He gave me $15,000 a month for living expenses. Because I knew how to manage money, I turned that $15,000 into $50,000. His only rule was: never let my half-sister find out I exist. 1 The first time I met my sister was on Freshman Orientation day. I was a junior; she was a freshman. My dad personally dropped her off at the university gates in a stretch Rolls-Royce. The moment it pulled up, it blinded half the student body. The gleaming black, streamlined body looked like a magnificent jewel under the sun. But more dazzling than the Rolls-Royce was my dad’s refined, scholarly look, my sister’s stunning, pampered arrogance, and Mrs. Sterling’s head-to-toe diamond-encrusted aura. "That's Summer Sterling! She’s gorgeous!" "Well, it pays to be rich. Her dad heavily favors her. He had to donate a whole new science center just to get her admitted." "Why would she even need to try? Her starting line is a finish line most people couldn't reach in ten lifetimes." …… "Chloe, what are you zoning out for? Aren't you supposed to welcome her?" the student next to me nudged my arm. I snapped back to reality, gathered my composure, took the freshman roster, and walked toward the family of three with a polite smile. My dad saw me early on. He gave me a faint, sweeping glance, his eyes resting on me for barely a fraction of a second before moving away, as if we were strangers. Then, looking at me again, his eyelid twitched violently. Heh. Was he scared I was going to walk up and call him Dad? "Hi, Summer. I'm Chloe Davies. We're in the same major. I'm a junior, and I'll be your orientation guide today." I stood in front of Summer Sterling and extended my right hand. She looked at me, her expression haughty and entirely scrutinizing. After a few seconds, she barely tapped my hand with her fingertips, as if doing me a massive favor. I raised an eyebrow slightly and flashed a sweet smile at my dad and Mrs. Sterling. "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. I'll take you to the dorms first so we can drop off the luggage." Throughout the entire process, whether it was Summer or her parents, they acted as mere spectators. Unpacking luggage, making the bed, and handling paperwork were strictly tasks for the hired help. Aside from playing tour guide, I occasionally lent the staff a hand. My three other roommates awkwardly huddled in the corner of the room at first, intimidated by the Sterling family's grand display, before finally just slipping out of the dorm. Once everything was settled, Summer tilted her chin up at me, bossy as ever. "Hey, you! What’s-your-name. AirDrop me your contact info. From now on, if I need anything, you run errands for me." I was taken aback by the "Hey," and even more shocked by her casually demanding I run her errands. I couldn't help but shoot my dad a glance: This is how the Sterlings raise their kids? Simultaneously, I pulled up my phone's contact QR code, handed it to Summer, and smiled. "Summer, my name is 'Chloe Davies,' not 'Hey.' You can call me Chloe. If there's something you don't understand, you can ask me. But you do your own chores. Nobody here is your errand runner." She scoffed, rolling her eyes at me, and muttered, "You don't know what's good for you. You're just two years ahead, what's the big deal?" "Nothing much," I said, suppressing my temper. "Just a perfect SAT score, a full-ride merit scholarship without needing to donate a lab, and I'm the current Student Body President. That's all." Summer glared at me, about to explode, when my dad suddenly barked, "Summer!" The voice of a man used to giving orders. Imposing and absolute. 2 I am an illegitimate child. My dad's last name is Sterling. My last name is Davies. I took my mom's name. My mom wasn't a mistress. She was screwed over by my dad. Back then, my mom was pregnant with me, and their families were already discussing wedding details. But then, a wealthy heiress took a second look at my dad. My dad, a gambler at heart, decisively abandoned my mom and went after the heiress. He was handsome, a smooth talker, and knew how to play the game. Among the heiress's many suitors, he came out on top. From then on, my dad leaped across social classes. With Mrs. Sterling's backing, in just ten short years, a guy with a mediocre teaching degree transformed into the CEO of Apex Pharmaceuticals. As for my mom, she became a high school literature teacher. Back then, being "unmarried, pregnant, and abandoned" subjected her to endless judgment. It was hard to find a suitable man to marry. Eventually, after the sheer exhaustion of raising me all by herself, she didn't even want to get married anymore. My dad didn't seek us out until I was a sophomore in high school. He said he wanted to compensate us, offering $15,000 a month. My mom didn't refuse. She told him to deposit it directly into my account. 3 That night, my dad called me. "I'm sorry about what happened today," he said. "Summer has been spoiled rotten by her mother. Don't take it to heart." "When did you become Student Body President?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have celebrated with you." "Do you have enough money? If not, just tell Dad." He also added, "Summer has never liked studying. Since you're in the same major, guide her a bit if you get the chance." …… What was I supposed to say? Was this a trap? What was the 100% correct answer? Only he knew if he actually wanted me to keep my distance or truly guide her. So, I replied, "Within my limits, if we happen to cross paths, I'll do my best." He hung up, satisfied. I opened my texts. The Sterling princess had already bombarded me with messages since the evening: "Think you're so great 'cause of your SAT scores? Think being Student Body President makes you special? Bullshit! If I throw a hundred grand at the school, they'll kick your ass out of that seat!" "Are you out of your fucking mind? Making me look bad in front of my parents, getting me scolded..." She didn't finish that thought. I guessed her parents tore into her. "If you don't roll over here right now and beg for my forgiveness, I might consider letting this go." "Chloe Davies, don't test me! I already gave you a chance! Think about what major you're in. With one word, I can make sure you never find a job in this industry for the rest of your life!" So arrogant and domineering. No wonder none of the other guides wanted to take her when we saw her name on the list, despite knowing she was the heiress to a pharma empire. I rubbed my temples. I actually felt a little sorry for my dad, having a daughter like this. "Miss Sterling, read a history book in your spare time. Learn how to act like a decent human, so you don't end up ruining yourself," I replied. "Bitch! I'll teach you how the real world works!" she texted back, practically foaming at the mouth. 4 I called Harper, a girl from Summer's high school who was a year ahead of her. When the freshman assignments came out, she had strongly advised us to drop Summer like a hot potato. "Harper, how much do you know about Summer? Can you give me the rundown?" "Chloe, don't tell me she's already bullying you?" she asked cautiously, and before I could answer, she spilled everything like a broken dam. "I told you guys, whoever gets near her is cursed! She is pure evil!" "Back at our prep school, everyone knew her. We never had a 'school bully' before she arrived. After she came, everyone learned exactly what the word meant!" "She's a monster. She was always top three in her class—except for the SATs. People did her homework. People let her cheat on tests. If they got an answer wrong or the work was too tedious, she'd have them beaten." "Once, she got caught cheating by a proctor and was publicly disciplined. Guess what? The next day, that teacher was beaten so badly with a baseball bat that he ended up in the hospital." "The guys who did it were street thugs. When the cops caught them, they claimed they just didn't like the teacher's face. They never breathed a word about Summer." "Throughout high school, whoever she liked had to break up with their girlfriend. Otherwise, the guy would be fine, but the girl's life would become a living hell." "Throwing backpacks out of windows, putting dead rats or snakes in desks, pouring food on people, forcing them to jump into the pool in winter—those were the light punishments." "Junior year, she liked a guy in our class. He had a girlfriend, and they refused to break up. Later, one night after late study hall, the girl was walking home and got dragged into a construction site..." Harper started to choke up, needing a long moment before continuing. "The girl was hospitalized for a long time. Afterward, she was admitted to a psychiatric ward... She was my best friend. Her grades were better than mine, she was Ivy League material... She didn't even get to take her final exams..." "I'll hate Summer Sterling for the rest of my life! She relies on her family's money and thinks she can get away with anything!" …… I hung up the phone, my fingers still pressing deeply into my forehead. 5 Half a month later, Freshman Orientation week ended. The Student Government departments released their lists of new applicants, and I received a synced copy. Glancing through it, I actually saw Summer's name. Her department of choice was the "Academic Affairs Committee." The main duties of this department were: hosting academic lectures and seminars, gathering cutting-edge industry information, organizing major competitions, and evaluating scholarship grants. I didn't believe for a second she was interested in any of this, let alone serving her fellow students. I tapped my finger against the spreadsheet a few times. I didn't delete her name, nor did I make any phone calls to inform anyone. Three days later, the departments finalized their preliminary screening lists, and Summer's name was still there. So, this is her showing me "how the real world works"? I was surprised, though. Whether during the prep meetings or move-in day, Summer hadn't exactly left a glowing impression. Was my department really planning to take on this ticking time bomb? Emma, the VP of our department, lived on my floor, just three doors down. I went straight to her room. "I knew you'd come," Emma said, not looking surprised at all. Summer's application was sitting on top of a stack. She handed it to me. "Her pitch is too attractive! I discussed it with the board, and bringing her in has more pros than cons. So what if she's a spoiled brat? We just tolerate it." I skimmed the application. It was written in pristine corporate jargon, clearly drafted by a secretary at her dad's company. The main points were: Leveraging her family's resources to: A. Invite top industry authorities or pharma executives for academic lectures at least twice a semester; B. Share cutting-edge industry research and development data collected by their enterprise; C. Sponsor an additional $50,000 in scholarships and $50,000 for student council activity funds annually; D. Provide no fewer than 10 prime internship positions at Apex Pharma every semester... Absolute financial firepower. I looked at Emma. Her eyes were practically sparkling with ambition. I understood. If she pulled this off, it would be a massive resume booster for her. "Think carefully before you decide. Don't stand under a crumbling wall," I advised. "As a rule, I don't interfere with internal department hiring." Then, I snapped a photo of Summer's application and sent it to my dad. Half an hour later, he replied: "It's rare she's showing ambition. Let her get some experience." Exactly what I expected. Sending the photo was just a courtesy notice. Let her have her stage. Let's see how big of a disaster she can create. 6 In the subsequent interview rounds, Summer didn't even show up. Yet, she entirely bypassed the entry-level roles and was directly appointed "Co-VP of Academic Affairs." In her actual classes—despite skipping orientation and barely attending lectures—she also snagged the title of "Class Academic Representative." She posted a brag on Instagram: "Keep your chin up, or the crown slips." The attached photo was from a past birthday gala, where she wore a backless evening gown, one hand adjusting a diamond-encrusted tiara. She photoshopped two smaller crowns next to it, labeling one "Student Council VP" and the other "Class Representative." She made sure to tag me. What was I supposed to say? Someone who had to "buy" her way in, effortlessly getting what others worked years for, purely based on family resources. I didn't even want to say "Congratulations." Unsatisfied, Summer DM'd me the photo directly. — "Fifty grand. I want your position. Are you stepping down, or do I have to make you?" This was the funniest joke I'd ever heard. Did she really think a university's Student Body President title was something you could just buy and sell? — "Miss Sterling, I told you earlier, read a history book. Even in feudal societies, you couldn't always buy official titles." Besides, my term was up eventually, and it wasn't up to me who took over. — "I'll add the hundred grand I mentioned last time." The chat showed "typing..." for a long time. Two minutes later, a short message popped up: "Fine! $150,000 it is! You resign tomorrow and nominate me." I stared at my phone and laughed out loud. "Miss Sterling, wash up and go to sleep. You can have anything you want in your dreams. This is a university, not your dad's company." Summer lost her mind and called me immediately. "Chloe Davies, are you fucking playing me?! It's just a Student President title, you think I actually care?! Let me tell you, if I wanted to, I could own this whole school!" Her voice was shrill and piercing. I pulled the phone away from my ear. "Are you joking? You think money is omnipotent?" I laughed. "You think you can just change the university's name? Go home and ask your dad if that's actually possible." "Why wouldn't it be?" she screeched. "Money is omnipotent!" "You ants think good grades will make you successful! Success? When you graduate, you'll still just be working for rich people like me!" "Chloe, you've provoked me time and time again. Mark my words, I'll make you regret being born! You better start picking out your coffin!" …… Her voice was so loud my roommates heard every word. They looked at me with worried eyes. I glanced down at the audio recording I had just finished saving, backed it up to three different cloud drives, and comforted my roommates: "Don't worry. We live in a society with laws. She won't dare do anything crazy." 7 Summer didn't dare do anything crazy herself, but she had money. She could hire others to do it for her. One evening, after night classes, my three roommates and I returned to our dorm. The moment we opened the door— Rustle. Something roughly the size of two fists darted across the room. The roommate holding the door froze, her face turning pale. "Did you guys see that? I think it was a rat..." "I saw it," I said, my voice much calmer than hers. We had never had rats in our dorm. I pulled her aside, reached into the room, flicked on the overhead light, and slowly stepped inside. "Rats aren't scary," I said slowly. "Let's grab some bins and make some noise. See if we can scare it out." Before I could finish my sentence— "Ribbit—CROAK—" Everyone froze. The decibel level of that sound rivaled a car horn. It sounded like a bellowing calf mixed with a vibrating drum, coming squarely from behind my roommate's lower bunk! "What is that? Do we call 911 or Animal Control?" someone asked. "Neither," I said, licking my lips. "That's an American Bullfrog. Someone just delivered us a midnight snack." Our entire dorm was full of foodies. Upon hearing it was food, the previous terror evaporated instantly. Four girls—one with a broom, three with plastic bins—started poking, prodding, and happily hunting the bullfrog around the room. "Well, it's still early before curfew. We have time for a late-night snack! I haven't had deep-fried frog legs in forever." "Same! We can take it to that Cajun seafood place down the street. If we order a couple pounds of crawfish and ask them to toss this guy in the fryer, I bet the owner won't even charge extra." "Hey, who sent us the frog anyway? Why didn't they send two?" …… Twenty minutes later, the four of us walked out of the dorm, carrying a shoebox containing our prize. The poor frog croaked miserably inside the cardboard. We had zero sympathy. We chatted and laughed the whole way. When we passed the Dorm Manager's office, I even made sure to wave hello. Mrs. Higgins, the manager, stared at the croaking shoebox for an extra second but didn't ask what it was. 8 We got to the seafood restaurant quickly. The owner enthusiastically agreed to prep and fry the frog for us. I stood by and took pictures, especially after it was prepped, the pale meat sitting on the metal tray. Someone on the other end of my phone was desperately waiting to see me terrified and furious. I wasn't in a rush. Even when she sent a picture of a massive bullfrog with its mouth wide open, looking like a monster, asking if I had been eaten alive, I didn't reply. Until— A steaming basket of Cajun-fried frog legs was brought to the table. I grabbed one with my fork and dipped it in hot sauce. I arranged the plate aesthetically and took one last photo. Then I sent the entire series—catching it, prepping it, frying it, and eating it—to Summer: "Sorry, we ate it... Hey, send more next time, one wasn't enough to go around." Summer replied with a string of raging fire emojis: "Chloe Davies, you just wait!" I replied with a simple "K," and put my phone away. Knowing Summer was likely blowing a gasket on the other end made the meal taste exceptionally delicious. 9 I casually brought Summer up with the Dean to gauge the department's stance on her. I asked casually, he answered casually. "Ah, she's just here to get a diploma. As long as it doesn't get too ugly, we just let her graduate in peace." "I hear she causes a lot of trouble?" "If we can make it go away, it's not trouble." 10 The weekend arrived. My roommates were out shopping or on dates. I’ve been single my whole life and had little interest in typical weekend outings, so I spent the day at the library. Around dusk, I left the library, grabbed a bowl of noodles at the dining hall, and headed back to the dorm. Coincidentally, As I turned the corner onto our floor, I saw my roommate Mia. She was holding a takeout bag in one hand and unlocking the door with the other. "Mia," I called out. "Yeah—" She turned to answer, but her face contorted in absolute horror. She stumbled backward, dropping her food onto the floor with a splat. Immediately, a hysterical scream echoed down the entire hallway. I rushed over. Resting on the doorframe was a massive rat snake, as thick as a baby's wrist, mottled yellow and green, its body trailing down toward the floor. It extended its neck, flicking its tongue, its small, beady black eyes locked onto me. "Snake!" "Snake!" Other students in the hall started screaming and backing away. I wasn't particularly afraid of snakes. Growing up in the countryside, I was bullied so much that I had to develop skin of steel just to survive. I became the toughest kid in the village; catching snakes and toads was second nature. This type of snake was non-venomous, often called a house snake back home. I swayed my body slightly to the left. The snake's head tracked me, its little eyes focused solely on my movement. With a lightning-fast smack, my right hand pinned its head against the frame. My left hand gripped its neck, and my right hand slid down to grab its tail. I lifted it up, holding the tail and neck securely together. The crowd gasped collectively. The looks they gave me were practically overflowing with hero-worship. I glanced into our dorm room. My gut told me there were more inside, so I slammed the door shut and yelled over my shoulder: "Call Campus Security and Animal Control." Then, right in front of everyone, holding the massive snake, I marched straight toward Summer's dorm room.
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