$130 from Mom, Breakup from Him

I gave a slow, easy smile, pulling my phone from my bag. Opening Twitter, I scrolled to The Masked Diva’s official account and held it out toward them.

“Take a look at this.”

On the screen was her latest post:

“Invited to perform at Columbia University’s Campus Singer Competition next week. Can’t wait to see you all~”

The attached photo showed her in the signature silver mask, the unmistakable Columbia University crest in the background.

Chloe’s face drained of color, her lips trembling. “Th-this… this can’t be! How could she possibly…”

Ryan froze as well, staring at the screen in disbelief. “You photoshopped that, right?!”

I withdrew my phone with a light smile. “Is it edited? You can find out for yourself. I’m not exactly skilled enough to hack her account.”

Oh, but I was more than skilled enough.

Chloe’s composure finally cracked. She shot to her feet, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Vanessa Carter! Stop with the smoke and mirrors! You know the Masked Diva? Who do you think you are?!”

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know her. I just happen to follow her account.”

Realizing they’d been played, Ryan clenched his jaw. “Chloe, ignore her! She’s just bluffing!”

Chloe took a deep breath, forcing down her anger, and sneered. “Fine. Then we’ll see who embarrasses themselves next week.”

With that, she yanked Ryan away, her heels pounding against the floor like she was trying to smash it.

I watched their backs, the corner of my lips curling.

Embarrassed?

Next week, I’d show them the true meaning of the word.

On the day of the competition, I declined my assistant’s offer to drive me to the venue.

Instead, I pulled my long-neglected McLaren out of the garage—the one that had been gathering dust for being too flashy.

My father had taught me to keep a low profile all these years—but not so I could sit back and take hits without striking back.

“Holy crap! A McLaren?!”

“There can’t be more than three in the whole city—someone at our school owns one?”

When I pushed the door open and my crystal-studded Valentino heels touched the pavement, the crowd fell silent for a few seconds.

“V–Vanessa?!” someone gasped.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like a wave.

“Wasn’t she supposed to be broke, carrying fake bags?”

“That car’s worth over a million… where did she get the money?”

Sliding my sunglasses up onto my head, I grabbed my bag and headed toward the competition hall, ignoring the chatter.

As I reached the steps, I came face to face with Ryan and Chloe.

For a moment, she looked startled—then her gaze shifted past me to the Porsche parked nearby, and her expression twisted in amusement.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our little princess,” she said in a shrill voice. “How much to rent a supercar for the day? Does your mom’s construction pay cover the deposit?”

Ryan snorted. “Vanessa, there’s a limit to pretending. You didn’t—what?—get so desperate after I dumped you that you started… working the streets?”

Chloe burst out laughing, nearly doubling over.

“Don’t be so mean, Ryan. With her looks, finding some sucker willing to buy her a McLaren? That’d be a miracle. Don’t tease her where she’s weakest.”

I stopped, reached into my bag, and slowly pulled out my car key. In full view of both of them, I pressed the unlock button.

Beep—

The McLaren’s lights flashed twice, and the gullwing doors lifted smoothly into the air.