Chapter 1

My mother gave me a Hermes bag, a token of her love, and Ivy Sinclair—my roommate, raised in an orphanage—could barely contain her jealousy.

She stole my bag, sold it, and donated the money to the school, instantly becoming the mysterious, revered campus princess.

When I reported it to the authorities, her shame spiraled into something darker. In a desperate act, she jumped from a building.

Suddenly, the world turned against me. The girl who once stood at the top of the social ladder was now branded a ruthless bully, accused of driving a classmate to her death.

But Ivy, battered and broken in a hospital bed, became the people's hero—the girl who had "stolen from the rich to help the poor."

And Lucas Hawke, my boyfriend—who had always been by my side—betrayed me. He testified that I'd willingly donated the bag and joined the others in turning the school against me.

A flood of lies poured out, dragging my family's name through the mud, and my father's company crumbled under the weight of the scandal.

We were left destitute, our family destroyed.

They seized the moment to build their empire on my ruin, raking in huge profits.

But fate had other plans. I woke up, back at the beginning—on the day of the donation event.

Ivy stood on stage, her face flushed with triumph, as she promised to donate 3.8 million dollars to the school, winning the admiration of everyone in the room.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, cheering for her.

And that's when it hit me—the 3.8 million dollars was the exact price my limited-edition Hermes bag fetched on the secondhand market.

I rushed back to my dorm, switched the real bag for a counterfeit.

Go ahead, Ivy—this time, let's see how you plan to save face.

"Stella Hawthorne, didn't your family strike it rich?" Isolde Belvoir's voice cut through the air like a blade dipped in sugar.

She added, "Ivy just donated 3.8 million dollars—what about you? Planning to sit there playing dead until someone claps?"

The shrill voice yanked me out of sleep. I saw Isolde perched smugly, eyes brimming with mockery.

Ivy placed a gentle hand on Isolde's arm, her tone honeyed and benevolent. "That's enough, Isolde," she said with a soft smile. "I'm sure Stella has her reasons for staying silent."

"Oh, please," Isolde scoffed. "What reason? Flat broke and still pretending otherwise? That Hermes bag she's having—does she even know the kind of connections it takes to get one?" She leaned forward with a sneer. "Showing up to campus with a knockoff is just sad. You, Ivy—you make a casual donation of 3.8 million dollars. I mean, being your roommate might actually raise my social credit score."

And that's when it hit me. I wasn't dreaming. I had come back.

Back to the first day of college. Back to the donation that turned Ivy into a campus legend.

And with her halo now shining, all eyes naturally turned to the girl seated beside her—me.

In a bid to curry favor with Ivy, the so-called "super-rich heiress," those sycophants have all made me her foil.

Countless harsh words come pouring in.

"Three-point-eight million for a Hermes? Then let's see it," someone called from the hallway, snickering.

Another voice chimed in with a cruel laugh. "Trying to show off in front of Miss Sinclair? She really doesn't know who she's messing with."

Ivy stepped between them and me, lifting a hand in theatrical alarm. "You can't throw accusations around without proof," she said, her eyes wide with concern. "Who are you to say Stella's bag is fake?"

She turned to the crowd, voice rising with saintly conviction. "In my eyes, there's no place for bullying or exclusion. I hope, for the next four years, we can treat each other with kindness. I believe—"

I didn't let her finish. With one swift motion, I kicked her off the platform. She tumbled forward, hitting the floor with a graceless thud.

"You're in my way," I said coolly, stepping past her.

Afraid that I would explain in person, she pretended to stand up for me, spouting these ambiguous words instead.

They didn't matter. None of them did. Because the 3.8 million dollars Ivy had just promised to donate? That was the exact resale price of the bag my mother had given me.

Ivy whimpered, tears brimming as she looked up at me with betrayal etched across her face. The classmates' jeers and scolds at me rose in a mounting crescendo. I ignored all of this and turned on my heel, sprinting back to the dorm.

This time, I'd guard that bag with my life. I knew too well—this was where everything began to fall apart.

I threw open the cabinet. The lock was intact. The Hermes, still in place.

I exhaled a shaky breath and leaned against the wardrobe, my mind racing. When had she taken it last time?

I wracked my brain, eyes narrowing in focus. She made the transfer the day after her pledge. Even I had believed she was some discreet heiress.

Now it was obvious—she would take it tonight.

Last time, I'd rushed home for my father's birthday after the ceremony.

The day before, my mother had given me the Hermes as a send-off gift, delivered by her secretary. Ivy had been there when it arrived.

I'd shoved it to the back of the cabinet and said nothing. Still, she managed to spin her tale—claiming I'd bought a counterfeit just to show off.

By the time I returned to school, the money was already with the university.

I'd never even opened the box. Never flaunted it.

When I found it and tried to report the theft, Ivy had already become a saint wrapped in gold.

Even though she was a thief, she was still hailed as a female hero who "robbed the rich to help the poor."

She told the world she couldn't bear the shame and leapt before the police arrived.

Lucas—my ever-faithful boyfriend—took her side without hesitation. He helped destroy me. My name, my family, my father's company.

The public saw us as greedy tyrants who crushed a girl for daring to be kind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the memories off like water from my skin. I wouldn't relive the rest. Not the bankruptcy. Not the funerals.

Gripping the bag like a lifeline, I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial.

When the line connected, I spoke fast, breathless. "Hermes just released a limited edition. Can you get me a convincing fake? I need it. Now."