Chapter 3

I dragged my two suitcases, walking for so long on the late-night streets that my legs started to ache.

Finally, I stopped in front of an alley entrance lit by a dubious neon sign.

"Rooms for Rent, $300 Monthly" was scrawled in red paint on the wall.

Alright, this would have to do.

The landlady was a tough-looking woman, puffing on a cigarette. She gave my clothes a peculiar once-over, then eyed my two expensive-looking suitcases, before finally tossing me a greasy key.

First month's rent and a security deposit, cash only.

I emptied my wallet of the few remaining bills, in exchange for this space of less than ten square meters.

A bare cot, a chipped table, and a flickering light bulb with a bad connection.

The walls were stained with marks left by previous tenants, and the air hung heavy with a mix of damp mildew and cheap perfume.

I lay on the hard cot, fully dressed, staring at the stubbornly flickering light bulb, sleepless through the night.

The next day, I was woken by a commotion.

Footsteps shuffled chaotically in the hallway, mixed with women's screams and men's shouts.

I ignored it until there was a knock on my door.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

The knocking was urgent, carrying an impatient certainty.

I thought it was the landlady, so I got up to open the door.

When I pulled it open, I froze.

It was Serena Hayes.

She was wearing full, elaborate makeup, looking like a princess who had wandered into a slum, stark against the drab, dilapidated background.

Behind her, several reporters carried cameras, all pointed at me.

Flashbulbs popped "click-click-click," stinging my eyes.

"Sister,"

Serena's eyes immediately welled up with tears,

"How could you be living in a place like this? Don't you know how worried Mom and Dad and I have been?"

As she spoke, she reached out to take my hand, but I sidestepped, avoiding her.

She didn't seem embarrassed. She pulled out a thick envelope and, in front of all the cameras, tried to press it into my hand.

"Sister, I know things are hard for you right now. Mom and Dad asked me to give you this. Take it, find a better place to stay, don't let yourself suffer."

Her voice choked, acting with such sincerity.

"Don't worry, as long as you apologize to Mom and Dad and admit your mistakes, the door to our home will always be open for you."

I looked at her and suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

"Serena Hayes,"

I spoke, my voice a little hoarse from not having drunk water all night,

"Do you really think everyone is as stupid as you are?"

The expression on her face stiffened, and the tears in her eyes almost failed to hold.

"Sister, how can you say that... I'm just trying to be kind..."

"Cut the act,"

I interrupted her,

"Bringing reporters to visit me, are you afraid I won't die miserably enough, so you came to twist the knife? Or is the 'tech prodigy' image crumbling too fast, and you need to step on my 'corpse' to climb higher?"

Serena's face went completely pale.

She hadn't expected me to talk to her like that, even in my current desperate state.

She took a deep breath, dropped her pitiful demeanor, and leaned in, saying in a voice only we two could hear:

"Harper Reed, don't be foolish. You have nothing now. How can you fight me? Believe me, if I say the word, you won't even be able to live in a dump like this."

She paused, a hint of cruel pleasure in the curve of her lips:

"Be a good-for-nothing, admit that everything is mine, and maybe I can find you a job cleaning toilets. Otherwise, you can just starve on the streets."

After saying that, she reverted to her kind, innocent persona and sighed for the cameras:

"Sister, just think about it."

With that, she and the swarm of media marched away.

I closed the door, listening to the murmurs outside gradually fade.

Starve on the streets? Cleaning toilets?

I walked to the only mirror in the room.

My hair was a mess, my eyes bloodshot, looking as disheveled as a lunatic.

But those eyes, in the dim light, glowed with an unnerving intensity.