Spring Break, and the old college group chat suddenly blew up. Jessica Miller was bragging, practically shouting through the screen: "Guess what? I'm engaged to Brandon Prescott! You know, the eldest son of the Prescott family? This weekend, I'm going to the family estate to meet everyone, get the whole official welcome. Get ready for wedding invites soon!" Everyone immediately started kissing up to her, blowing smoke like crazy. Then, like clockwork, they ganged up to tag me: "Unlike some people, who not only kiss up to their advisors but probably sleep with them too." I just scoffed and didn't reply. It was the same old garbage. All because I accidentally walked in on her getting way too cozy with our married academic advisor, she flipped it and spread rumors that I was the one having an affair with him. Pathetic. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Arthur Prescott himself, the patriarch of the Prescott dynasty: "Ma'am, my grandson's fiancée is visiting the estate tomorrow to be formally introduced and added to the family records. We'd be honored if you could join us." Yeah, nobody ever believes it. That the most senior member of the Prescott family, the one who literally holds the pen for the family registry, the one sitting on billions, is a twenty-two-year-old college student. Me. … The moment I stepped out of the Rolls-Royce Mr. Prescott sent for me and stood before the grand entrance of the ancestral home, I tilted my head back, looking up at the old stone archway. Walking inside, I headed towards the back gardens. But then, from a secluded spot deep within the old wooded area near the edge of the property, I heard… sounds. Soft moans. My curiosity piqued, I crept closer, quiet as a mouse. Leaves rustled in the breeze, and through a gap, I saw them. My eyes widened. I stared hard at the woman. It was Jessica, looking flushed, wrapped around some guy I didn't recognize. They were all over each other. Her eyes met mine. She instantly shoved the man away. She froze, frantically smoothing her clothes, then shot me a look so full of venom it could curdle milk. Then they both scrambled away. I was confused, but Mr. Prescott’s future granddaughter-in-law was arriving today. I decided to keep quiet for now. A little while later, as I was about to enter the main house where the family gathers, I noticed a forgotten broom lying near the entrance path. I bent down to pick it up. As I straightened and walked into the main hall, I was met with bursts of laughter. I looked up, and my eyes locked with Jessica’s. I frowned slightly. Jessica blinked, then her eyes raked over me from head to toe. She smirked at her gaggle of friends clustered behind her, then crossed her arms and sauntered towards me. She glanced pointedly at the broom in my hand, then back at my face. "Well, well," she sneered. "Look who it is. Our esteemed student body president, moonlighting as a cleaning lady at the Prescott estate. And here I thought you were so high and mighty." Her friends behind her burst into mocking laughter. The sound grated on my ears. My nails dug into my palms. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, keeping my voice low. A flicker of pure nastiness crossed Jessica’s face before one of her friends jumped in. "Jessica is going to be the future Mrs. Prescott, you idiot. This is the Prescott family home. Naturally, she'll be your boss soon enough." Another one linked arms with Jessica, practically dripping fake sweetness. "Oh, Jessica, I wish I had your luck! Marrying into the Prescott family… all that money and status…" Jessica soaked it up, a smug little smile playing on her lips. I dropped my gaze, stepping around them towards the main room. I couldn't resist a cold chuckle. "He must be blind then," I muttered, "ending up with someone like you." Suddenly, a hand clamped down hard on my arm. "What did you say?! Did I say you could leave?" Jessica blocked my path. Her friends quickly surrounded me, trapping me in the middle. I couldn't move. Before I could react, someone grabbed my hair from behind, yanking me backward. As I struggled, Jessica kicked me hard in the back of my knee. My leg buckled. I crumpled, landing hard on my knees on the polished floor. She crouched down in front of me, gripping my chin, her fingers digging in. A cruel smile spread across her face. "Still sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, aren't you? Seeing things you shouldn't see, saying things you shouldn't say. You just never learn." 2 I thrashed, trying to get away, but Jessica violently shoved me, sending me sprawling onto the floor. She planted her high heel squarely on the back of my hand, the sharp point grinding into my skin. Pain shot up my arm. I could feel the skin break. Jessica’s face was twisted with malice. She placed a hand protectively on her stomach, smiling sweetly. "You know, if you'd just told me you were working here as a cleaner, I could have put in a good word for you." Summoning all my strength, I shoved upwards with my free hand. She stumbled backward, momentarily losing her balance. Her friends gasped and rushed behind her, cushioning her fall. Jessica looked genuinely shaken for a second. Painfully, I pushed myself up. Blood dripped from my hand onto the pristine floor. One of her friends charged forward, kicking me hard in the stomach. I gasped, doubling over, and fell to the floor again. Pain washed over me. Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision. "You little bitch!" Jessica shrieked, grabbing a fistful of my hair. "This baby is the future Prescott heir! Are you trying to kill me? Is that it?" She started slapping me, hard, across the face, again and again. My mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. My ears were ringing. I looked up at her, managing a weak, knowing smile. "Prescott heir? Are you so sure about that?" That hit a nerve. It struck the core of her insecurity. Jessica’s grip loosened slightly. She spun around, trying to regain her composure, projecting false confidence. "Don't you dare spread lies! This baby is a Prescott!" I slowly, shakily, got to my feet again. I laughed softly. "Why so defensive? I never said it wasn't." Her friends exchanged uneasy glances. "You think everyone's as disgusting as you?" Jessica spat, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Going after married advisors? You're just trash." She was dredging up the lie from last year. The Photoshopped pictures she'd plastered all over the campus network. The university, desperate to protect the advisor's reputation, had pinned it all on me, leaving a permanent black mark on my record. Thinking about it made my chest tighten with fury. My eyes found Sarah Chen, standing nervously on the edge of the group. I grabbed her arm, my voice rising. "Sarah! You were right there with me! Tell them the truth!" Sarah lowered her head, trembling. "Sarah, please," I begged, my voice softer now. "Forget about last year. I just need you to tell the truth now. Give me that much." I looked at her, hope flickering inside me. But then Jessica sidled up to Sarah, leaning in and whispering something in her ear. Sarah finally lifted her head. The look she gave me was… unreadable. Troubling. My stomach clenched with dread. Sure enough, when Sarah turned to face the others, she squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, "I saw her! I saw Ava sitting on the advisor's lap!" Jessica let out a triumphant, ugly laugh. I just stood there, stunned. A bitter, hollow smile touched my lips. 3 Jessica gestured to her friends. They closed in on me again, grabbing at my clothes, shoving their phone cameras right in my face. My cries of pain and humiliation only seemed to fuel their amusement. Before I could process what was happening, someone grabbed the broom from near the entrance and swung it hard, hitting me across the back. I tried to fight back, to push them away, but I was outnumbered and weak. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by shame and helplessness. I heard a sharp intake of breath, then the whistle of the broom swinging down again. But instead of hitting me, someone threw themselves in front of me, taking the blow. I twisted my head. It was Sarah, her face pale. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. I shoved her away forcefully. "What kind of act is this now?!" I yelled, tears finally breaking free and streaming down my face despite my anger. Jessica snatched the broom back, her face contorted with rage, and lunged at me again. The blow landed hard. I choked, spitting a spray of blood onto the floor. Suddenly, one of the household staff, an older woman, rushed over. She bowed slightly, wringing her hands. "Miss, please, please stop hitting her!" Jessica grabbed the woman by her uniform collar. "You better think carefully who you're crossing," she hissed. "You piss me off, and you won't have a job here much longer." The housekeeper looked at me with pity, then clutched something in her pocket – her phone? – and scurried back towards the main house. Just then, a sleek Aston Martin pulled up to the front entrance. The first person out was Jessica’s fiancé, Brandon Prescott. He respectfully opened the back door. A man in his sixties, radiating authority and vitality despite his age, stepped out. Arthur Prescott. Jessica saw them and immediately switched gears, pressing a hand to her mouth in mock fragility. "See?" she whispered loudly to her friends. "That's the father of my child. The sole Prescott heir." Her friends oohed and aahed, showering her with more fake praise. She glided towards Brandon, pausing beside me to shoot me a venomous look. "You just wait," she whispered. "Brandon won't let you get away with this." She practically collapsed into Brandon’s arms, dabbing at dry eyes. "Honey, you came just in time! They almost killed me and the baby!" Brandon’s chest puffed out. He glared around furiously. "Who dared touch you?" he roared. Jessica burrowed her head into his chest, a tiny, triumphant smile hidden from his view. She clutched her stomach, leaning heavily on him. "Brandon," she whimpered, "my stomach hurts so much." Her friends immediately pointed at me. "It was her! She pushed Jessica to the ground!" Brandon’s icy gaze fixed on me. He strode over and planted his foot firmly on my shoulder, pinning me down. "Who the hell gave you the nerve?" he growled. His presence was overwhelming, radiating power and menace. Behind him, the older Mr. Prescott tapped his cane impatiently on the ground. His voice was stern, commanding. "Brandon! What is this behavior? Right at the entrance?" Brandon shot me one last glare before reluctantly removing his foot. Jessica immediately turned to the grandfather, playing the victim again. "Grandpa, she almost killed your great-grandchild!" Mr. Prescott patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, dear. I'll make sure justice is served. But we have more important matters to attend to right now." A strange feeling washed over me. I struggled to lift my head, meeting Mr. Prescott’s eyes. My voice was hoarse. "Did you invite me back here just so I could be publicly humiliated?" The moment the words left my mouth, Mr. Prescott’s cane slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the stone pathway. His face went slack with shock. He stumbled towards me, his body trembling. He knelt, peering closely at my bruised and bloody face. Then, he gasped and collapsed backward, sitting heavily on the ground. "M-Ma'am," he stammered, his voice choked with disbelief. "Ma'am!" Brandon quickly picked up the cane and rushed to his grandfather's side, helping him up. "Grandpa? What's wrong?" Mr. Prescott snatched the cane back and, without warning, swung it hard against Brandon’s legs. Brandon yelped and buckled, falling to his knees right in front of me. "You blind fool!" the old man roared. Then, Arthur Prescott, head of the Prescott dynasty, bowed his head low before me, his shoulders shaking. Tears streamed down his face. "Ma'am," he choked out, "it's my failure… my failure in raising him… letting this animal hurt you… Punish me, Ma'am. Whatever you see fit… I won't object…"
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