Chapter 2

To hide the fact that I was also reborn, to keep him from suspecting I knew his deadly potential, I had to play a part. "Ethan," I began, forcing a quiver into my voice, "Northwood is such a huge opportunity. For both of us. Are you sure about this?" I let a tear escape, a performance worthy of an Oscar. Tiffany, predictably, bristled.

Her eyes narrowed at me. "He just said he wants to be with me, Sarah. Can't you respect that?" She stepped closer to Ethan, possessively linking her arm through his. "Some things are more important than fancy colleges." She was already marking her territory, pushing me out.

I just looked at Ethan, feigning heartbreak. "I guess so," I whispered. Internally, I scoffed. They were both fools, locked in their own little drama, completely oblivious to the real stakes. Let them have their factory romance. I had a future to build, a life to reclaim.

A few days later, my Northwood acceptance letter vanished. My actual, physical letter. I searched my room, my bag, everywhere. Gone. My heart hammered against my ribs.

There was only one person who would do this, one person who, despite his grand declarations about Tiffany, couldn't stand the thought of me succeeding without him, or worse, leaving him behind. Ethan. He wanted to keep me close, under his thumb, even as he pursued Tiffany.

I found him at his house, Tiffany perched on his lap on the porch swing. "Ethan," I said, keeping my voice even, "have you seen my Northwood letter?"

He feigned surprise. "Your letter? Why would I have seen it?" Tiffany giggled. "Maybe you lost it, Sarah. You're always so scatterbrained."

I ignored her. I looked straight at Ethan. "It's strange, it just disappeared."

Then, the idea struck me, a risky, manipulative ploy, but necessary.

"You know, Ethan," I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "if I go to Northwood and get a really good job, make a lot of money... I could help you and Tiffany out. You know, financially."

I dangled the bait, appealing directly to his greed and his lazy assumption that I'd always be there to fall back on.

I pretended to be devastated by the lost letter, wringing my hands. "Oh, what will I do? I can't go without it." I made sure he saw the tears welling in my eyes again. "I was so hoping to go, and then I could support you both. Maybe even buy you a nice little house one day."

Ethan's eyes lit up, just as I knew they would. He still believed I was hopelessly in love with him, that I'd do anything for him, even bankroll his life with Tiffany. His ego was a gaping maw, easily fed.

The next day, Ethan "found" my letter. It was crumpled and torn at the edges, stuffed carelessly into my mailbox.

"Look what I found, Sarah," he said, a triumphant smirk on his face. "It must have blown away. Good thing I spotted it." He handed it over, but not before adding, "So, about that financial support... you won't forget your old friends when you're rich and famous, right? We'll need a written agreement, a stake in your future success."

He actually believed he'd outsmarted me, secured his future leeching.