Chapter 2

Jake stared at me, his brow furrowed with suspicion. "That' s it? You' re just going to let it go?"

I gave a small, indifferent shrug, clutching my acceptance letter. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my face was a mask of calm. "It' s your life. Your decision."

"Right," he said, though he still looked unconvinced. He thought I' d fight, argue, maybe even cry. My easy capitulation clearly bothered him more than my protests would have.

Noah, ever the follower, chimed in. "We just think it' s the right thing to do, Chloe. Emily has had it so tough. She doesn' t have the kind of support system you do. We can' t abandon her." His voice was laced with a kind of self-important sincerity, as if he were making a noble sacrifice.

It was a performance. They were painting their infatuation as chivalry.

As he spoke, the air shimmered again. I braced myself.

"In the original plot, the male leads explain their noble intentions, but the selfish supporting character throws a tantrum, accusing them of betrayal. This further solidifies her villainous role and pushes them closer to the pure and kind female lead."

I felt a surge of cold fury. Selfish? I was the selfish one? After everything my family had done for them?

Another line of text appeared, this one even more chilling.

"Continuing on this path, the supporting character is publicly humiliated at the academy's orientation, loses her family' s financial support after being framed for plagiarism by the male leads, and ultimately ends up destitute and alone, watching from the sidelines as the main characters achieve fame and happiness."

My hands trembled slightly. This wasn't just about a fall down the stairs anymore. It was about the complete and utter destruction of my life. This "plot" intended to strip me of everything. My art, my family, my future. All to make way for them and their precious Emily.

The pain of their betrayal was a sharp, physical ache in my chest. I remembered all the years. My dad paying for their prep school tuition when their own parents couldn't. My mom packing them lunches for school right alongside mine. Me, sharing my expensive, imported art supplies that I had saved up for, because they couldn't afford them.

We weren't just friends. We were supposed to be family.

Jake seemed to sense my inner turmoil, but he misinterpreted it completely. He saw it as weakness, an opportunity.

"Look, Chloe," he said, his voice softening into a manipulative purr. "We know this is hard for you to understand. But we' ll still be around. In fact, now that we' re not going to Atheria, we' ll need to get a place near Northwood. And we were hoping... maybe your parents could help us out with the deposit? For Emily' s sake, of course. She can' t afford it on her own."

The sheer audacity of it left me speechless. They were abandoning the future my family had paid for, and in the same breath, asking for more money to fund their new life with the girl who had orchestrated it all.

They looked at me, their expressions a mixture of hope and entitlement. They expected me to say yes. They' d always gotten what they wanted from the Millers.

I felt a dangerous calm settle over me. The fear was still there, but it was being replaced by something colder, harder. A resolve. I would not be a tragic supporting character in their story. I would not be a stepping stone.

"I... I' ll have to talk to my parents," I said, my voice barely a whisper. It was the only answer I could give that wouldn' t trigger another warning from the phantom text. A direct refusal was "obstructing the plot."

Jake' s face lit up. "Great! We knew you' d understand, Chloe. You' ve always been so generous."

"We' ll make it up to you, I promise," Noah added, looking relieved.

Their promises were worthless. They were lies wrapped in fake sincerity.

"I have to go," I said, turning away from them before they could see the look in my eyes. "My parents are waiting to hear the news."

I walked away, my back straight, not looking back. As soon as I was inside the house, out of their sight, I slid down the cool marble of the entryway wall, the letter from Atheria crinkling in my fist.

They thought I was going to ask my parents for money for them. They thought everything would continue as it always had, with them taking and us giving.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying across the screen. I didn't call my mom or dad. I sent a single, encrypted text to one number.

Mr. Henderson, my family' s financial advisor.

Mr. Henderson, I need to see you. It's urgent. It' s about the discretionary trust funds for Jake Davis and Noah Stone. We need to make some immediate changes.

They wanted to play a game with a predetermined plot. Fine.

But they forgot one crucial detail.

I was the one who held the rulebook.