The Next Morning

The following dawn broke.

Serena propped herself upright on the edge of her bed, her face ashen as a ghost, the gauze wrapped around her head crusted over with dried, blackened blood.

She dug out the first-aid kit and fumbled clumsily to redress her wound, her hands trembling sharply from the throbbing pain.

Grabbing a plain hooded sweatshirt at random, she pulled the hood low to conceal the bandage, slung her backpack over one shoulder, and trundled down the stairs.

In the dining hall, Tina sat front and center, carried herself like a true princess.

All six of her brothers had clustered around her, hanging on her every word.

Serena stepped in with an empty, impassive expression, dragged out the farthest corner chair, and sank down.

The chatter in the room died out instantly.

"How's the injury?" Albert lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed on the hood covering her scalp.

"Not fatal," Serena replied, grabbing a slice of plain toast.

"Watch your tone!" Brian slammed his fork hard against the table. "Albert's showing you concern, and you can't even bother with an apology? You act as if you're in the right!"

"Serena, does your head still ache?" Tina's eyes welled up at once. "This is all my fault…"

"It's nothing to do with you." Chris patted Tina's shoulder, then shot Serena a frigid glare. "Serena, look out for Tina at school today. Her leg makes climbing stairs difficult. You're the one who hurt her, so it falls to you to take responsibility."

Tina launched into her usual act of meek humility. "Don't trouble Serena on my account—I'll manage fine on my own…"

Serena could not stomach another word of it and turned to walk out without a second glance.

Watching Serena leave, Tina's heart swelled with undisguised triumph.

Go on then—get as far away as possible, preferably never come back. Then she would have the six Seymour brothers' undivided, exclusive affection all to herself.

There would only ever be one official Young Miss of the Seymour household.

Meanwhile, as Serena crossed the school gates, every pair of eyes latched onto her like swarms of buzzing flies.

"That's her—Serena, the one who shoved Tina down the staircase last night at the gala."

"She always carries herself like some icy, untouchable goddess, who knew she's this vicious deep down."

"Of course the real Seymour heiress would seethe over Tina stealing her spotlight. Typical messy wealthy family drama."

Whispers rippled nonstop around her, yet Serena kept walking forward, staring straight ahead toward the teaching building without sparing a single glance for the gossiping students.

Passing the bulletin board, she caught a group of girls huddled around a phone screen from the corner of her eye.

The footage captured snippets of the previous night's party, all context and justification for her actions ruthlessly edited out.

In her past life, watching that clip had shattered her completely.

She'd run from person to person, desperately explaining that she had not pushed Tina—that Tina had thrown herself down the stairs on purpose.

She'd talked until her throat was raw, only to meet more sneers and disdain.

This lifetime, she had no intention of uttering a single word in her own defense.

Serena rounded the hallway bend and collided with a familiar figure head-on.

Tina was being escorted by a crowd of girls, a stark white bandage wrapped tight around her forearm.

The moment she spotted Serena, Tina slowed her steps on purpose, painting a timid, sweet smile across her face.

"Serena…"

Every student in the corridor zeroed in on them instantly, all eager to watch the drama unfold.

Serena halted, tilted her head, and smiled faintly—a smile that sent an unshakable prickle of unease skittering down Tina's spine.

What was wrong this morning? Serena ought to have flown into a furious shouting match with her by now.

"Tina." Serena took one slow step closer. "Tell me—did I push you yesterday?"

A hush fell over the hallway, every ear pricked to catch their exchange.

Tina had not anticipated Serena's blunt, unflinching question.

She nipped her lower lip, her eyes glistening red in a heartbeat. "Serena, what are you saying… I tripped and fell by accident yesterday, it had nothing to do with you. Everyone, please don't misunderstand Serena—she's always been kind to me."

To any onlooker, it sounded as though Tina was bending over backward to excuse Serena, yet her wounded expression and hesitant tone told an entirely different story.

"Tina's too pure-hearted for this world, defending her even after everything that happened."

"Look how shaken she is—Serena must bully her nonstop."

"Just because she's the blood heiress, she thinks she can push people around however she wants?"

Serena had long foreseen this exact performance from Tina. In her past life, every line of feigned leniency only cemented the false accusations against her deeper.

She advanced another step, leaning in to murmur right beside Tina's ear.

Tina flinched backward instinctively, but Serena's fingers shot out to lock around her wrist before she could pull away.

"You don't honestly think…" Serena's voice dropped to a whisper only Tina could hear, "that this will get a rise out of me, do you?"

Tina's pupils shrank sharply with shock.

Serena released her grip and stumbled back a half-step, already turning to leave, bored by the charade.

Abruptly, Tina's entire body lurched backward, crashing heavily onto the linoleum floor.

"Aah!" Tina let out a shrill cry of pain.

"Good heavens! Serena shoved her again!"

"We all saw it! She must have struck her when she leaned in close!"

"How dare she attack someone in front of this many people—she's absolutely shameless!"

Serena stood rooted to the spot, staring down at the tearful, fragile-looking Tina sprawled on the ground, her gaze frigid enough to freeze water.

She had not laid a single finger on Tina's body—Tina had simply used Serena's frame to block the crowd's view and thrown herself backward on cue.

Tina had pulled this trick countless times in her past life, each time leaving Serena with no way to prove her innocence.

Word spread faster than wildfire.

Barely twenty minutes later, Albert and Brian appeared at the door to the school infirmary.

Albert walked at the front, his face clouded with a terrifying, thunderous rage.

He shoved the infirmary door open hard. The first thing he saw was Tina perched on the edge of the bed, sobbing, a fresh purple bruise blooming on her bandaged arm. A violent vein throbbed at his temple.

"Serena!"

Brian had dragged Serena into the room by her arm.

The wound on her skull pulsed with brutal agony, fog clouding her mind and making her dizzy.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Albert spun to face her, his eyes blazing with a fire hot enough to burn her alive. "You didn't cause enough chaos at home, so you bring your tantrums to school? Do you intend to hound Tina until she breaks completely?"

"I didn't push her," Serena shook her head coolly.

She had eaten nothing but a single slice of toast since the night before and burned with fever all through the midnight hours; her head spun so badly she could barely stay upright, her legs wobbly as if standing on cotton.

"Still lying through your teeth!" Brian gave her a rough shove forward. "Dozens of students witnessed everything—do you take us for fools? Serena, when did you turn into this person, spouting nothing but vicious lies? Where is the kind-hearted little sister we once knew?"

Her body swayed unsteadily, nausea churning in her stomach alongside the vertigo.

"Serena, don't hold their harsh words against them," Tina sniffled through her tears. "They're only distraught from worry. I'm truly fine, it's just a small fall, it barely hurts at all. Please don't scold my sister—she likely didn't mean it."

Serena lifted her eyes to meet Tina's pitiful, tear-streaked face, ready to lash back with cutting mockery.

But in the next heartbeat, the whole room began to spin wildly before her eyes.