Chapter 3

Rowan’s Jeep was idling two blocks down the street.

The second she saw me lugging my duffel bag, she hopped out and tossed it into the trunk for me.

"I’ve been saying it for years—your parents have literal sewer sludge for brains," Rowan muttered as she put the car in drive, grabbing a Tupperware container from the passenger seat.

"My mom just baked these blueberry muffins. Still warm. She said the guest room is yours for as long as you need it."

I popped the lid, and the rich smell of butter hit my face.

So this was what a normal family felt like.

No passive-aggressive remarks, no blatant favoritism. Just warm food and unhesitating acceptance.

"Thanks," I mumbled around a bite of muffin. My eyes stung slightly, but I forced the feeling down just as fast.

The next morning, I showed up at school like nothing happened.

The second I stepped into the hallway, a commotion hit my ears.

A crowd was huddled around my locker. Aria stood right in the center, clutching a thick stack of papers and soaking up the collective awe.

"Aria, you are literally a genius! This AI algorithm model isn't even covered in AP Comp Sci, and you coded it yourself?" a cheerleader squealed exaggeratedly.

Aria tucked a strand of hair behind her ear coyly. "It's really nothing. I just... picked up an interest in coding during the years I was missing. I stayed up last night polishing it. I'm going to use it to apply for MIT's Spark Initiative."

"Oh my god! They only take five people in the whole country! You're so getting in!"

I stared at that stack of papers with ice in my veins.

That was the core algorithm I had spent an entire year coding late into the night.

I had left in such a rush yesterday that I only grabbed the external drive with the root code; the physical first draft was left in my desk drawer.

I didn't expect her to not only steal it but actually have the nerve to use it for MIT.

"Sis!" Aria's sharp eyes caught me, and she immediately squeezed through the crowd. "You're not mad at me, are you? I know you're upset about the Stanford thing, but I promise I'll work hard for both of us. I'll even put both our names on this model."

"Aria, why are you being so nice to her? She ruined her own Stanford recommendation, why should she get to piggyback on your hard work?"

"Right? I heard she threw a tantrum and ran away from home last night just for attention. So pathetic." Another girl rolled her eyes, purposely raising her voice.

"Her own sister suffered so much out on the streets, and instead of feeling guilty, she’s just violently jealous. What a psycho."

The crowd instantly shot me judgmental glares, looking at me like I was the wicked stepsister jealous of her twin's brilliance.

I didn't say a word. I just pulled out my phone and, right in front of her face, dragged the numbers for my parents, Carter, and Aria straight to the block list, one by one.

"Sis, you..." Aria's fake smile froze on her face.

I ignored her, shoved past the crowd, and headed straight for the office at the end of the hall.

I pushed the door open. Dr. Mercer was wearing his reading glasses, scowling at a wall of data on his monitor.

He was the only person in this school who didn't give a damn about the Gallagher family name. He was also an absolute academic heavyweight—the former Chief Scientist for DARPA before he "retired" to teaching.

"Heard you threw away the Stanford recommendation," Dr. Mercer said without looking up, his tone impossible to read.

"I didn't expect you to be so reckless. How could you be so careless with your own future—" He slammed his hand on the desk, anger finally flaring.

"That wasn't my endgame." I pulled out a chair, sat down, and slid my external hard drive across his desk. "That national-level quantum computing pre-research project you mentioned last week? I finished rewriting the underlying architecture."

Dr. Mercer's fingers paused over his keyboard.

"Do you have any idea the clearance level and the sheer difficulty of that project? If you join, you won't even have time to go to your high school prom."

"I don't need a prom." I met his eyes, my gaze dead cold. "I just need a platform that lets me cut out the trash from my life for good."

Dr. Mercer stared at me for a solid ten seconds.

Suddenly, he chuckled.

"Good girl. Go lock the door." He plugged my hard drive into his tower. "Let's see just how far you can go."