From a poor girl to a wealthy heiress, I became the center

"You always greet houseguests by snapping their wrists, Victoria?" Jason asked.

Victoria ripped her hand away from my arm like she’d touched a live wire. She tucked a blonde strand behind her ear, her face morphing from feral rage into a sweet, glossy pout in under two seconds.

"Jason! Don't be ridiculous," she said, her voice light. "We were just having a sisterly disagreement. You know how family is."

Jason leaned his broad frame against the frame of the doorway. He glanced at the red crescent marks Victoria’s nails had left in my skin, then met my eyes. "Didn't look like much of a conversation."

"I was just leaving," I said, stepping past him into the corridor.

"Vivian, wait," Victoria called out, her voice tight with panic. "Take my tablet. Tell Mom I'll be home for dinner."

I didn't answer.

Jason didn't move an inch to let me by comfortably, forcing me to brush against the rough nylon of his team jacket. Up close, he smelled like cold ice and peppermint. His dark eyes tracked every step I took down the hall.

The next morning, the campus courtyard was packed.

I sat at a stone table near the fountain, reviewing my chemistry syllabus. A shadow fell over the page.

"There you are, sweet sister!"

Victoria dropped onto the bench beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Her designer perfume hit me like a wall. Across the grass, a cluster of hockey players walked toward the athletic hall, with Jason leading the pack.

"Get your arm off me," I muttered, not looking up from my binder.

"Smile for the crowd, gutter rat," she whispered through a locked grin. "Look, Jason's watching."

She squeezed my shoulder harder, raising her voice so it carried across the lawn. "I packed you an extra matcha latte from the café, Vivian! I know how tough your transition from foster care has been. We have to stick together, right?"

Jason stopped on the stone path fifty yards away. His eyes narrowed on Victoria’s arm draped over me. Beside him, two players laughed at something on a phone, but Jason remained completely still, staring right through her performance.

"Nice show," I said, shoving her arm off my neck. "Go find Damon. Maybe he’ll clap for you."

Victoria’s jaw snapped shut. She stood up abruptly, brushing down her pleated skirt. "Watch your tongue."

She turned on her heel and marched straight toward the athletic complex.

Ten minutes later, I walked behind the bleachers toward the science lab. A harsh whisper stopped me in my tracks.

"Ethan, stop being paranoid," Victoria was saying, her voice muffled by the metal risers. "Nothing happened with Jason. He just walked into the wrong room."

"You were shaking, Vic," Ethan’s voice answered, rough and agitated. "And who the hell was that girl?"

"She's nobody! Just the lost Sterling orphan my parents dragged home out of pity," Victoria pleaded, her tone dripping with fake innocence. "Ethan, baby, look at me. You're the only one I want. Don't let her get between us."

A wet sound followed—mouths pressing together, desperate and hurried.

I shook my head and kept walking. Rich kids playing cheap games.

My phone vibrated in my pocket an hour later during lecture.

*Unknown Number: Don't trust a single word she says.*

I stared at the screen.

*Me: Who is this?*

*Unknown Number: Ethan. Victoria’s playing both sides. She's been sleeping with Damon behind my back for months.*

I leaned back against my chair, typing quickly.

*Me: Why are you telling me? Go confront her.*

The response popped up immediately.

*Ethan: Because she's using me to keep up appearances for our families. And because I don't want her anymore. I want you, Vivian.*

A dry laugh escaped my throat, drawing a glare from the professor.

*Me: I'm not a trophy to help you get revenge on your girlfriend, Cole. Delete my number.*

*Ethan: It's not revenge. We’ve met before. Check your messages.*

A photo file loaded onto the screen.

It was an old, faded Polaroid. A little boy with messy brown hair sat on a rusted swing next to a skinny little girl with dark hair and skinned knees. The girl wore a hospital wristband from St. Jude’s Children's Clinic.

*Ethan: Summer 2011. You were in temporary placement in county care while I was visiting my aunt. You bit my hand because I tried to steal your juice box. I recognized your eyes the second you walked into that suite yesterday.*

My fingers locked over the screen. The date matched. The clinic matched.

"Miss Sterling, is your screen more captivating than organic chemistry?" the professor barked.

"No, sir," I said, shoving the phone face down onto the desk.

When evening arrived, the ocean breeze turned freezing. I walked out of the campus library toward the north gates, pulling my denim jacket tight around my ribs.

Headlights cut through the gloom. A heavy black pickup truck slowed to a crawl beside the sidewalk. The passenger window rolled down.

"Get in," Jason said from behind the wheel.

"I can walk," I replied, keeping my pace.

"It’s three miles to your parents' gate and forty degrees outside," he said evenly. "Stop being stubborn."

Before I could answer, another figure stepped out from the shadows of the campus gate.

Ethan Cole stood on the curb, his hands shoved deep into his bomber jacket. He looked right past Jason's truck, fixing his gaze on me.

"Vivian," Ethan called out. "Did you see the picture? We need to talk."

The truck engine revved sharply. Jason slammed the gear into park and stepped out into the cold night air, his broad shoulders blocking Ethan’s path completely.

"Back off, Cole," Jason said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register.

Ethan sneered, stepping up until their chests almost collided. "Stay out of this, King. This is between me and Vivian. Victoria doesn't own me, and you don't own the campus."

"I don't give a damn about Victoria," Jason said, towering over Ethan. He tapped a finger against Ethan’s collarbone with enough force to make the soccer player rock back on his heels. "Don't treat her as the next pawn in your game. Walk away before I put you on the pavement."

Ethan's fists clenched at his sides. He glanced past Jason's shoulder at me, his jaw pulsing.

"This isn't over," Ethan spat, turning around and vanishing into the fog toward the athletic dorms.

Jason turned back to me, opening the passenger door. "Get in the truck, Vivian. I’m not asking twice."

I climbed inside. The cab was warm, smelling faintly of leather and pine. Neither of us spoke for the first mile.

"You don't need to fight my battles," I said, staring out at the passing streetlights.

"Wasn't a battle," Jason replied, keeping his eyes on the road. "Cole's a coward who likes playing the victim."

"And what are you?"

Jason shifted gears smoothly, his knuckles grazing near my knee. "Someone who hates watching people get cornered."

By midnight, the peace shattered.

My phone exploded with notifications. Fifty messages in two minutes.

I opened the university's anonymous student forum.

Pinned right to the top of the feed was a photo of me standing near Ethan by the campus gates, taken from a distance.

The title read:

*The foster rat strikes. Guess stealing the family name wasn't enough—she’s trying to steal her sister's boyfriend too.*

The comments poured in like sewage.

*She belongs in the trash.*

*Poor Victoria, welcoming her home just to get stabbed in the back.*

*Someone kick her out of this school.*

My bedroom door rattled. My phone buzzed in my hand with a direct message.

*Jason: I saw the forum. Say the word, and I'll make the administrators wipe the board and find who posted it.*

I typed back without hesitation.

*Me: Don't touch it. I don't need a man to prove I'm innocent.*

I tossed the phone onto the duvet, pacing across the polished hardwood floor. If Victoria wanted a war, she was going to get one. I grabbed my laptop, intending to pull the surveillance logs from the student hotel to expose Ethan and Victoria together.

Then, an unknown number sent a media attachment.

A thirty-second video clip.

I hit play.

The camera angle was hidden behind the grand staircase of the Sterling mansion, pointed into the living room.

Victoria was on her knees on the Persian rug, clutching Eleanor’s hands, mascara streaming down her cheeks in ragged tracks. Richard Sterling stood over them, his face dark as thunder.

"She cornered Ethan, Mom," Victoria sobbed, her voice cracking with theatrical agony. "She told him she was going to take everything that belongs to me—him, the family, the money. Vivian wants to destroy our entire family!"