That One Item Changed Everything

Three Seconds

I stared at the jar of face cream with a chunk gouged out of it, then dropped it straight into the trash.

Louisa shrieked instantly. “Mallory, are you insane, you spoiled brat?”

She jumped off the bed and nearly dove into the trash can. "I just looked it up online. The jar alone costs thousands, and you’re just throwing it away? Give it to me. I can at least use it on my feet!”

“Anything your filthy hands touched disgusts me,” I said coldly, and walked out without sparing her another glance.

Behind me, her voice blended with the other roommate’s snide laughter. “Unbelievable… Rich people don’t even treat money like money.”

…

Early the next morning, just as I was heading to the field for orientation camp assembly, the student counselor stopped me with a grim expression. "Mallory, come to my office."

The moment I stepped inside, I saw Louisa sitting there with her eyes puffy from crying. The second she saw me, her shoulders started trembling pathetically, as if I had done something terrible to her.

The student counselor cleared his throat. "Ms. Leighton, Louisa already told me everything."

His tone carried a hint of reproach. "As fellow students, you should try to understand each other. Even if it was your own item, throwing it away right in front of her was too hurtful.

"Do you have any idea how difficult her family situation is? Doing something like that is no different from shaming her outright."

I almost laughed. “So, I’m not allowed to throw away my own belongings?”

"That's not what I meant," he said sharply. “She only used a little of your cream. You hit her. Why escalate it?”

Louisa squeezed out fresh tears. “It’s my fault, sir. I just saw she had so much… I thought I’d help her use a little…”

"Help me?" I interrupted with a cold laugh. "She steals from me, and you call that helping. I throw away my property, and that’s humiliation. She slashed my family photo and pointed at my father’s face while calling my mother a homewrecker, but the slap is what matters? Don’t tell me this is the result of your investigation.”

The student counselor instantly turned furious. He slammed the desk and barked, "Enough! This ends here. Go to orientation camp and stop causing trouble."

I walked out with anger burning in my chest.

…

That afternoon's orientation camp drill took place under a scorching sun. The field felt like a giant steamer. My skin reacted badly to prolonged exposure, so I wore the sun-protection jacket my father had prepared for me.

Its fabric was engineered with a special coating and blocked UV rays dozens of times better than anything sold on the market—and its price matched.

During the break, everyone else was flushed red and sweating buckets. I was the only one who still looked relatively fresh, aside from a light sheen on my forehead.

Louisa's gaze landed on me. Suddenly, she shot to her feet, pointed at my jacket, and yelled loud enough to rattle the whole field. "Everyone, look at what Mallory's wearing!"

People turned toward me instinctively.

Her voice dripped with poison. “That jacket costs tens of thousands. Know where she got the money? Sleeping with old men. She acts innocent, but who knows how dirty she really is behind the scenes?”

Whispers rippled outward. Eyes turned sharp and suspicious. The air around me went cold.

I stood and walked right up to her. "Louisa, you have three seconds to apologize."