Chapter3

The next day, the surgery was a success.

I found out through an automated text from the hospital system. No one actually bothered to tell me in person.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and walked into the office, the brass WME plaque gleaming on the door. The interview went smoother than I ever expected. Mitchell flipped through the athletic combine data models I'd built, stopping to ask just one question: "Did you do all this analysis yourself?"

"Yes."

"Welcome aboard. You start Monday. We'll have you begin with contract reviews."

When I signed the paperwork, my hand was completely steady.

That evening, I stopped by the house to pack up my room.

Pushing the front door open, I saw the hallway wall plastered with photos of Caleb and Lily. From their high school prom to the hospital ward, the frames were packed so densely it looked like a premature wedding reception display.

My bedroom door was left ajar. I pushed it open and froze in the doorway for three seconds.

My desk had been flipped over. The drawers were yanked out and dumped upside down, scattering three years' worth of industry research across the floor. The closet doors were wide open, the inside completely hollowed out.

I crouched down and picked up a single piece of paper—my sports agent certification exam notes that I had just organized last week.

"Oh, you're back," Diane's voice came from behind me.

I stood up. "Where is my stuff?"

"Those junk papers were taking up space, so I had someone clear them out," she said, looking around with a satisfied tone. "This room is being remodeled for Lily. Once she and Caleb are officially engaged, she'll need a place to settle in."

I didn’t say a word. I just pulled out my phone and logged into my credit card account.

There was a recent charge for $3,700. The memo read: St. Jude Medical Center - VIP Recovery Suite Upgrade.

That was the money I had been saving for over half a year to pay for my agent certification tuition.

"Who authorized this charge?"

Diane tilted her chin up. "I did. So what? Your brother is saving a life, and Lily deserves the best room available. What does a girl like you need all that money for, anyway? This family's finances should be pooled and managed together."

"It's my credit card."

"You are a daughter of this house," her voice pitched higher. "Your brother is risking his life for love, and you're hung up on a little over three grand? Have you completely lost your conscience?"

I didn't argue anymore. Right then and there, I dialed the bank's customer service. I reported the card stolen, had it frozen immediately, flagged the transaction as fraudulent, and initiated a chargeback.

Diane's face changed. "You—you're calling the cops?"

"I didn't call the cops," I said, hanging up. "I'm just cutting my losses."

I started packing whatever was left in the room—some salvageable research from the last three years, a few changes of clothes, and an old laptop. It all fit into a single suitcase.

Diane sneered. "Go on, leave. But if you walk out that door, don't expect to ever have a place in this family again."

"I never did."

I dragged my suitcase past her, hailed a ride, and headed straight back to the hospital.

I went to the billing department first. After presenting my ID and the fraud claim number, I got a printed chargeback notification.

Then, I walked into Caleb’s recovery room. Diane and Arthur were right beside a newly awakened Caleb. Diane frowned the second she saw me. "Where are the clothes I told you to bring?"

I ignored her completely and slapped the notification paper onto the table.

Diane went deathly pale. "You canceled it? You're getting Lily kicked out of the VIP suite!"

"Since you stole my card, you can figure out how to pay for your own luxuries."

Arthur shot to his feet. "You reported your own mother to the bank over three grand?"

"If that stolen money isn't wired back into my account within twenty-four hours, I'm filing an official police report." I looked dead at Arthur, enunciating every word. "Grand theft is a felony. I'd love to know what the athletic brands Caleb just signed with will think when they see their future poster boy's parents indicted for theft."

Caleb's face drained of color. He struggled to sit up, glaring at me. "You're crazy, Serena."

"Figure out how to foot the bill yourself," I said, turning for the door. "Or let your true love pay for it."

Just as I reached the doorway, a nurse walked in carrying a clipboard.

"I'm really sorry, but since the balance hasn't been cleared, the patient will need to be moved back to a standard double-occupancy room. Please pack up your personal belongings as soon as possible."

Diane exploded on the spot, screaming shrilly at the nurse. Arthur frantically pulled out his phone to call his own bank.

I didn't look back. I just let the heavy door swing shut, trapping all that chaos inside.

My phone buzzed. It was an Instagram notification for Caleb’s new post. The photo showed his fingers interlaced with Lily’s, the caption radiating sheer arrogance:

"My kidney for your life. And with this life, we’re going to conquer the world together."

The comment section was already flooded with exclamation points and heart emojis.

In my past life, they orbited Caleb the exact same way—only back then, they were worshipping his max-salary contract and his once-in-a-generation talent. Later on, they would sigh and say, "It's a shame Lily didn't live to see all of this." And finally, they would all shoot me the same glaring look: "Serena has a heart of stone."

I swiped the notification away. I didn't linger on it for more than two seconds.

That night, I moved into an eight-hundred-dollar-a-month rental on the east side of the city.

The moment I locked the door, I felt true, absolute silence for the very first time.

I pinned the chargeback slip to the wall to remind myself of one thing: the law was the only thing I could trust.

A month later, the backlash finally hit.