Chapter 3

College application season hit, and I didn't waste a single second of it.

In my past life, I missed my Ivy League interviews cleaning up Declan’s gang-related messes.

This time, I was fighting for myself now.

One night at 2 A.M., I went downstairs for a glass of water and caught Declan sneaking out his Rolex watches.

I figured he was scraping together more cash for Kenzie.

I simply stepped back into the shadows and pretended I saw nothing.

I assumed Richard would stay completely blind to it until Declan was fully ruined.

I was wrong.

On Friday afternoon, a deafening slap echoed across the school parking lot.

I stopped in my tracks.

Richard was standing next to his Bentley, his face purple with absolute rage.

He had just backhanded his golden boy right in front of half the student body.

"If you keep hanging around this street-corner trash, you are out of the Crawford family!" Richard roared.

He pointed a shaking finger at Kenzie, who was leaning against a rusty Honda.

This public explosion hadn't happened this early in my past life.

Declan clutched his red cheek, his eyes burning with pure, rebellious fury.

Kenzie just crossed her arms and blew a ring of cigarette smoke, entirely unbothered by the chaos.

Then, Richard’s furious eyes scanned the whispering crowd and locked onto me.

There was nowhere to hide.

I walked over, forcing a calm, neutral expression.

"Richard, there are too many people here. Let's go home and talk," I said quietly.

"Sloane, I want you keeping an eye on him at school," Richard ordered, his voice echoing loudly.

"If you see him near this delinquent again, you call me the exact second it happens."

Declan’s head snapped toward me.

His pupils shrank, and his face twisted into an expression of absolute, murderous betrayal.

He thought I was the one who snitched.

Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, Richard grabbed Declan by the collar.

He shoved his struggling son into the back of the Bentley and slammed the door.

The tires screeched as they drove off, leaving me alone in the lot with Kenzie.

The crowd of students slowly awkwardly dispersed.

Kenzie dropped her cigarette and crushed it forcefully under her combat boot.

She walked up to me, looking me up and down with a vicious sneer.

"What are you, five? Running to daddy to tattle?" she mocked.

I waved the cheap smoke away from my face.

"Your pathetic little drama isn't worth my spit, let alone my time," I replied coldly.

Kenzie’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly scowl.

"You think you're so untouchable in your little glass house," she hissed.

"I'm going to make sure Declan sees the true colors of his bloodsucking family."

"By the time I'm done with him, he won't have a future left to save."

I looked at her, realizing exactly what she was doing.

Declan was in the absolute peak of his teenage rebellion.

All he needed was one little push, and he would do something completely irreversible.

That night, the Crawford mansion felt like an active warzone.

Richard had locked Declan inside the basement entertainment room.

He threatened to pull Declan from the state finals entirely if he didn't end things with Kenzie immediately.

Declan, desperate to sneak out for a date, completely lost his mind.

I walked downstairs to get a glass of water from the bar.

My biological mother, Vivienne, was backed into a corner, screaming in terror.

Declan was standing in the center of the room, gripping a solid aluminum baseball bat.

He was aiming it directly at his own right arm.

His million-dollar throwing arm.

"Go tell my dad!" Declan screamed at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

"Tell him if he doesn't unlock that door right now, I'll smash this arm to pieces!"

"I'll destroy his precious quarterback!"

In my past life, Vivienne had shoved me forward to save him.

I had thrown my body over his arm, taking the brutal hit to my own ribs and head.

I suffered a minor concussion just to protect his stupid, fragile dream.

This time, I didn't move a single muscle to stop him.

I walked calmly over to the mahogany pool table, picking up a folded piece of thick felt cloth.

"Here, use this to pad it," I said gently.

Declan froze, the bat trembling in the air as he stared at me in horror.

"Make sure you aim right for the bone," I whispered. "Don't just bruise the soft tissue. If you're going to break it, break it completely."

His jaw dropped, but his shock quickly twisted into a furious, defensive snarl.

"You think I won't do it?!" he roared, his grip tightening on the wood. "You think I don't have the guts?!"

I just kept smiling, perfectly still, without making a single move to stop him.

His own stupid pride had already hijacked his brain.

With a guttural scream, he swung the bat down.