The room exploded.

“Yo! Nico made the first move?!”

“They’ve been sneaking around for years. Finally went public, huh?”

I didn’t stick around to watch the show.

I picked up my bag, head down and walked out. Back at the villa, that slow-burning fire of humiliation from dinner was still lodged in my chest like a rock.

I was done.

I took the stairs two at a time, dug my old suitcase out of the closet and started shoving clothes in without even folding.

The door flew open, crashing into the wall.

“I see you’re trying to escape,” Calla said, arms crossed in the doorway. “You’re running away because you feel guilty, aren’t you?”

Nico lingered behind her, his eyes flicking between the floor and me, face still flushed from the kiss he planted just minutes ago.

I zipped the suitcase shut, not saying a word.

When I grabbed the handle and tried to push past her, she stormed in and grabbed my wrist—hard. Her grip was tighter than I expected; her nails dug in like she meant to bruise.

“Where’s the money, River?” Her voice cracked with rage. “All two hundred and fifty grand. You don’t leave this house until you tell me where it went!”

“Let go of me,” I said, pulling back, but she held on like her life depended on it.

“I told you. It’s gone. The expenses are all logged—you can check for yourself.”

At the word expenses, Nico’s face shifted. He moved quickly, stepping between us.

“Calla, take it easy. I’m sure River has a reason for—”

“Oh, he’s got a reason alright,” she snapped. “The son of a chauffeur walking around with our class fund? You think this isn’t suspicious?”

Then her eyes locked on mine, cold and merciless.

“Just tell me straight. Was it your dad? Did he take the money?”

And there it was.

After all this time, that’s still all I was to her—the driver’s son. No matter how well I did in class, how clean I kept the books, how hard I worked—none of it mattered.

My voice shook, but not with fear. “Watch your mouth, Calla. My dad didn’t take a single cent.” I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the transaction logs. “The records are right here. Look for yourself.”

I was about to hand it over when Nico slapped it out of my hand. The phone flew across the room and cracked against the wall.

Everything went still.

Even Calla looked stunned for a second.

“Nico, what are you—?”

“You’ve got boost on your system,” he said quickly. “We can only solve this matter when we’re sober. Let’s not deal with this right now. Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”

He didn’t give her a choice. He all but dragged her out of my room while she stumbled behind him, too caught off guard to protest.

But something about Nico’s reaction stuck with me. He looked… scared. Like he knew something I didn’t.

I knelt to pick up my phone. The screen was spiderwebbed, but somehow still alive.

It started buzzing in my hand. Incoming video call.

Nico.

He had just walked out. Why was he calling?

I answered on instinct.

And the second the feed came through, my heart stopped.

The image shook for a second—then it focused.

Two people stumbled into view.

Calla and Nico.

Laughing, breathless, tangled in each other. Clothes half-on.

“So,” Nico panted, breath hot and close to the mic, “tell me again. Which one you like better. Me, or River?”

Calla gave a bored little laugh, hands trailing down his chest. “Are you joking?” she scoffed. “He was just the chauffeur’s son—now he’s a thief, too. No way he even comes close to you.”

Nico chuckled low, turned his head toward the phone and looked straight at the camera.

He knew what he was doing.

And then the screen went dark as the phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

My chest burned.

I had always thought—maybe somewhere, beneath her snobbery and sarcasm—Calla saw me. When I sprained my ankle in gym, she was the one who helped me limp to the nurse’s office. When I stayed late studying, she left sliced fruit on my desk.

She always offered me a ride. She always sat close in group projects.

And I… I thought maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

But to her, I was never anything more than the help.

I rolled my suitcase to the front door. Calla’s room upstairs was shut tight, but through the thick walls I could still hear the faint, disgusting rhythm of what was happening inside.

I walked to the kitchen. My mom was drying dishes, eyes red from holding back tears.

“Mom,” I said softly, “I’m heading out. I’ve got that military school interview today.”

She nodded, reached into the fridge and pulled out a carefully wrapped lunch box.

“Take care, son. Call me when you get there,” she said as she pressed the lunchbox into my hands.

“I will,” I said, my throat tight. “You take care too.”

I turned without looking back, pulling my suitcase behind me as I stepped through the doors of the Grant estate.

I wasn’t coming back.

***

The day of the interview, my heart was pounding. I’d been dreaming of this for years. Serving in the military had been my dream since I was five. But just as I reached the main entrance of the academy building, someone yelled behind me.

“River!”

I turned. Calla was storming across the courtyard, face pale with rage.

“Think you can run away from this?” she snapped, grabbing my arm with a grip like a bear trap. “You think you can just take the class fund and walk into an academy like nothing happened?!”

Heads turned. All the other interviewees were suddenly watching.

“Let go,” I said through gritted teeth. “I told you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “I didn’t take that money. You guys spent it. You never kept track.”

“Don’t give me that crap!” she barked, then tossed a thick file down at my feet. “See this? Your dad’s account got a fourteen grand deposited last December. You seriously wanna stand here and tell me that’s not class money?”

I looked down at the printout. It was blurry, barely legible, probably cropped to hide context. And just like that, she tried to pin the whole thing on me.

“That was money I earned working jobs. I sent it to my dad because—God forbid—I wanted to help him out.”

“You?” she sneered. “What job pays a driver’s son five figures?”

She shoved me hard. I stumbled back—caught the edge of a step—and fell. My hands flew out to catch myself, but there was a sickening sound of broken bones and pain exploded through my wrist. I let out a sharp breath, sweat instantly breaking on my forehead.

“Hey! Someone just got shoved!”

People started shouting. Calla froze. Her eyes darted from my twisted wrist to the faces around her. For a second, she looked scared. Then her mask snapped back on.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “Now you’re faking an injury? What’s next, a fainting spell?”

“Move. Make way!”

A sharp voice cut through the noise as a military instructor pushed through the crowd. He knelt beside me, checked my arm.

“Fracture,” he said crisply, then looked up at Calla with steel in his eyes. “Who are you and why are you putting your hands on candidates?”

“I—I didn’t touch him,” Calla stammered. “He fell on his own!”

“That’s not true!” someone shouted from the crowd. “She pushed him!”

The instructor stood, voice low but firm. “I don’t care what your argument is—this is assault. And it happened at the academy gate.”

Then he turned to me. “I’m sorry, Son. With an injury like that, you won’t be able to complete the interview process today.”

That hit harder than the fall. I tried to get up, eyes pleading. “Sir, I’ve prepared for this my whole life. She’s lying. She pushed me. She’s framing me—”

“Enough!” another voice cut in.

Nico came jogging over, panting, a little too conveniently out of breath.

“River, come on,” he said, voice full of fake concern. “Calla was just upset. None of this was on purpose.”

Then he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Look, just pay back forty grand. We’ll cover the rest and this whole mess goes away.”

“Let’s just let this whole thing blow over,” Nico said smoothly. “I'll talk to the academy. Maybe we can still get you in somehow. Sound good?”

Forty grand?

I stared at him. His smile was too clean, too rehearsed.

A chill crawled up my spine.

“I didn’t spend the money,” I said flatly. “Why the hell should I be the one paying it back?”

Nico’s smile thinned. “River, be smart. I’m giving you a way out here.”

“You think you’re getting into this school after all that noise out front? Take the deal. Clean it up. Or… we both know the Grants have long arms.”

He turned to the instructor and bowed slightly. “Sorry for all the trouble, sir. We’ll take him to the hospital.”

The instructor didn’t stop him.

That’s when I dropped. Just let my knees go and collapsed.

“Hey! Candidate’s passed out!” someone yelled. “Get him to the infirmary—now!”

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a medical bay. And standing beside me, in full dress uniform, was a man I hadn’t seen in years.

“Uncle Herbert?” I whispered.

The older man gave me a warm, tired smile.

He was the same man my dad once saved on the battlefield. The same man who’d sent me birthday cards every year, even after Dad was gone.

“Oh, River…” His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “Those brats out there think they can mess with my godson?”  He took my good hand. “As long as I’m around, no one lays a finger on you, hear me?”

Something thick caught in my throat. It wasn’t anger. Wasn’t fear. It was… warmth.

The kind I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you. But I don’t want you to interfere. Just… promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Once I prove I didn’t take that money, just get me a second shot at the interview. Let me prove I belong here. Fair and square.”

“You’ve got backbone, kid. Just like your father.”

Herbert looked at me for a long second. And then he smiled, proud.

“You’re just like your old man. Fine. You sort this out and I’ll make sure you get your chance.”

***

A few days later, I returned to the school I hadn’t set foot in for a while—wearing a full cast on my arm.

As I walked down the hallway, every head that had been buried in their little cliques suddenly turned to look at me.

“Hey, hey—look. It’s River. What happened to his arm?” a girl whispered.

“Wait—isn’t he the guy who stole the class funds?” the boy beside her asked.

“I heard the injury had something to do with Calla,” another girl added.

“Yeah,” said the tallest guy in the group, “I heard his military qualification exam got postponed because his arm’s broken.”

I ignored their whispers and walked on, steady and unbothered.

Calla was perched on top of a desk like usual, legs crossed, surrounded by her usual swarm of girls like some queen bee, giggling over the latest gossip.

But the second she saw me, the smile dropped from her face.

She hopped down from her little throne and stormed toward me, her expression dark and hostile.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here,” she hissed. “What’s the act today? Cast too tight? Gonna cry again?”

I looked her straight in the eye.

“I’m here for the truth, Calla. I’m not leaving until I get it.”

She threw her hands up and turned to the class.

“Everyone hear that? The guy who lost 250 grand from our class fund wants justice now!”

The room murmured. Disbelief. Suspicion.

But then, from the back, a voice spoke up.

“I mean... maybe River’s not lying.”

Everyone turned. It was Natalie, quiet girl, always near the back.

“Have you all actually looked at how we spend money?” she said. “Custom jackets, two class trips and didn’t we rent out an entire theme park for the spring party? If you think about it that alone cost like fifteen grand didn’t it?”

Eyes started shifting. Doubts forming.

“Oh, and remember Nico’s birthday?” someone chimed in after Natalie’s comment. “We used class funds for that, too—and even added extra just to get him that designer bag as a gift.”

“Yeah, and that class party last semester? I heard the venue alone cost a small fortune,” another classmate added.

The whispers started growing louder, threading their way through the crowd.

Calla’s face twisted. The cracks in her perfect expression were starting to show.

“That’s nothing! Don’t let him derail this,” she snapped, voice shaking with anger. “River, just admit it! You stole the money. Unless you’ve got proof, shut your mouth!”

That was my cue. I’ve been waiting for her to say that.

“You keep screaming that I stole 250 grand.” I stepped forward, lifting my chin.

“Fine. Let’s do this right here. Right now. Pull up every transaction from the class fund over the last three years.”

The hallway went dead silent.

“I want the whole school to see where the money really went. You in, Calla?”

Her face drained of color. For a second, she actually looked scared. But pride snapped her back into place.

“You think I’m afraid of a little accounting?” she sneered. “Fine. If it turns out you took the money, I’ll personally hand you over to the police. But if I’m wrong—”

She pointed a manicured finger at me.

“—I’ll pay for you to study abroad. First class.”

The whole hallway gasped.

One of her followers ran off to grab the classroom laptop. I took out my phone, ready to cast the data onto the projector.

And then a deep, rhythmic noise filled the air. We all turned as a sleek white helicopter descended onto the school’s front lawn like something out of a movie.

The side door flew open before the rotors even stopped.

It was Nico.

He jumped down—literally jumped—ignoring the ladder completely. His hair was a mess, shirt half-untucked and he looked like a guy who’d just watched his life flash before his eyes.

“Stop! Calla! River! Don’t touch that computer!”