Chapter 7: The Price of Survival

Ryan’s cruelty only got worse.

My lunchbox—carefully packed by the housekeeper—hid thumbtacks under my sandwich.

My fancy cleanser and toothpaste oozed dead spiders when I squeezed them.

Half my designer dresses ended up with cigarette burns in the closet.

Every time I looked up, Ryan was there, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

He mouthed: [Chloe Sanders, you deserve it.]

He thought I’d cry, but I didn’t. I calmly poured out the thumbtacks, tossed the spiders, and folded my ruined dresses for Goodwill. Ryan’s smile faded, replaced by something almost desperate.

"Let’s see how long you can keep up this act," he spat, low enough for only me to hear.

……

But here’s the twist—this time, I had all the Grant resources.

No more cleaning classrooms at midnight, no more hiding lunch money from a drunken dad. There was a housekeeper for my sheets, a driver to take me anywhere. All I had to do was keep my grades up.

In my old life, I scraped and saved for an SAT book, praying my adoptive father wouldn’t blow it at the casino.

Now, my closet overflowed with Bloomingdale’s dresses, my jewelry box sparkled with Tiffany charms—most of them gifts from Mrs. Grant, who didn’t even remember buying them.

Every month, five grand hit my account, plus a ten-thousand-dollar credit card limit that refilled faster than I could spend it.

And the life I once suffered now belonged to Megan.

She could barely get through a school day without nodding off—her nights spent helping Mrs. Sanders clean. Dark circles grew under her eyes, her homework went unfinished, and she started turning in blank exams.

I remembered drinking black coffee until my hands shook, pricking myself with pushpins just to stay awake for calculus. Megan, used to the easy life, just gave up. For her, snagging Ryan Grant was worth more than a Harvard letter.

She poured all her energy into him: skipping class for love notes, sneaking out to stargaze on the football field.

Then, the night before the dance recital…

She sat outside the rehearsal room, sobbing prettily—chin up, tears glistening but not falling.

Ryan walked by at the perfect moment.

He asked what was wrong, and Megan collapsed in his arms, tears finally spilling.

"Ryan, I lost my spot in the performance. Every other girl got to dance—only Chloe Sanders shut me out."

Ryan, already looking for a reason to hate me, was instantly furious. "Why’d she do that?"

Megan bit her lip, letting tears drip onto his sleeve.

"She said my mom’s a janitor, my dad’s a security guard. I couldn’t afford a costume, so I didn’t belong onstage."

Ryan’s jaw clenched.

"A costume? That’s it? I’ll buy it for you."

Megan shook her head, voice trembling. "It’s eighty dollars. I can’t let you spend that much on me."

Ryan’s anger burned hotter. "Chloe Sanders has no right—"

Megan cut him off, eyes wide and innocent. "She’s your sister now. Your family donates buildings, your dad’s on the board. Even if the teachers saw her bullying me, what could they do?"

Neither noticed the reporter wandering past, notebook in hand, always searching for the next scoop.

He perked up. "Bullying? What bullying?"