Chapter 2: My Revenge Starts With Sushi

He leaned forward, voice trembling with excitement. For a second, he looked like a little kid, desperate for a golden ticket. It was almost sad, how easily he could be fooled.

I nodded, tapped my phone twice, and showed him a news article. It was about Columbia lowering its admission score to recruit a top student’s girlfriend.

I held the screen up for him to see, watching his eyes dart across the headline. He didn’t even read the fine print. Already dreaming of ivy-covered walls.

“If he can do it, so can I,” I promised. “Don’t worry, the two of us will definitely go to the same college.”

My voice was smooth, confident. I watched him relax, his shoulders dropping as relief washed over him. He had no idea I was lying through my teeth.

I was lying to him.

It was almost too easy. He wanted so badly to believe, he never stopped to ask how any of it made sense. I almost felt bad for him—almost.

That top student got Columbia to lower the admission score for his girlfriend because her score was already close to the cutoff. But Dylan?

Dylan was nowhere near the mark. Not even in the same zip code. But that never stopped him.

With a 720 SAT?

He couldn’t even see the gap, let alone cross it. But that didn’t matter to him—not as long as I was willing to do the heavy lifting.

But Dylan didn’t think about it that much. He’d just said a diploma was only a train ticket, but now that he heard he could get into Columbia, he was so happy he could barely sit still.

He bounced in his seat, grinning like he’d already made it. The hypocrisy was almost funny. Suddenly, that train ticket looked a whole lot shinier.

“Cassie, when are you going to talk to the people at Columbia?”

He was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes shining. He had no idea how ridiculous he sounded.

“No rush,” I smiled. “The night after tomorrow, there’s a recruitment gala at Columbia. Come with me.”

I made my voice warm, inviting. Let him think he was part of my plans. In reality, I was already counting down the minutes until I could leave him behind for good.

In my previous life, Dylan dragged me to a drinking party with his buddies, so I missed that gala.

I’d let him convince me that his happiness mattered more than my future. I’d spent the night nursing a warm beer in a smoky basement, while my dreams slipped right through my fingers.

I thought my score was enough for Columbia, and even if I didn’t get admitted early at the gala, it wouldn’t matter. So I let him have his way.

I was so sure everything would work out. I thought hard work would be enough. I was wrong.

Given another chance, I would never let that tragedy repeat. And I wanted Dylan to experience what it felt like to fall from heaven to hell.

This time, he’d get a front-row seat to his own crash. I wanted him to know what it felt like to lose everything you thought you had.

That gala would be the beginning of his downfall.

I could almost taste the anticipation, sweet and sharp. This was my moment—my chance to finally take back control.

I was afraid that if I spent even one more second with Dylan, I’d lose control and kill him. So, after inviting him to the gala, I went straight home.

I could feel my hands shaking as I walked away, adrenaline buzzing in my veins. I needed to get out. Before I did something I’d regret. Home was the only place that felt safe.

At home, my dad was in the kitchen making my favorite barbecue ribs, and my mom was on the phone with relatives, bragging about her parenting skills.

The smell of ribs filled the air, smoky and sweet. My mom’s voice echoed down the hallway, laughter bubbling through the walls. For a moment, I just stood there, soaking it all in. I’d missed this more than I could ever say.

When I came home, my dad said proudly to my mom, “Told you our daughter would come home for lunch today. You said she’d eat out with her friends!”

He grinned at me, eyes twinkling, like he’d just won a bet. My mom rolled her eyes, but I could see the pride in her smile. They were always like this—bickering, joking, loving each other in every word.

“Good thing I didn’t listen to you, or the ribs wouldn’t be ready in time.”

He waved a spatula at her, mock-stern. My mom just laughed, shaking her head. I felt a lump rise in my throat. This was home—messy, loud, perfect.

I burst into tears with a loud “wah.”

The sob caught me off guard, loud and ugly. My parents froze, shock written all over their faces. For a second, I was a little kid again, crying because the world felt too big, too scary. Just like when I was little.

In my previous life, after Dylan secretly changed my application and emotionally manipulated me into going to that community college, my parents were furious and threatened to cut me off.

I’d never seen them so angry, their voices sharp and brittle. They couldn’t understand why I’d thrown away everything I’d worked for. I couldn’t explain it, not really. The guilt ate at me for years.

I was the one who blocked them first. Not the other way around.

He’d stood behind me, whispering in my ear, telling me they didn’t care about me, that only he understood me. I believed him. I cut them out of my life, thinking I was making a stand. All I did was hurt the people who loved me most.

Later, when I saw Dylan’s true colors, I regretted it and wanted to go home.

I’d sit in our tiny apartment, staring at old family photos, wishing I could pick up the phone and call. But pride kept me silent, and Dylan made sure I stayed isolated.

But Dylan took my phone and wouldn’t let me contact my family. I didn’t even have money for a bus ticket.

He controlled everything—my phone, my money, my freedom. Completely trapped.

I missed my parents so much!

Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, heart aching for the sound of my mom’s laughter, the smell of my dad’s cooking. I’d give anything just to go home.

My parents were startled by my crying, thinking I’d been bullied outside.

They rushed to my side, worry etched into every line of their faces. My mom wrapped her arms around me, my dad hovering awkwardly, unsure what to do. Their love was overwhelming, unconditional.

I wiped my tears and lied, saying I’d just watched a touching movie with my friends. But inside, my hatred for Dylan grew even deeper.

I forced a smile, brushing away the last of my tears. “Just a movie, Mom. I’m fine.” But inside, I was seething. Dylan had taken so much from me, but he’d never take this again. Never again.

I took out my phone and messaged Dylan, saying that after college started, who knew when we’d see each other again, so why not have dinner with his buddies tonight and have everyone get together.

I typed the message quickly, my fingers steady. I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he wasn’t the only one who could play games.

Most of Dylan’s buddies had gone to trade school, and the rest were always at the bottom of the class. This group did everything except anything good or proper.

They were the kind of guys your parents warned you about—loud, reckless, always looking for trouble. Always worried they’d drag Dylan down. Or maybe he’d drag them.

In my previous life, I hated Dylan hanging out with his buddies, always afraid they’d lead him astray. Every time he dragged me to dinner with them, we’d end up fighting.

It was always the same—he’d disappear for hours, come home smelling like cheap beer and cigarettes, and we’d argue until dawn. I thought I could save him, but I was just another casualty. Just another casualty.

Thinking about it now, Dylan hanging out with them was like a raccoon sitting on a trash can—neither had any right to look down on the other.

The image made me snort. They were a perfect match, really—each one dragging the others down, all convinced they were destined for greatness.

This time, I took the initiative to suggest treating his buddies to dinner, and Dylan was surprised, agreeing right away.

His reply came almost instantly, full of exclamation points and emojis. He couldn’t believe his luck. I almost laughed. Too easy.

“Babe, you’re so much more chill now.” Dylan quickly sent me a location. “I’ll take Marcus and the guys to this place.”

He picked a sushi place that cost about eighty bucks per person.

I stared at the address, eyebrows raised. Sushi? For a bunch of high school dropouts? He really thought he was living large. He really thought he was living large.

I lowered my eyes and typed: “Isn’t that too expensive?”

I made my message sound hesitant, like I was worried about the cost. In reality, I was just curious how far he’d push it.

Usually, for student gatherings, pizza or burgers is enough.

Most of our classmates would’ve been happy with a slice and a soda. But Dylan always wanted to impress, even if he couldn’t afford it. Didn’t matter if he could afford it.

“Babe, you got into Columbia. Didn’t the school give you a bonus? I heard it’s over fifteen grand.”

He sent the message with a winking emoji, as if that made it less insulting. Didn’t even try to hide it.

Of course.

I rolled my eyes. He’d always had his hand out, always looking for an angle. I used to think he just wanted to share everything with me. Now I knew better.

In my previous life, Dylan knew I didn’t like hanging out with his buddies, but he always dragged me along because I’d end up paying for everyone.

He’d nudge me under the table, whispering, “You got this, right?” I’d smile and nod, even as my bank account dwindled. I thought I was being generous. I was just being used.

It was ridiculous that I once thought Dylan wanted me to blend into his social circle. After every fight, I’d feel guilty for a long time and buy him lots of gifts.

I’d spend hours picking out the perfect present, hoping it would make things better. It never did. The gifts piled up, but the resentment just kept growing.

My gaze turned cold as I typed: “Let’s do it your way.”

I hit send, my lips curling into a smile. This time, the joke was on him.

Anyway, I wasn’t going to be the one paying this time.

I’d already made arrangements. Let him think he was getting a free ride. He was in for a surprise.

At 7:30 p.m., I arrived at the sushi place right on time.

The place was packed, the smell of wasabi and soy sauce heavy in the air. I walked in, head held high, determined not to let anyone see me sweat.

Inside, Dylan and his buddies were already eating. When they saw me, they all shouted “hey, Cassie!” but no one got up to offer me a seat.

They barely looked up from their plates, mouths full, voices loud. Didn’t expect manners. Still stung.

That was fine—I didn’t want to sit with Dylan anyway, so I took the outermost chair.

I slid into the seat at the edge of the table, putting as much distance between myself and Dylan as possible. Let them have their boys’ club. I was just here for the show.

“Cassie, I heard you scored over fourteen hundred on the SATs. Impressive.”

The compliment was half-hearted, tossed out between bites of sushi. I could hear the envy lurking beneath the words.

“What’s the use of fourteen hundred?” Marcus, Dylan’s closest buddy, sneered. “Isn’t she still going to the same college as Dyl?”

His voice was loud, mocking. The others snickered, glancing at Dylan for approval. I kept my face blank, refusing to give them anything.

“Exactly! What’s the use of a girl scoring so high? Could she really bear to leave our boy Dylan?”

The words stung, but I let them roll off me. I’d heard worse. I was done letting their opinions define me.

“Long live seven hundred points—any more is just a waste!”

The table erupted in laughter, the kind that makes your skin crawl. I clenched my fists under the table, nails digging into my palms. But I kept my smile fixed, waiting for my moment.

Every word treated me as Dylan’s accessory, with not a hint of respect.

Just an extension of Dylan’s ego.

And Dylan didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what his buddies said. He was grinning from ear to ear.

He soaked up the attention, basking in their praise. He didn’t care how they talked about me—as long as he was the center of the universe.

I was so angry my nails dug into my palms, but I kept a mocking smile on my face. “Oh, didn’t Dylan tell you? I am going to the same college as him, but not the community college you mentioned. It’s Columbia.”

I let the words hang in the air, watching their faces shift from smug to stunned. It was almost worth all the pain, just to see them squirm.

“Once Dylan goes to Columbia, he probably won’t have time to hang out with you guys anymore, so this meal is a farewell dinner.”

I raised my glass, toasting to the end of an era. Let them chew on that for a while.

The whole room went silent.

For once, I had their full attention.

Marcus, who’d been laughing the loudest, stared at Dylan in disbelief and asked, “Dyl, you’re really going to Columbia? Didn’t you only score a little over seven hundred?”

His voice was sharp, suspicious. He didn’t like being left behind, especially not by someone like Dylan.

“You don’t know,” Dylan said smugly, “Columbia can make exceptions for students’ partners. I’m going to the recruitment gala with Cassie the day after tomorrow.”

He puffed out his chest, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“Then let me congratulate you in advance.” Marcus smiled and congratulated Dylan, but I caught a flash of jealousy in his eyes.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes. I could see the calculation, the envy simmering just beneath the surface. Especially by someone like Dylan.

I remembered he scored 769, forty-nine points higher than Dylan.

It must have killed him to see Dylan leapfrog ahead, even if it was just a fantasy. Their friendship was built on competition, not loyalty.

Dylan and his buddies could be summed up by something I saw online: afraid their buddies would suffer, but also afraid their buddies would drive a Tesla.

They wanted everyone to succeed, as long as no one succeeded more than them. A race to the bottom. And they all wanted to win.

They’d been friends for so many years mainly because they were all the same—rolling in the same mud.

They clung to each other, afraid of being left behind, but even more afraid of someone breaking free. It was a toxic kind of loyalty, the kind that keeps you stuck.

Now, Dylan wanted to use me to climb out of that mud pit. How could his buddies let him go so easily?

I could see the gears turning in Marcus’s head, the beginnings of a plan. Not without a fight.

I recalled a small incident from my previous life.

It was a random Tuesday night. Nothing special. Dylan was up for a promotion—his first real shot at moving up. But his buddies talked him into going out drinking. Just to celebrate, they said. He got so wasted he missed work the next day. The promotion slipped through his fingers. He blamed everyone but himself.

About a year after Dylan started working, he had a shot at a promotion. But the night before, he celebrated with Marcus and the others, got drunk, skipped work the next day, and lost the promotion.

It was classic Dylan—always looking for someone else to blame. But the truth was, he never wanted to succeed more than his friends. Safer to fail together than stand out.

This time, now that Marcus knew Dylan was going to Columbia, he’d probably do something even worse.

I could almost see the wheels turning, the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. Marcus wouldn’t let Dylan outshine him—not without a fight.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation.

I smiled to myself, a cold, satisfied smile. Let them tear each other apart. I was done playing the victim.

In my previous life, Dylan dragged me down in the name of love.

He called it love, but it was just control. He wanted me small, dependent, easy to manipulate. I let him do it, thinking I was being loyal. Never again.

This time, I’d let his own choices—and his so-called friends—do the work for me. I’d watch from a safe distance as they pulled him down, just like he tried to do to me. And for the first time in years, I felt free.