Chapter 5: Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Mason frowned, annoyed. “That’s none of your business. Get back to work.”

His tone was icy, the kind that shut down conversation fast. The branch manager backed away, still smiling nervously. I almost felt bad for him.

The branch manager left with a forced smile.

He disappeared into the back, muttering under his breath. The tension in the room eased a little.

Mason looked at me again. “You just got home—what are you doing here?”

He sounded suspicious, like he expected me to cause trouble. I felt a flicker of old anger.

“Depositing money.”

I kept my voice steady, holding out my envelope. I didn’t owe him an explanation.

I answered honestly and went to grab a number slip.

I took my place in line, ignoring the way he stared at me.

“Depositing money? That birthday cash?” Mason sneered. “I thought you’d give that to Mom and Dad to keep—Ava always does that.”

He crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. His voice dripped with judgment. I kept my face blank.

I didn’t reply.

I kept my eyes on the floor, refusing to rise to the bait. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Mason snorted. “So greedy for money at your age. Just remember, you can be greedy with your own money, but don’t try to get your hands on the family’s!”

He leaned in, voice low. It was a warning, not advice. I felt a cold chill run through me.

He was exactly the same as in my last life.

Nothing had changed. Not him. Not me. Not the space between us.

The first week I came home, a gold necklace went missing.

I remembered the accusations, the way everyone looked at me like I was a thief. It still stung.

Mason was sure I stole it.

He’d made up his mind before anyone asked me what happened. He’d always assumed the worst about me.

He thought I was uneducated, only cared about money, and was a troublemaker. I saw it in every look.

He’d never bothered to know me. Never wanted to.

I never expected that in this new life, before the necklace even went missing, Mason had already condemned me.

It was like he’d been waiting for a reason to hate me. I hadn’t even done anything yet.

But I didn’t argue or care.

I’d learned my lesson. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.

I just deposited my money.

I handed the envelope to the teller, watching the numbers flicker on the screen. My name. My account. My money.

Mason scoffed and left.

He turned on his heel, not bothering to say goodbye. I watched him go, feeling nothing at all.

That night, my parents and Ava were all home.

The house was full of voices—my mom fussing in the kitchen, my dad watching the news, Ava humming as she set the table. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

They were helping me pick a school.

Brochures were spread across the table—shiny, colorful, full of promises. My mom circled options in red pen. My dad muttered about tuition, voice low.

All the brochures were for fancy private schools.

Places with sprawling lawns, glossy yearbooks, and names that sounded expensive. I could see the pride in their eyes—like they’d already decided who I should be.

I made my choice: “I don’t want to go to a private school. I want to attend Maple Heights High.”

My voice was steady, clear. I didn’t care if they liked it.

A top public high school.

It was known for its academics, not its pedigree. It was the farthest thing from the world they wanted for me.

Go to high school. Take the SATs. Get out of this house.

That was my plan. Simple. Clean. Mine.

I didn’t want to be the daughter of a wealthy family.

The idea made my skin crawl. I wanted to be my own person, not a prop in their story.

My parents were surprised. Ava tried to hide her joy and said, “Em, we don’t need to go to a regular high school. We don’t even need to take the SATs—we’ll go abroad someday.”

She smiled, trying to sound supportive, but I could see the relief in her eyes. She didn’t want me around—not really.

“That’s right, Emily, go to Oakridge Academy with your sister. We’ll take care of your future,” my mom said, patting my hand.

Her touch was light, almost perfunctory. She wanted us to be a matching set. I pulled my hand away.

My dad’s gaze flickered, clearly considering something.

He tapped his fingers on the table, lips pressed tight. I could see the wheels turning in his head, calculating.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

He was weighing the pros and cons. Thinking about appearances. About what other people would say.

In my last life, I attended Oakridge Academy and became infamous overnight.

It was a disaster from the start. I didn’t belong, and everyone knew it.

Not because I was outstanding. But because I stood out in all the wrong ways.

I was awkward, out of place, an easy target. The whispers followed me everywhere.

A country girl, suddenly studying with the richest kids in Maple Heights—I stuck out like a sore thumb.

They laughed at my accent. My clothes. The way I never quite fit in. I was the punchline to every joke.

When news spread that I was the real daughter of the Hayes family, it became a running joke.

They called me the lost princess, but never with kindness. It was just another way to remind me I didn’t belong.

People came to check me out, only to find I was dark, skinny, and awkward—so naturally, they mocked me.

They took pictures. Whispered behind my back. I pretended not to notice, but it hurt.

Even worse, Ava stirred things up. She not only got people to bully me but also sent a cute boy to flirt with me.

He was charming, all smiles and easy conversation. I fell for it—desperate for someone to see me.

After I fell for his sweet talk, he posted a bunch of our texts and pictures online.

My phone blew up with notifications. My face, my words, my secrets—all on display for the world to laugh at.

I instantly became a laughingstock and humiliated the Hayes family.

The shame was suffocating. I wanted to disappear.

My dad was furious and slapped me to the ground.

His hand was heavy. The sound echoed in the silent room. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the floor, numb.

“I knew letting you go to a fancy school would lead to this. You’ve completely disgraced our family!”

His words stung more than the slap. I’d never been more alone.

My dad cared deeply about appearances, and I had ruined that for him.

He didn’t care about my pain—only about what people would say.

Right now, all he was thinking about was appearances.