horsea massive chestnut geldingsnorts. It lowers its head and nuzzles my palm, huffing warm air against my skin.

Isaac raises his eyebrows. "Thats strange. Apollo is a Hanoverian. Hes usually temperamental. He hates strangers." He smiles, a calculated warmth reaching his eyes. "He likes you."

Inside, I scoff.

Hanoverians. They are bred for dressage. They are famous for being calm, obedient, and bomb-proof. "Temperamental" is a lie.

I know what hes doing.

Xavier is a battering ram; he smashes through defenses. Isaac is a sniper. He creates "special moments." He manufactures destiny. Look, even the difficult animal chooses you. You are special.

In my last life, this was step one. Lower the target's guard.

He leans down from the saddle. He extends a gloved hand toward me. The dying light catches his hair, turning it into a halo. "Violet," he says softly. "Join me? Let's go for a ride."

The romantic setting. The handsome prince. The outstretched hand.

He is betting on the atmosphere. He is betting I can't refuse the fairytale.

He loses.

In the past, he pulled me up. He rode fast, letting the adrenaline of the gallop trick my brain into feeling attraction.

Today, I stare at his gloved hand. I don't move.

"What is that?" I ask.

My voice cuts through the romantic tension like a knife.

Isaac freezes. A flicker of annoyance passes through his eyes. I ruined the moment. He pulls his hand back. He follows my gaze to his lapel.

"This?"

He unclips a small, intricate pin. A Black Iris. He holds it out to me.

I stare at the flower. Specifically, at the center of the petals.

I know what it is.

A micro-lens. The livestream camera.

Isaac is terrifying. He doesn't just hide the camera; he dangles it right in my face. He gets off on the risk.

Somewhere on the server, the chat is hyperventilating.

[User_77]: Is she is she looking at us?

[ParanoidAndroid]: No way. The lens is hidden in the design. It's impossible.

[RichKid_Blues]: Dude, I swear shes looking right into my soul. Im scared. Sending a donation just to be safe.

"Do you like it?" Isaac asks, his voice light, teasing. "If you want it, it's yours."

I look from the pin to his eyes. I smile. Its sharp.

"No thanks," I say.

I turn away, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "I don't like the meaning of the Black Iris."

Chapter 7

Isaac insists on driving me back.

Technically, the campus is only a ten-minute drive from the Shao estate. But there are no bus lines out here in the hills, and Uber drivers rarely accept pickups from these gated fortresses.

I look at the vehicle idling in the driveway. A Lamborghini Revuelto. Matte black. A V12 hybrid beast that costs more than my parents lifetime earnings combined.

"You're a minor," I say, eyeing the low chassis. "You can't drive this legally."

Isaac leans against the doorframe, twirling a key fob. He flashes a smile that is practiced, polished, and entirely fake. He produces a license. International.

"Got it in Europe over the summer," he says smoothly. "So, Violet. Do I have the honor?"

The drive is suffocating.

I sit in the passenger seat of the hypercar. The leather smells like money. The engine roars behind my head, a constant, vibrating reminder of the power at his fingertips.

I ignore him. I pull out my flashcards. Vocabulary. SAT Prep. Calculus formulas. I flip through them, staring at the ink, refusing to look at the boy driving at illegal speeds next to me.

The hidden forum is scrolling fast.

[IceIceBaby]: Look at him driving with one hand. Im dead. Hes so hot.

[Hater_101]: Shes studying? In a Lambo? What a try-hard. No manners.

[CarGuy]: Forget the girl. Listen to that exhaust note. Pure music.

[DramaQueen]: She's playing hard to get. Its so obvious. Who ignores Isaac Qi?

The car eats the asphalt. The scenery blurs. In minutes, we are idling at the academy curb.

I reach for the handle.

Click.

The lock engages. The door won't budge.

I frown. I turn to look at Isaac. He is tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, looking at me with amusement.

"So, Violet," he says, his voice low, playful. "How do you plan to pay the fare?"

Its a game. A power move. He wants me to beg, or flirt, or panic.

I don't blink.

I reach into my worn canvas bag. I dig around until I find them. Two crumpled twenty-dollar bills. I smooth them out against my jeans, trying to flatten the creases. I hold them out to him.

"Keep the change," I say. My voice is deadpan. "I don't need a receipt."

Isaac looks at the dirty money. Then he laughs. His eyes crinkle, creating the perfect image of a charming boy. "That's cute. Really. But you know I don't need your money."

He doesn't unlock the door.

We sit in silence. The air conditioning hums. The tension thickens, heavy and electric.

I tilt my head. I narrow my eyes, studying his face as if Im trying to solve a puzzle. "You know" I start slowly. "We have we met before?"

Isaac stops tapping the wheel. He turns to face me fully.

"Actually," I continue, my voice softening, "you look exactly like a boy I grew up with. My childhood sweetheart."

The livestream chat explodes.

[CringeFactory]: BOOOOO. That is the oldest line in the book.

[PickMe Alert]: Did she just use the 'you look like someone I know' line on THE Isaac Qi? This girl watches too many K-Dramas.

[Observer]: Wait. Isaac stopped smiling.

Isaac stares at me. A flicker of hesitation crosses his face. He is calculating. Searching his memory.

I smile.

Its a sweet smile. Innocent.

And then I twist the knife.

"But then again probably not."

I look him up and down, my gaze lingering on the locked door button.

"He was pure. He was kind. He would never lock a girl in his car just to mess with her head."

Chapter 8

I step out of the car. The lock clicks open the moment we hit the curb.

I lean back in. I shove the two crumpled twenty-dollar bills through the open window, right onto the leather passenger seat. "I said keep the change," I smile. "Buy yourself some manners."

The window rolls up. The Lamborghini revsa deep, angry snarland peels away from the curb. Tires screech. Smoke rises.

I watch the taillights disappear into the night. My smile vanishes instantly.

In my previous life, at Isaacs wedding, he gave a toast. He looked at his bride and told the room she reminded him of his "childhood sweetheart." His first love.

I am poor. I grew up in a rental apartment with peeling wallpaper. Isaac grew up in a gated fortress. We were never childhood friends.

That leaves one logical conclusion.

Isaac has a "phantom ex"a first love he never got over. And I happen to look exactly like her.

I decided to use it.

I am stealing her identity.

Isaac is paranoid. He is a thinker. Over-analyzer. If I give him a vague, incomplete puzzle piece, he won't be able to let it go. He will dig. He will investigate. He will obsess.

And in that process, he will be thinking about me. Every. Single. Day.

Psychology calls it the Mere Exposure Effect. The more you are exposed to a stimulus, the more you gravitate toward it.

I learned these tricks from him. The Isaac from my past life was a master manipulator.

Now, Im the one pulling the strings.

The months blur.

Fall turns to winter. The days get shorter. The air turns biting cold.

My life is a loop. Classroom. Library. Cafeteria.

Weekends are for the flower shop. And Xavier.

Every Saturday, I go to the Shao estate. And every Saturday, I bring a single Pink Floyd Rose.

At first, Xavier was awkward about it. Then, he started expecting it. Pavlovian conditioning.

I don't slack off on the tutoring. I dissect every formula, every historical date. I force knowledge into his stubborn skull.

In the past, they said I was "ungrateful" and "fake." They said I cheated my way to the top.

Not this time. I am bulletproof.

Finals week approaches.

The Shao Estate.

Xavier sits at the mahogany desk. He looks like a man on death row waiting for the governor's call. He is bouncing his leg nervously. "Well?" he asks. "Did I bomb it?"

I cap my red pen. I slide the practice exam across the desk. "You got a 63," I say. "It's an improvement."

Xavier stares at the number. Then he jumps up, knocking his chair over. "A 63? I passed! I actually passed!"

Pop.

A confetti cannon explodes in the doorway.

Albert, the butler, stands there holding a spent party popper, wiping a tear from his eye. "Bravo, Master Xavier! Bravo!"

Xavier is running on pure dopamine. He lunges at me. He grabs me by the waist. He lifts me off the ground effortlessly. "Im a genius!" he shouts.

He spins me around.

The room blurs. My feet dangle. I can feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his chest.

"Xavier!" I gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance. "Put me down!"

I bite my lip. I decide not to tell him that this specific practice exam was graded out of 150 points. That 63 is a spectacular F-minus.

Let him have his moment.

"Put me down or you don't get the flower!" I yell.

The threat works instantly.

He stops spinning. He sets me down gently, smoothing out my uniform collar. He looks at me with wide, expectant eyes. A golden retriever waiting for a treat. "I'm down. I'm good," he says. "Where is it? Wheres my prize?"

I glare at him, fixing my glasses. I reach into my bag and pull out the hot pink rose. I hand it to him.

Xavier takes it. He twirls the stem between his fingers. Then, the innocent look evaporates. The smirk returns. Dangerous. Arrogant.

"You're too easy," he grins, leaning in close. "I was lying. I'm going to do it again next time."

I stare at him.

Psycho.

Chapter 9

Finals are looming. I am drowning in coursework.

The Library.

I am reviewing organic chemistry when a finger pokes my shoulder.

I look up.

Tara.

She is a scholarship kid like me. Short bob, round face, perpetual blush. She is holding a pastel pink envelope with both hands. "Violet," she whispers. "Can you do me a huge favor? Can you give this to Isaac?"

I frown. I don't take it.

In my last life, Tara was one of the few who stayed clean. She didn't participate in the livestream. She didn't bet. After I died, she found out the truth. She wrote a whistleblower letter to the school board. Isaacs family intercepted it before it even left the post office. She was expelled silently.

She is good. Isaac is a viper.

I stare at her. "No."

Tara blinks. She looks hurt. "Why? You see him every weekend. He drives you home."

"I can't help you, Tara."

"Why?" Her voice pitches up. "Do you like him or something?"

The library goes silent.

Heads turn. I can feel the weight of a dozen stares.

I glance at the ceiling. A dome camera is rotating silently above the reference section.

I look back at Tara. I want to tell her to run. I want to tell her Isaac will chew her up and spit her out for sport. But I can't. The microphone is live.

I shake my head. "It's not that. Just no."

Tara bites her lip. She stomps her foot. She shoves the pink envelope into my hands. "If you don't like him, then just be a friend and help me! Thanks, Violet!"

She turns and sprints away before I can shove it back.

I sit there, frozen. My fingers crinkle the scented paper.

The aftermath of the "Love Letter Incident" is immediate.

Xavier goes dark.

Usually, my phone buzzes fifty times a day. Memes. Math questions he definitely knows the answer to. Random complaints about the cafeteria food.

Now? Silence.

It has been a week. I focus on my exams. I tell myself I enjoy the peace.

But the livestream chatwhich I can feel but not seeis probably mourning the death of their favorite ship.

User_1: [RIP. The ship has sunk. Xavier is definitely ghosting her.]

User_2: [She deserves it. Giving a love letter to his best friend? Thats messy. Shes playing both sides.]

User_3: [I just dropped a Galaxy on this couple. I want a refund.]

Saturday. 3:00 PM.

I stand in front of the massive oak doors of the Shao Estate. I ring the bell.

Nothing.

I wait two minutes. I ring again.

Silence.

I pull out my phone. I type a message.

I'm here for the session.

Send.

Status: Not Delivered.

I stare at the screen. He blocked me. I frown. I press the doorbell one more time. Long and hard.

Ten minutes pass. The winter wind is biting through my coat.

I get it. Im not welcome.

I turn around. I take two steps down the driveway.

Click.

The heavy lock disengages. The door swings open.

"Get in."

The voice is cold.

I walk inside.

The living room is dark. The curtains are drawn. Xavier is sprawled on the leather sofa. He isn't looking at me. He is aggressively mashing buttons on a controller, staring at the 80-inch TV screen.

He is playing a shooter game. The volume is deafening.

I stand there, clutching my bag. "Xavier?"

He ignores me. He finishes the round. Game Over. He tosses the controller onto the coffee table. It clatters loudly.

Finally, he looks up.

His eyes are dark. There are bags under them. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. "You actually came," he sneers. "I thought you were never going to explain yourself."

Chapter 10

"Explain what?" I ask, feigning confusion. "I'm here to work. Open your textbook."

"Work?" Xavier laughs. It is a sharp, jagged sound. "We haven't spoken in a week. And you think you can just waltz in here and talk about calculus?"

He drops the controller. It clatters against the glass table. He stands up. He crosses the room in two strides. He grips my wrist. His fingers are like iron bands. "Come with me."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He drags me toward the stairs. I stumble, barely keeping my footing as he hauls me up to the second floor.

He shoves me into the study.

Slam.

The heavy door echoes like a gunshot.

I stumble backward. Before I can speak, Xavier sweeps his arm across the massive mahogany desk.

Crash.

Books, papers, an expensive lampeverything goes flying. The sound of shattering glass fills the room.

In the middle of the wreckage, Xavier grabs me by the waist. He lifts me effortlessly and deposits me onto the edge of the desk.

I am sitting on hard wood, surrounded by debris. My blood starts to boil. "Xavier! Have you lost your mind?"

He doesn't stop. He steps between my knees. He plants his hands on the desk on either side of my hips, caging me in. He leans forward. His cologne is overwhelming. Musk and aggression.

I lean back, my spine twisting away from him. "Xavier, what the hell are you"

He cuts me off.

His hand shoots up. He grips my jaw, squeezing my cheeks.

He crashes his lips onto mine.

It isn't a kiss. It is a bite. It is punishment. It is territorial.

My survival instinct kicks in.

I wrench my hand free. I swing.

Crack.

My palm connects with his cheek. The sound is sharp, piercing the silence of the room.

I am breathing hard. My hand stings.

Xavier freezes. He slowly turns his head back to look at me. His eyes are terrifying. Cold fire.

"Tell me," he growls, articulating every word. "Why did you throw away the love letter for Isaac?"

I inhale sharply. The air in the room feels thin.

"Xavier," I say, forcing my voice to be steady. "This is a transaction. You pay me. I sell you my time and my knowledge. I am your employee. I don't owe you explanations about my personal life."

Xavier stares at me. A second passes. Then two. He scoffs. "Employee? Is that it?"

He leans closer, his nose brushing mine. "You bring me a Pink Floyd Rose every single week. Is that part of the contract? Is that just business?"

I lock eyes with him. I don't blink. "As you wish," I say coldly. "I didn't bring flowers today."

Xaviers eyes narrow. Dangerous slits. "What?"

"I said, I didn't bring one. The flower is a reward. A bonus. Since you don't want it, there is no flower today. And there won't be one in the future."

The subtext hangs in the air: I am done with you.

Xavier stares at me. He is searching my face, desperate to find a crack in the armor. He wants to see anger. He wants to see jealousy.

He sees nothing but a frozen lake.

His expression darkens. The hurt in his eyes hardens into cruelty.

"So it really is just about the cash," he sneers. "I guess everything has a price tag with you people. Thats fine. I have millions. You scholarship kids you really think you're special? You aren't even worth as much as the horses in my stable."

SMACK.

I put my entire body weight into it this time.

My hand connects with the side of his face with a sickening thud.

Xaviers head snaps to the side.

He stands there, head bowed. A vein in his temple is throbbing. His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white.

He is trembling with rage. A ticking time bomb.

Chapter 11