Chapter 5

"Come on, put on a smile—you're back home now," Dexter said.

"Watching this piano show is such a drag. Why not ditch it and hang out with me?" Dexter grinned at me.

Dexter narrowed his eyes, playfully raising his eyebrows at me.

*****

He said the piano performance was so boring that even a dog wouldn't stick around, then dragged me over the wall to ditch the party. We spent the whole day and night gaming together.

But then he fell head over heels for Olivia, ditched class, and didn't touch a single game after that.

He'd go with her to every piano competition, sitting through the whole thing from start to finish.

So, one should never say never.

Life as the Wilkinson family's daughter was even more unbearable than those cramped days in the mountain village.

Olivia could paint me as the jealous, never-satisfied troublemaker with just a few casual words.

Because she was the perfect one, my parents had me tagging along after her, hoping I'd pick up her good habits.

And since she was their golden girl, whatever she said became the truth. She'd claim I didn't care about my studies, slept through class, and only thought about boys. No matter how I tried to defend myself or prove otherwise, Mom would just give me that disappointed look and lecture me for being lazy.

Once I realized it was pointless to explain, I just stopped trying.

The first Christmas after I came back to the Wilkinson family, my parents traveled abroad with Olivia.

Meanwhile, I was left behind, locked in my room to "reflect".

Christmas Eve rolled around. Fireworks lit up the night, while the neighbors' TV played the gala, all loud laughter and that festive, everyone's-together kind of vibe.

Me? I was so hungry I drank tap water in the bathroom. When I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed a chair, smashed the window, and took a leap from the second floor.

In my final year of high school, our school held a talent show.

With just a few tearful words, Olivia had everyone convinced I was the one who sabotaged her dance shoes with nails.

My parents called me cruel, saying I couldn't stand Olivia. They said the Wilkinson family had spent years searching for me, that Olivia never stopped caring, and this was how I repaid them.

At school, Olivia's fanboys went wild bullying me—my homework got trashed, my textbooks defaced, and the seat I sat on was covered in thumbtacks.

Dexter watched from the sidelines, his eyes cold and detached.

At first, some of them tried to check where he stood. "Doesn't she call you her brother? Isn't it kinda messed up for us to treat her like this?"

Dexter just shot me a quick look, then turned away, his voice flat and uncaring. "Her? She's just some kid from the sticks. How could she ever be my sister?"

After that, the others really didn't hold back anymore.

I got kicked out of the Wilkinson place and school—barely scraping by, living on some legally required allowance and whatever side gigs I could find.

After the college entrance exams, someone posted security cam footage on the school forum that proved I wasn't the one who jammed Olivia's dance shoes with thumbtacks. Finally, my name was cleared.

Mom and Dad called me once. When I wouldn't come home, they branded me some ungrateful little traitor who only knew how to hold grudges instead of remembering kindness.

As for Dexter, he just mailed me some fancy foreign chocolates.

There was not even a single apology.

I had no idea where he got the nerve.

Did he really think that after all that bullying at school, I'd still be hopelessly in love with him?

After leaving the club, I was planning to just grab my stuff and bail. But then my mom called out of nowhere, telling me to come home.

Ever since I moved out of the Wilkinson family in my senior year, we hadn't spoken. So when she suddenly reached out, I knew it was probably about Olivia.

Since I was already out, I figured I might as well just get it over with. I took a cab to the Wilkinson family's fancy neighborhood. When I got out, I realized I was empty-handed, so I doubled back to check out a nearby fruit shop.

Seriously, prices had gone insane lately—just a couple of pears and they want fifty dollars for them.

The Wilkinson family was not getting pears worth my fifty dollars.

I was literally bug-eyed and asked the shopkeeper, "Forget it. Do you have any cheap fruit, even if it's a bit beaten up? Doesn't need to be fresh."

This area was packed with luxury neighborhoods, so I guessed the shopkeeper had never heard a request like mine before. He just stared for a few seconds, then shrugged with a smirk. "I mean, we've got some in those boxes over there on the bottom. Go dig around if you want."

I was hunched over, sorting through the bargain fruit, when I heard a soft laugh behind me.

The laugh sounded familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before.

I turned to look and spotted a refined-looking man sitting in a wheelchair.

A blanket was spread out over his legs, his suit crisp and spotless, and his light brown hair was a little long—tucked neatly behind his ears. He was watching me, amusement bright in his eyes.

I just froze, staring at him—his name was right there on the tip of my tongue. But maybe it was nerves or just that overwhelming feeling of seeing someone from the past; I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.

When I kept quiet for a while, he just raised an eyebrow.

"What, it's been a few years and you've already forgotten me?" he joked.

"You little rascal," he laughed, giving me that teasing look.

My eyes burned as tears sprang up.