Chapter 2

I swapped the real Hermes with the fake one in a matter of minutes. Dragging my suitcase behind me, I was ready to head home and celebrate my father's birthday.

But just as I turned onto the sycamore-lined path near the campus gates, I froze. There she was—Ivy, basking in the afterglow of her performance in the auditorium, still soaking up praise like it was her birthright.

And standing next to her, of all people, was my newly minted boyfriend, Lucas Hawke. The same Lucas who, last time, had stabbed me in the back without hesitation.

I ducked behind the corner instinctively.

From where I stood, I heard Ivy's soft, falsely wounded voice drift over.

She began, "Lucas… I thought you'd forgotten who I was. Yesterday, when you helped Stella carry her luggage into the dorms, you didn't even look at me. I couldn't sleep all night, thinking about it."

Lucas exhaled heavily, his tone laced with regret. "Ivy, no—Stella has a… mood disorder. She forced me to date her. She's incredibly controlling. Yesterday, I was just scared that if I spoke to you, she'd get jealous and take it out on you in the dorm. I ignored you for your own good."

He chuckled nervously. "But now… now you've become so powerful and wealthy, there's no way Stella could hurt you. Maybe we can finally be like we were… back at the orphanage."

Ivy stiffened. Her eyes darted, and she slapped a hand over Lucas's mouth in alarm.

I quickly ducked into a corner, pressing myself against the wall to hide away in a hurry.

"Don't ever mention the orphanage again," she whispered sharply. "The man who adopted me… he treats me like his own daughter. He wouldn't want the world knowing I'm not."

Lucas, clueless and overeager, hugged her with visible relief. "Don't worry, Ivy. I'll never tell anyone. You're a billionaire's daughter now—through and through."

They twirled together, basking in their borrowed fairy tale.

I stepped out from the corner, not bothering to hide anymore. I'd heard enough.

They froze as soon as they saw me. Ivy's face drained of color. Lucas stiffened beside her like a startled deer.

"S-Stella," Ivy stammered. "How long have you been standing there?"

I turned slowly, letting my gaze linger on Ivy's panic-stricken face. A smirk tugged at my lips. "Not long. Just caught the part about you and Lucas being childhood sweethearts from the orphanage. Oh—and that you're a fake heiress."

"Ah!" Ivy let out a shrill, unhinged shriek that echoed across the path.

Lucas flailed beside her, scrambling to reclaim the narrative. "Stella, are you insane? I'm telling you now—I won't let you manipulate me anymore. There's no way I'd ever be with you again!

"So what if Ivy's not a real heiress? Her money and status are real. She donated more than three million to the school—can you? You said you'd get me a Rolex—where is it? All talk, no action. I should've seen through you from the start."

I glanced down at the suitcase in my hand. Inside, alongside my Hermes, was a brand-new Rolex I'd chosen for him.

I remembered our first meeting on move-in day—I'd just flown back from abroad and was flustered, lost.

Lucas had offered to carry my bags, flashing that charming smile.

He was extremely handsome, and it was the first time I experienced love.

Not long after, we started dating.

I saw the Rolex clipping he'd tucked into his notebook—his dream watch, he'd said, cheeks flushed.

I had quietly pocketed the paper. "I'll get you the real thing," I'd promised.

Yet before I could even give him the watch, he had already left with Ivy.

My grip tightened on the suitcase. Ivy's eyes followed the motion, her expression turning instantly defensive. "Where are you going? What's in your suitcase?"

I caught her meaning instantly. She thought I was taking the real Hermes with me—ruining her chance to steal it.

"What's in my suitcase," I said coolly, "is none of your business."

She lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, trying to wrestle the case from me. "I've got valuables in our dorm. If you sneak in and take them, who's going to stop you? Open the suitcase. Now."

"You can call the police." I yanked my arm free and started walking again, unfazed.

Seeing that she couldn't intimidate me, Ivy switched tactics in a heartbeat.

She put on a gentle smile and fell into step beside me. "Stella… I didn't mean it that way. I know the others looked down on you after what happened in the auditorium, and I understand—it must've hurt your pride. But don't throw away your future just because of that. Don't drop out. You've worked so hard to get here."

She reached for the handle of my suitcase. "Let me help you take your things back to the dorm. Just stay somewhere else tonight, clear your head, and come back tomorrow, okay?"

"Ivy!" The sharp shout came from across the road.

I turned my head. Isolde was stomping over, arms crossed, face puffed with righteous indignation.

She eyed my suitcase with exaggerated suspicion. "Oh, so now you're finally ashamed of pretending to be rich? Running home with your tail between your legs, are you?"

After her jab, she turned to Ivy with theatrical concern. "Ivy, seriously. People like her aren't worth your kindness. Girls like Stella—so materialistic—don't even deserve a second glance."

But instead of backing her up, Ivy turned on Isolde like a thunderstorm. "What do you even know?! Stella's our roommate.

"It's the first week of school—how dare you stir up this kind of drama? I can't stand people like you. Always creating problems."

Her voice had risen to such a pitch that passersby began slowing down, drawn by the noise. They murmured in support of Ivy, impressed by her display of moral outrage.

Isolde looked stunned, sobbing. "But… you were the one who said Stella carried a fake bag and that she was gross and greedy. I was just helping you. How am I the villain?"

"Shut up!" Ivy snapped. "Don't twist my words. Just leave."

Humiliated, Isolde blinked back tears and fled the scene.

Ivy turned back to me, her smile now painfully strained. "Stella, you see? I've dealt with the person who bullied you. Let me take your suitcase back for you, okay?"

"No need." I turned and walked away.

Ivy, clearly conscious of the watching crowd, didn't dare chase after me. She remained rooted to the spot, fuming.