Riley's gaze collided with Cleo's rebellious stare. Under that blazing look, fury simmered, white-hot and ready to ignite.

Cleo watched Riley stumble back, then smoothed the skirts of her Victorian-style dress with a smirk. "Can't handle a little competition? Well, honey, the show's just getting started..."

Meanwhile, a new scheme was taking shape.

Late that night, Cleo slipped barefoot into Riley's room. She lifted the blue diamond necklace from its velvet box, her lips curling as she tucked it into the bottom drawer.

Just as she was about to creep away, a sliver of light sliced through the doorway.

"What the hell are you doing?" Liam squinted at her, suspicion hardening his eyes.

Cleo froze for a beat, then put on her best innocent mask. "Liam, Riley stole my necklace... I was just sneaking it back. You won't tell Mom and Dad, right? Promise me."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she grabbed his sleeve. "If they throw her out, you're the only family I'll have left..."

Liam shot a nervous glance at the blue diamond in the drawer, unease crawling up his spine. "What if they figure it out? Then what?"

"Maybe we should just come clean?" he mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Cleo's eyes lit up, locking onto his. That was exactly what she'd been waiting for. Her brother hadn't let her down.

The memory faded to pitch black.

The scene flipped to the next morning.

BAM! The door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall. Sean Walker stormed in, and before Riley could even put down her book, he yanked her by the hair and dragged her into the living room.

The blue diamond necklace was pulled from her drawer, and her mother's eyes blazed with pure rage.

She couldn't believe it—Riley had actually stooped to stealing!

Seething, her mother grabbed a vase and hurled it, the porcelain smashing against Riley's arm. "You ungrateful little brat! How dare you steal from Cleo!"

"It wasn't me..." Riley whispered, wincing at the pain, inching backward only to feel Liam blocking her way.

Liam sneered down at her. "Playing the victim again? The necklace was in your room. Or are you still gonna stand there and deny it?"

A hush fell over the courtroom as comments exploded online.

"OMG, Cleo planted the necklace herself!"

"Why is Liam backing her up? He knows the truth!"

"Blood really is thicker than water, huh. Even if Cleo came later, Liam still sides with his 'real' sister."

"This family has zero common sense."

In the courtroom, Cleo lunged toward the screen, shrieking, "Lies! That memory was tampered with!"

"That's not the truth! You've all been played by her!"

The judge stared at Cleo, his voice ice-cold. "Objection overruled."

"The memory trial uses the most advanced technology, Miss Walker. I advise you to keep it together in my courtroom."

Riley's mother gripped the railing, her voice shaking. "Riley... I had no idea about the necklace. Why didn't you just explain?"

"Explain?" A dry laugh escaped Riley's lips.

"When did you ever give me a chance to explain? You threw me in the basement, starved me, and banned me from every single event..."

The memory rolled on.

Riley stood at the door, trembling with panic, pleading so desperately her voice cracked.

But all she heard from the other side was her father's roar.

"Sit in there and think about what you've done! I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!"

"Don't bother showing your face—you're an embarrassment!"

Cleo's syrupy voice dripped through the crack under the door. "Liam, do you think she'll starve to death?"

"Who cares? She's a pain. Sick of her fake act all the time."

Cleo's laugh slithered in.

The livestream erupted again.

"This is straight-up abuse! Childhood trauma 101."

"Oh my God, this family is insane. They just jumped to conclusions without getting the facts!"

"Everyone who dragged Riley owes her a freaking apology!"

The sharp crack of the gavel cut through the chaos, just as Liam shot to his feet in the gallery.

With the whole room staring at him and Riley, a hot wave of anger rolled through him.

If Riley hadn't stirred up all this drama, none of this would be happening.

Now all eyes locked on Liam, waiting to hear what he could possibly say with such damning evidence against him.

Frustrated, he loosened his tie, his eyes swirling with a twisted scorn.

He regretted not letting Riley rot in that basement when he had the chance!

Then he jabbed a finger toward Riley, who looked ready to collapse in the defendant's chair. "Your Honor! I have another accusation to make."

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

And the livestream lit up with chatter.

"Another twist? I'm here for it."

"This is just plot twist after plot twist. How is this even gonna end?"

"One of these accusations has to be true, right?"

Amid the noise, Liam waved his phone with a smug grin, fixing Riley with a dead-serious stare.

"This woman even went after my friend!"

He whipped out a stack of photos and slapped them onto the table.

In the picture, Riley was on the beach next to Hudson Greene, the image blurry from a distance.

"She seduced Hudson, playing Miss Innocent while reeling in men with that face!"

Instantly, those photos were broadcast to every viewer watching the live feed.

This looked like irrefutable proof!

Online, Riley's supporters flipped on her in a heartbeat.

"Wow! Pictures don't lie—these can't be faked."

"No wonder the family can't stand her. She's a homewrecker at heart!"

"All that sweet act before, and now it turns out she's been sleeping her way around!"

"I was starting to feel bad for her, but I guess I was way too naive."

As the flood of insults poured in, Riley's pale fingers clutched the edge of the table.

Every ugly word felt like a knife to the chest, the whole world ready to convict her without a single chance to defend herself.

She lowered her eyes, catching the blurry outline of Hudson's profile in the photo, and suddenly, a wave of memories crashed over her.

"So hungry... so damn hungry..."

The basement air was thick with must and decay. Riley curled into a ball in the corner, desperately rifling through the drawers.

Three whole days had passed.

Apart from water, she hadn't eaten a thing.

Her stomach cramped, a gnawing ache that made cold sweat bead on her forehead.

In the faint light seeping through the skylight, she groped blindly around the basement.

She knew there was nothing edible down there—knew it—but she had no choice. Her mind was fading, and she had to find something. Anything.

Finally, she clutched a box of stale cookies tight. Riley Walker devoured the crumbs, the sour, stale taste exploding in her mouth. "I can't stay here," she muttered under her breath. Staying would be her downfall. Riley scanned the area, searching for anything that could help her get to the window.

Breathing heavily, she shoved a wooden crate beneath the window. Wobbling, she climbed on top and reached up to shake the rusty iron bars. With a sharp crack, the brittle bars snapped, and a rush of cold air hit her face. Instinctively, Riley squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain she was sure would follow.

But instead of slamming into the ground, she fell into a warm embrace. Was this it? The end? Confused, Riley's eyes fluttered open to find a familiar face staring down at her. "Hudson?" she gasped.

Hudson Greene's jaw was clenched, his eyes dark behind his glasses. His arms trembled from the impact, but he held her steady. Cradled against him, Riley could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat.

Before she could speak, Hudson lowered her onto a soft patch of grass nearby. "Here, have some coffee," he said, unscrewing a thermos and guiding it to her lips. Starving and not caring about manners, Riley grabbed the thermos, tilting her head back to gulp down the warm drink. As the liquid soothed her throat, tears welled up in her eyes.

She choked a little, and Hudson quickly reached out, gently patting her back. "Easy there," he murmured, then pulled two lunch boxes from his backpack and set them in front of her. "I brought these just for you."

Once Riley had composed herself, Hudson spoke again. "Let me take you back to your room."

"No..." she breathed, struggling to her feet, her eyes pleading. "If my father finds out, it'll get you tangled up in this mess."

"Then come with me," he insisted, his grip on her wrist tight—almost painful. "Riley, do you want to stay here and die?"

Half an hour later, Hudson pulled over, his body rigid. "Riley, I'm helping you because I can't stand to watch them push you around."

...

"Requesting to open the memory trial." The judge's voice sliced through the murmurs. Hudson finally looked up, his gaze colliding with Riley's as the memory of that summer by the seaside three years ago flooded back, his unspoken words still hanging in the air.

The screen flickered to life. In the damp basement, Riley stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering when it would all end. Once the edge of her hunger had dulled, she turned to meet Hudson's eyes, the emotion in her own impossible to hide.

"He's such a player," someone commented online. "I need eye bleach. How can Hudson be so full of himself?"

"Hudson's been good to Riley from the jump," another chimed in. "If someone helped me out of a mess like that, I'd be touched."

"Exactly, Hudson totally broke the bro code," someone joked.

Hudson shot to his feet, his face pale, storming toward the witness stand. "Enough!" he shouted, grabbing the microphone so hard his knuckles went white. "Riley has only ever been a burden to me! The one I truly care about is Cleo!"

Riley's half-sister, Cleo, let out a gasp that quickly twisted into a sneer—an all-too-familiar expression crossing her face as Riley's mind drifted back to that summer day.

Back then, Cleo had the same look. She hadn't realized it at the time, but now it was clear Cleo had been rubbing it in her face—

"Is the dance club president election list finalized?" The music teacher's voice drifted from the office. Riley stood in the doorway, clutching her application, too nervous to knock. Her fingers traced the words "President Application" over and over.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed. The door swung open, and Riley found herself face-to-face with Cleo's mocking eyes. She quickly tucked her hand behind her back. The dance teacher, who had always looked down on Riley, frowned the moment she saw her.

Cleo noticed Riley too, her lips curling into a smirk. "What's my sister doing here, sneaking around like a thief?" she asked, her tone dripping with fake innocence.

The dance teacher shot Riley a look of disdain, scoffing. "Who knows? C'mon, Cleo, let's head to the dance studio for the competition."

"Sure!" Cleo said, snatching Riley's application and bursting out laughing. Her laugh made the teacher stop mid-step and glance back.

"Cleo, what's wrong?" the teacher asked.

"My sister wants to be the dance club president," Cleo declared, handing over the crumpled application.

The teacher's frown deepened as she took it, the disdain she felt for Riley written all over her face. Cleo savored Riley's humiliation, barely containing her glee. "This is my sister's dream—maybe give her a chance?" she suggested.

"Cleo, you know the dance club's reputation in this school," the teacher replied. "The presidency isn't just for anyone."

Her icy stare landed on Riley. "Besides, if you can't even keep time, you can't be a lead dancer."

Riley hung her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, and reached for her application. The teacher's tone was flat. "There's an open election next month. If you get two-thirds of the club's votes, you can be president."

In that moment, Riley felt a flicker of hope. Cleo walked ahead with the teacher but then asked, "Are you really considering Riley for president?"

"Cleo, you're my star student. Naturally, I want you to be president. But the school requires an election. Do you really think she's better than you?"

...

The dance studio was dimly lit that night. Riley raised her trembling right leg in front of the mirror, the piano track from her earbuds filling her ears. She wobbled off balance on that step again.

Riley Walker gritted her teeth against the sharp pain ripping through her body as she forced herself up from the floor. No matter how many times she tried to pull off that move, she just couldn’t get it right, and it was driving her crazy. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind somewhere else entirely.

On election day, Cleo was in the dressing room, showering the dance club members with her stash of makeup. “My mom went totally overboard with all this,” she said, flashing a grin and waving at the spread. “Help yourselves to whatever you want.”

“Wow, Cleo, you’re so generous! These are all high-end brands—super pricey,” one of the girls gushed.

“Yeah, and this lipstick? Limited edition, right?” another chimed in.

Under the wave of compliments, Cleo soaked up the attention, keeping her smile perfectly modest. Acting all considerate, she added, “My sister has worked so hard for that class president spot. Make sure you vote for her, okay?”

“We can’t stand her!” someone blurted out with a sneer.

The crowd jumped right on that. “Seriously, what makes her think she could be class president? I’m not having it!”

“Cleo should be president—she’s born for it!”

“How can someone who doesn’t even click with the club have any right to be president?”

Hearing all that support, a surge of victory rushed through Cleo, but she kept her face straight, playing coy. “Oh, don’t say that. My sister really has put in the effort.”

Riley was slipping pain relief patches into her dance shoes just as the auditorium lights snapped on.

“With the performance now over, it’s time to start voting,” Mr. Smith announced, tapping the mic as he addressed the crowd. Even though the class election was tied to the dance club, the school took it seriously, making sure the whole student body could vote anonymously to keep things fair.

The numbers on the digital screen started to tick up. Cleo could barely hide her smirk, like she’d already locked in the win. But when the final results flashed, her smile slipped. The votes for Riley Walker’s name shot up at a crazy speed.

“No… this can’t be happening!” Cleo whispered, completely thrown. She’d pulled every string she could—how was Riley still getting this much support? Something had to be rigged!

Riley stared at the final tally—368 votes, exactly hitting the two-thirds cutoff. But as the newly elected class president, she barely had time to breathe before a massive problem landed in her lap. Right before their long-awaited competition, word dropped that their team had been yanked from the lineup!

“What do you mean? You’ve gotta be kidding! Why are we only hearing this now?” The club members all fired their questions at Riley at once.

“Is this seriously how you run the club, after we busted our asses for this chance?”

“We’ve been prepping for ages, and now, at the last freaking minute, we’re disqualified?”

“Riley Walker, do you get off on seeing us humiliated?”

“Someone like you has no business being class president. How the hell did you even get those votes?”

“Exactly! Not one of us voted for you anyway!”

Facing their accusations, Riley stood there, at a loss for words. She had zero clue what had gone down. They’d been ready to hit the stage, but just minutes earlier, a staff member told them their spot was scrapped. The huge screen in the auditorium confirmed it.

Seeing Riley say nothing only made the members more pissed. They took her silence as a cop-out.

“I’ll go talk to the organizers,” Riley finally managed to get out.

But as she turned, someone grabbed her by the back of the neck, fingers digging in tight.

A furious face loomed right in front of her, growling, “Don’t think you’re gonna weasel out of this. You actually believe you can just run off?”

Meanwhile, the host bowed deep toward the crowd. “Sorry for the delay. We just received anonymous reports about misconduct by Riley Walker’s team,” he announced. “After looking into it, it checks out—Riley Walker’s team is officially disqualified.”

As the announcement echoed, a ripple of curiosity shot through the audience. What could’ve caused such a sudden axing?

Riley was just as stunned by the heavy accusation. She bolted onto the stage, snatching the mic from the host, her voice tight with panic. “Explain why our spot was pulled! I demand a real reason!”

From the judges’ panel, someone let out a nasty laugh. “You seriously need me to spell it out for you?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong! I deserve a valid explanation!” Riley shot back.

One of the panel members declared, “We have eyewitness testimony that you were handing something to Judge Chapman late at night!”

Hearing that, the clueless audience jumped right to their own conclusions, shouting for Riley to apologize and fess up.

But Riley hadn’t done anything of the sort! Facing those groundless accusations, she refused to back down.

“I never did that! How dare you spread lies about me,” Riley fired back, straining her voice over the crowd’s noise.

“You’re still denying it? Fine, I’ll let everyone see the surveillance footage,” came a chilling reply.

Soon—

The footage popped up, showing Riley handing a thick stack of papers to Judge Chapman, who was sitting on the floor.

The moment the scene played out, the audience’s judgment came crashing down on Riley.

“The nerve to offer something like that—so freaking obvious!”

“Risky move, but kinda genius. If she’d pulled it off, who’d even question it?”

“If she hadn’t been caught, Riley Walker might’ve actually gotten away with it.”

Riley couldn’t wrap her head around how the documents she’d handed to Chapman’s team were now twisted into a bribe.

“It wasn’t like that…” Riley started, but a sharp, metallic taste rose in the back of her throat, making her want to puke.

“Initiate memory trial!” The judge’s gavel slammed down, and Riley’s memory flickered onto the massive screen.

It was dead of night. Rain was pouring buckets outside the venue. Riley didn’t have an umbrella and figured she’d wait out the storm before heading home. So she sat in a corner of the dance studio, fixing up her torn ballet shoes.

“The venue shuts down at eleven!” a security guard barked, flashlight in hand, shooing her away.