Chapter 4

Less than twelve hours after I left the old library, an encrypted email from an unknown IP slipped into my inbox. The sender's name was just one word: Phantom.

Zoe had cashed the check and upgraded to top-tier equipment. Her efficiency exceeded even my expectations.

But in the first wave of communication surveillance data she sent over, there were only a few fragmented chat records—Lacey and Landon had been cunning enough to use self-destructing messaging apps. Zoe could only recover a handful of fragments.

But it was enough.

The intel showed they were eager to prepare a special "gift" for me at the upcoming Homecoming Dance.

They were building a "stage" to crush me completely, to make sure I'd never rise again.

Staring at the fractured warnings on my screen, I couldn't help but smile. If they'd already set the stage, how could I possibly miss the show?

Three days later.

St. Jude Academy's Homecoming Dance had always been ground zero for this elite circle's power plays.

As the former "queen," I should have been the center of attention. But tonight, everyone knew I was the "psycho" who'd just been kicked out of the Kendrick family—not only broke but abandoned by all.

I wore a newly purchased minimalist black backless haute couture gown, paired with red-bottomed heels, and pushed open the heavy ballroom doors alone.

The grand hall gleamed with opulence. A massive champagne tower sparkled hypnotically beneath crystal chandeliers.

For a few moments, I noticed faint red lights blinking from the smoke detectors in the ceiling corners. Upgraded security for the event, probably—the school board was always paranoid about liability.

As the doors swung open, the previously buzzing venue fell silent for three full seconds. Every pair of eyes locked onto me like I'd grown a second head.

"How does she still have the nerve to show up?" "I heard she's so broke her credit cards got canceled. That couture dress must be rented from some secondhand shop, right?"

I ignored the idiotic whispers and walked straight to the bar, poured myself a glass of red wine, and began scanning the crowd for my "prey."

Not far away, Lacey stood arm-in-arm with Landon, basking in attention at the center of the crowd. She wore an elaborate white princess gown, and around her neck—a dazzling diamond necklace.

The moment I saw it, my eyes went ice cold.

That was the Kendrick heirloom, my mother's prized necklace. Locked in Father's safe since her death—until Spencer gave it to this impostor.

Spencer, as student body president, stood on stage delivering his opening remarks. When he spotted me entering, his brow furrowed immediately, disgust flashing in his eyes.

Lacey obviously noticed me too. Her eyes gleamed as she released Landon's arm, picked up a champagne flute, and sauntered toward me with calculated grace.

"Blythe, you finally made it." Lacey approached, deliberately raising her voice to ensure everyone around could hear. "I was worried you wouldn't have anything appropriate to wear. Look, Spencer was so concerned about me being looked down on that he specially lent me this necklace. You don't mind, do you?"

She touched the diamonds at her throat, her eyes full of provocation and showing off.

The surrounding crowd began whispering, all waiting to watch me fall apart.

Landon walked over too, frowning as he addressed me: "Blythe, it's a special night. Don't cause a scene. That necklace looks good on Lacey."

"Looks good?" I let out a cold laugh, my gaze sweeping across Lacey and Landon's faces. "A stolen dog collar on a bastard's neck—I'd say that's pretty fitting."

"Blythe! Watch your fucking mouth!" Landon roared.

Lacey's eyes immediately reddened, biting her lip in a picture of wounded innocence. She suddenly took a step forward, her foot "accidentally" catching.

As she pitched toward me, her hand flailed out, clumsily swiping against my clutch to steady herself.

If I reached out to catch her, or dodged, she'd take the fall and claim I pushed her. Her usual manipulative bullshit.

But I neither caught her nor dodged.

I simply raised the full glass of red wine in my other hand and splashed it directly into her face without mercy!

"Splash—!"

Deep red liquid instantly drenched Lacey's face, streaming down her carefully applied makeup and staining that expensive white princess gown into a shocking blood red.

"Ahhh—!!!"

Lacey let out an ear-piercing shriek, covering her face as she crumpled to the floor.

Strangely, all those guys who'd usually rush to her rescue stood frozen. Only Landon made a show of charging forward:

"Blythe! What the hell!" Landon bellowed, trying to shove me aside.

I backhanded him with a resounding slap that sent him stumbling backward two steps, knocking over a nearby high stool.

"Scheming against me? Who the fuck do you think you are to boss me around!" I glared at Landon, my voice dripping with contempt.

Spencer rushed down from the stage, livid: "Blythe! You're an irredeemable lunatic! Security! Get her out of here!"

I watched coldly as security guards charged toward me. Despite their imposing size, their steps were oddly slow, as if they were deliberately herding me toward the exit.

But I didn't care. I whipped around, grabbed the tablecloth of the nearby champagne tower—easily six feet tall—and yanked it with all my strength!

"Crash—!"

Hundreds of expensive crystal flutes toppled instantly, shattering on the floor with deafening cracks. Glass shards and champagne sprayed everywhere.

The entire ballroom fell into deathly silence. Everyone was stunned by my scorched-earth madness.

I walked through the field of broken glass, step by step, until I stood over Lacey where she sat collapsed on the floor, and ripped the diamond necklace from her throat.

The chain snapped, leaving a thin scratch across her delicate skin. She huddled into herself, head bowed, whimpering pathetically.

"Using my mother's things as props? You're nothing but pathetic trash." I clutched the necklace tightly, coldly surveying the entire room.

"Listen up, all of you. I don't start fights, but anyone who messes with me again? This is what you get."

With that, I ignored the averted eyes around me, shoved past Landon, and headed for the exit.

When I was just steps from the door, my clutch suddenly vibrated violently in my hand.

I glanced down at the screen. Zoe's red-alert messages flashed:

[STOP!! DON'T USE THAT DOOR!! It's a trap—spy cams in the smoke detectors! Just pulled blind spot footage—Lacey planted drugs in your clutch when she faked that fall earlier!]

[Landon already called the cops! They're using the livestream of you trashing the place as evidence to frame you for drug-induced assault! Cops are RIGHT OUTSIDE!!]

My feet froze. Ice shot down my spine.

Security moving slow. No one intervening. It all made sense now.

My so-called triumph had been perfectly captured for Lacey's cameras—textbook footage of an addict on a rampage.

Too late. The ballroom doors burst open.

No night air—only piercing sirens. Red and blue strobes sliced through the hall. Armed officers blocked every exit.

Behind me, a shrill scream shattered the silence.

"Officers, help us!" Lacey's voice rose in a perfectly timed sob, dripping with terror and desperation. "Blythe's gone crazy... she's on drugs, she's trying to kill us!"