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.

Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. Riley Walker approached the security guard, her eyes wide with hope. "It's really pouring out there. Could I just hang out here a little longer?"

The guard grumbled under his breath but finally gave in, letting her stay. Riley rushed out a quick thank-you.

She started across the stage in her ballet slippers when a dull thud from the storage room made her freeze. Unease prickled down her spine, and on instinct, she moved toward the sound. But just as she reached the door, the noise stopped.

Riley hesitated, then tapped softly. "Hello? Someone in there?" she called, her voice barely above a whisper. After a long pause of silence, she started to wonder if she'd just imagined it. Just as she was about to turn away, a faint sound reached her again.

Acting on impulse, she twisted the knob and found Judge Chapman on his knees, scattered thumbtacks everywhere, pain twisting his features.

"Is it your low blood sugar again?" she asked, dropping down to pry his clenched jaw open. She slipped her last piece of chocolate inside.

Slowly, Judge Chapman's blank stare sharpened, and his trembling finger pointed to the inside pocket of his suit.

"I'll find help. Just stay with me—don't fall asleep!" Riley urged.

In the live stream chat, the comments exploded.

"See? She totally slipped him something. Why else would Riley take off so fast?"

"Said she was getting help, but bet she was really warning the others."

"This whole thing's probably a setup to cover their tracks."

The scene cut away abruptly.

Not long after Riley left, Cleo slipped into the storage room. When she saw Judge Chapman struggling, there was no pity in her eyes—just a cold smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Thinking Cleo had come to help, Judge Chapman reached out a hand. But instead of taking it, Cleo crouched down and pulled a small box from her pocket. Inside, a few gold bars gleamed under the dim light.

With a soft smile, Cleo said slowly, "Judge Chapman, my sister Riley asked me to give you this. She's already gone to get help for you."

"What?!" Judge Chapman's eyes went wide with shock as he took it all in.

Cleo let out a deep sigh, playing up the reluctance. "I tried to talk her out of it, but she's so determined to win the competition she went down this road anyway. I..."

She shot a sidelong glance at Judge Chapman and, seeing the confusion on his face, let a tiny, secret smile slip. Before he could shove the gift away, Cleo tucked the box into his suit pocket.

"I'll go check if my sister's had any luck finding help," she said, and walked out just as fast.

Ten minutes later, the storage room door burst open. Judge Chapman sat in the middle of the mess, his face gray. Riley dropped to her knees beside him, breathless and frantic. "Judge Chapman, I couldn't find anyone. Should I help you get out of here?"

"Get away from me!" he roared, shoving her hand aside with a fury that came out of nowhere.

Caught off guard, Riley stumbled into a shelf, a thin line of blood beading on her forehead.

"Stop acting all sweet and innocent!" Judge Chapman spat, yanking the box from his pocket and throwing it at her.

"Did you scatter those thumbtacks, too?" His eyes blazed, pinning her with an accusing glare.

Before Riley could get a word out, he went on, "I never thought you'd sink this low—bribing a judge. Your family really is rotten to the core."

Staring at the scattered gold bars, Riley stood frozen, whispering, "Bribe? I didn't... This isn't mine..."

"The cameras caught everything," Judge Chapman sneered, jabbing a shaky finger at the camera in the corner. "It's all on tape. You still want to deny it?"

"You said you were getting help, but this was your plan from the start, wasn't it?" He grabbed her collar, fingers digging in. "Even if it costs me my job, I won't touch this filthy stuff!"

Riley's pupils shrank.

She remembered seeing a shadow—Cleo—slipping through the hallway.

"It wasn't me. It was Cleo!" she blurted as the truth crashed over her. "She set me up!"

"Where's your proof?" Judge Chapman let out a dry laugh, looking at her like she was dirt.

"Everyone knows Cleo's sweet and pure-hearted. She was just trying to help you..."

He let go with disgust. "An adopted impostor, eaten alive with jealousy—nothing's beneath you, is it?"

Right then, footsteps sounded outside.

Cleo came in with school officials right behind her, tears already gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her voice cracked with fake emotion. "Judge Chapman, are you okay? How could my sister do this just to win a competition?"

"I tried to stop her earlier," Cleo said, turning to Riley and grabbing her hand. "Just apologize, sis! It's not too late to own up!"

Riley glared at the woman gripping her hand, sharp pain stinging where the fresh nails dug into her skin.

"Let go of me," Riley shot Cleo a deadly look through clenched teeth.

Cleo stumbled back, cradling her reddened wrist as tears spilled over. "I was only trying to help, sis. How could you..."

"Enough!" The principal stood to the side, watching the whole scene with a cold stare.

"Riley Walker, your spot in the competition is revoked. Leave the premises now!"

The dance studio at night felt like a freezing tomb.

Riley Walker stood barefoot on the icy floor, staring at her own reflection as she practiced one punishing turn after another.

By then, her toes had blistered and split, smearing streaks of blood across the wooden floor.

"Five, six, seven, eight..." she counted through gritted teeth, only to crash down hard during a leap.

Her reflection showed her everything she'd lost. "How did it come to this?"

Clutching her chest, nails carving into her skin, she had no clue how long she'd been there when the door swung open.

"Oh, still at it so late?" Cleo leaned against the doorframe, twirling a USB drive between her fingers.

A knowing smile curled her lips. "WCleo know what's on this?"

Riley barely threw her a glance, cold as ice.

Seeing she wasn't getting a rise, Cleo went on, "It's the surveillance footage of you bribing the judge. All I have to do is click..."