I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held.

When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company.

They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment.

Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.

Christmas break was just around the corner.

A high school group chat that had been dead for years suddenly became lively again. Messages flooded in by the hundreds within minutes.

Some people talked about how excited they were to reunite, while others sighed nostalgically about how beautiful those years had been.

The class president sent me a private message again, insisting that I attend no matter what.

I had ignored every invitation before, but this time, I agreed.

Because I wanted to see what they looked like once they failed and had nothing left.

…

"I just went to park, and you guys are not going to believe this. There's a Rolls-Royce in the lot."

Sebastian Cross, the loudest and most troublesome person in our class back then, burst into the private room and announced it at the top of his lungs.

Since we were the only customers in the restaurant today, everyone stopped their small talk at the same time and started guessing.

"Okay, who's the big shot hiding in our class? Zachary, don't tell me it's yours."

"Yeah, seriously. You were the genius in our class. You've got to be making banks by now."

"They're just material things," Zachary Grant said lightly with a smile. "Nothing worth mentioning."

That single sentence was enough for everyone to assume the car belonged to him.

"It's mine."

I spoke from where I was sitting in the corner.

The room went quiet for a beat, and everyone turned to look at me.

The looks on their faces were a mix of scrutiny, surprise, contempt, and doubt. It was almost identical to the way they used to look at me when they bullied me.

Our class had 45 people, and almost everyone showed up that day.

Good. Let them all be witnesses.

I looked at the faces that had trapped me in a nightmare throughout high school, then stood and walked over.

"You don't remember me, do you? I'm Brianna Shore," I said calmly. "Long time no see."

Finneas Dane, the class president, was the first to react. He grabbed my arm in a familiar way and pulled me into their circle.

"Brianna, you actually came. That's a first. Every time I tried to reach you before, I couldn't get through. We've been waiting forever.

"So, how much did you pay for that car? Just tell me, so I can stop deluding myself that I'd be able to afford it."

"I don't really know. It's the company's."

"Oh, it's a company car. You're so low-key that we thought you were a server here."

Melissa Cooper, who used to be the prettiest girl in class, looked at me dismissively. Her words set off a wave of laughter.

"You disappeared after graduation, and we never heard from you again. Seeing that you're doing well now makes me feel better."

Zachary, whose lie had just been exposed, looked at me with that same gentle expression he used to wear in high school.

But in reality, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, a devil who'd drag someone into the pits of hell.

"Come on, Zachary," Melissa said, sliding closer and hooking her arm through mine like we were close. "Isn't this all because of you? If you hadn't helped her back then, would Brianna have ever scored that well in math?"

I dug my left hand into my thigh, hard, forcing myself not to tremble.

The others smiled and echoed her, as if they'd all suddenly forgotten what they had done to me in high school.

During lunch, it was like they were following a script, casually showing off how well their lives had turned out.

Finneas took a call and loudly mentioned a deal worth millions of dollars.

Melissa showed off a diamond ring that was clearly several carats large.

Vexana Jones made sure everyone noticed the luxury watch on her wrist.

Cassandra Carter talked about her wealthy husband, who doted on her.

Rebecca Jenkins sat there in black-rimmed glasses with the bookish air of a math teacher.

They weren't just showing off. They also kept finding ways to get my number.

After all, no one expected that the girl who used to be nothing, the girl with that blunt bob haircut back then, would show up driving a Rolls-Royce.

By the time we were halfway through the meal, everyone had already added me on WhatsApp. After all, gatherings like this were never just about catching up. People came to show off and to network.

Watching them all act like their lives were perfect, I smiled.

Because soon, they were going to end up like rats in a gutter.

…

I used a phone call as an excuse to step outside for some air, and on my way back, I stopped by the restroom.

I was about to leave when I heard Melissa and Vexana's voices.

"Melissa, I seriously didn't expect that idiot to be doing this well now. But what about what happened back then—"

"Shut up!" Melissa snapped. "What happened back then? We were kids. We just wanted to befriend her. Besides, she's fine now, isn't she? Look at her. Do you really think she can afford a Rolls-Royce? She's probably just putting on a show. For all we know, she's just a driver for her boss."

"That makes sense. You're always right, Melissa."

…

I stood in the stall and listened to them laugh as they left.

They weren't going to be laughing much longer.

When I got back to the private room, Melissa immediately steered the conversation again.

"Brianna, it's been ten years. Everyone thought you weren't doing well, and that's why you didn't want to come."

She was deliberately dragging it back to high school, trying to get a reaction out of me.

Melissa came from money. She was the classic rich, pretty girl, and everyone in our class treated her like royalty. She didn't have to clean or wipe the blackboard, and her desk was always stuffed with snacks and little gifts.

After all, she had no shortage of followers.

She had been the one to approach me first, acting like she wanted to be friends.

It was only because Zachary had said he would tutor me in math.

In class, she played the role of the gentle friend who shared snacks and helped me out.

After school, she was the one who brought a gang of people with her and locked me in a small, dark room.

In the pitch-black storage room, she'd tape my mouth shut and slap used toilet paper over my eyes.

When I tried to resist, it only got worse.

When I told the teacher, Melissa was always the first to apologize. She insisted it was just friends messing around.

When I told Dad, he forgave her after seeing her face and scolded me instead, saying I wasn't being friendly with my classmates.

Later, I found out why.

Melissa's mother was the first woman Dad had ever fallen in love with and never gotten over. Mom, on the other hand, never once heard him call her his wife before she died.

After that, Melissa became even bolder.

The worst incident was when she hit me over and over with her heels and forced me to hurt myself. Then she posted about it on Instagram, packaging herself as the one who had saved me.

Dad only paid the medical bills. After that, he never cared again.

I kept telling myself to hold on. Just half a year more, and I could take the SAT and take control of my own life.

After that incident, I requested my own seat, and Melissa finally settled down.

I thought she was scared.

Only later did I learn the truth.

Zachary and Melissa had been together from the start. He chose to sit with me, tutor me, and act kind only because they had fought and wanted to make her jealous.

Years later, I heard from a friend that they broke up after graduation.

Now, Melissa had married an old, ugly, rich heir for her family's benefit. Even after getting married, she still stayed entangled with Zachary.

"I'm doing okay," I said. "But you probably haven't been doing great lately. I heard your dad's company has been short on cash and caught up in bad press, and that it's about to be acquired by Radiant Group."

"What are you talking about?"

Melissa shot to her feet, pointing at me and dropping the image she'd worked so hard to build. "When is my company getting acquired? Stop making things up!"

"Right about now."

I checked the time. It was exactly noon.

The acquisition news and the related scandals broke and shot to the top of the trending list almost immediately.

"Brianna, what do you even do? How do you know all this?" Sebastian leaned over, eager for drama.

"Because I'm the boss of Radiant Group."

My voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make the entire room go still.

Everyone stared at me like they couldn't process what they'd just heard.

When I first entered the working world, I ran into setbacks everywhere, but compared to what I went through in high school, it felt easier.

I didn't have money, and I didn't have a good degree. As long as something wasn't illegal, I did it.

While people my age were traveling and buying stylish outfits, I was doing kitchen prep in restaurants, washing dishes, and peeling potatoes.

Back then, I wasn't thinking about getting rich. I just wanted to eat.

One day, when I was looking for another part-time job, I met a woman. She said I was tall, slim, and had the right look to be a model. She didn't know it was because I'd been hungry for too long.

With her help, I became a model and made a lot of money.

In the end, I chose to start from scratch and work behind the scenes instead, because the hardest part of modeling was that I couldn't eat much, and I couldn't stand that.

After I had money, I founded a company and became my own boss.

From that point on, I spent what I earned to make up for everything I'd been denied. I bought expensive skincare, expensive clothes, and I didn't hold back when it came to food, drinks, or going out.

After I paid in full for a house and a car and opened a store while I was still young, I stopped caring about looking polished. I dressed however I wanted, and I leaned into a casual, messy style.

My assistant used to joke that if I disappeared into a crowd, I'd look like someone scraping by on a tiny paycheck. I kept it that way on purpose.

"Brianna, what is this?"

Vexana was the first to jump up and accuse me.

"You made it, and you didn't think to help any of us, but you're going after Melissa's family business. And you're smearing her with bullying accusations. What kind of person does that?

"Melissa was always kind. She saw how timid you were and tried to be your friend. Zachary even helped you with math. You should be thanking them, not turning around and slandering them."

Rebecca let out a small laugh, her tone contemptuous, while Sebastian kept eating his chicken without a care for his image.

"You disgust me."

I set my wine down and stood up.

"Vexana, are you pretending you don't remember, or do you really think nobody does?" I asked.

"When I hurt myself in that storage room at school, you weren't just standing around. You helped. And just to be clear, I didn't go after their company. Her dad begged for my help. Besides, aren't you involved with Mr. Cooper? If you're that close to him, you should already know how this happened."

Vexana truly lived up to her name. She was a vixen.

Melissa probably never would've imagined that the lackey who always kept her head down around her was aiming to become her stepmother.

The moment it sank in, Melissa's expression changed. She stopped acting upset and stared at Vexana, as if she wanted to tear her apart.

"And you, Rebecca," I continued. "I should thank you, too. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it to where I am today."

"What are you talking about?"

"In sophomore year, we went to the same summer math tutoring class. You skipped a lot and missed important material.

"When I scored well after we went back to school, you didn't like that the teacher praised me, so you told Melissa I only did well because I spent the whole summer hanging around Zachary, and you accused me of cheating.

"That's what got everything started, and you stayed on the side, acting innocent while I took the hit."

Back then, when their little clique decided on a story, nothing I said could clear my name.