Chapter 3

I understood then. I was the scapegoat.

Chad, the golden boy, injured while "heroically" saving his girlfriend.

And me, the housekeeper's son, the convenient fall guy.

Jessica was orchestrating it, trying to push me back into the role of the useful, sacrificing idiot.

Later that day, Chad's older brother and two of his thuggish friends found me near the lake house staff quarters.

"Heard you were slow to act, Evans," the brother sneered. He was bigger than me, with the same arrogant face as Chad.

"My brother's a star athlete. His career could be over because you hesitated."

Before I could say anything, a fist slammed into my stomach.

I doubled over, gasping.

They kicked me, punched me. Pain exploded through my body.

"This is for Chad's knee," one of them grunted, landing a kick to my ribs.

I lay there, tasting blood, the familiar helplessness of my past life trying to creep in.

But this time, something was different. A cold rage burned beneath the pain.

They left me bruised and aching.

As I limped back to my small room, Jessica appeared, feigning concern.

"Mike! Oh my god, what happened to you?"

She reached out, as if to help. I flinched away.

"Don't touch me," I rasped.

Her eyes hardened for a second before the mask of worry returned.

"It was Chad's friends, wasn't it? They're upset. But Mike, you can make this right."

She then produced a small, worn object from her pocket.

My father's dog tags. He was a veteran, died when I was young. It was all I had of him.

She must have swiped them from my room when I was out.

"I found these," she said, her voice soft. "They mean a lot to you, don't they?"

My blood ran cold. She was lower than I ever imagined.

"If you agree to the tissue donation for Chad, help him recover... I'll make sure his family forgives you. And these," she dangled the dog tags, "will be safe."

She smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes. "And maybe, just maybe, we can be together, Mike. I always liked you."

Lies. All lies.

I looked at my father's dog tags, then at her.

"I need to see my mother," I said, my voice hoarse. "If she's okay, if she's safe from any trouble because of this, I'll... consider it."

I needed to buy time. I needed to get Mom out.

She thought she had me. "Of course, Mike. Let's go see Maria."

She led me towards the main house, her hand possessively on my arm.

I endured the pain, my mind racing.

This was her game, her control.

But she didn't know my mind was clear now, free of her poison.

She didn't know I remembered everything.