Aspyn Guzman glanced at her wrist, her tone flat. "Just an injury."

Grant Guzman opened his mouth, then thought better of it. The sight of that scar—and what it implied—left him unsettled, the words stuck in his throat.

His earlier anger began to fade. He cleared his throat. "Even though you're still on parole, we managed to get you re-enrolled. You can complete registration tomorrow and get back to your classes."

Aspyn was caught off guard. She'd been racking her brain, trying to figure out how to get back into school—she hadn't expected the Guzman family to clear that hurdle for her. Saved her the headache, at least. She'd enroll first, then put in a request to switch her major.

Her real passion was biochemistry, but because of Avayah, she'd ended up in literature. The Guzmans didn't trust Avayah to be alone in the lit department, so they'd switched Aspyn's program without asking. Back then, eager to fit in, she'd reluctantly taken on a double major.

She wouldn't make that mistake again. The sooner she got her hands on lab equipment, the sooner she could get back to her real work—developing pharmaceuticals under the codename "Union."

Years ago, someone had noticed her talent. They'd exchanged messages online a few times, and were supposed to meet about her joining a pharmaceutical research team. Then her life got completely derailed—by her imprisonment.

Now, back to the present. Aspyn was about to thank Grant when Avayah piped up.

"Aspyn, I got into the graduate program at the same university. We can study together now."

Ha.

So that was it.

Aspyn had been wondering what kind of miracle—like the sun rising in the west—had made them so considerate. But no. Of course it was all for Avayah.

They'd only revived her academic status because Avayah was going to grad school. In the old days, she would've been the scholar tagging along with the princess.

For a split second, she'd been naive enough to think they'd finally remembered she was part of the Guzman family too.

Her mother smiled, dropping a piece of pulled pork into her bowl. "Jay's also taken a teaching position at the school, but he'll be busy. We'll need you to keep an eye on Avayah."

Aspyn stared at the food in her bowl. Sweet, sticky, not something she cared for—but it was on the table every single day.

Because Avayah loved it.

She set down her fork and stood. "I'm done. Enjoy your meal."

With that, she turned and headed for her guest room.

She couldn't afford to clash with them right now. She had to endure her first ninety days on parole.

Nobody expected her to bail like that. It wasn't until Aspyn had already climbed the stairs that Ezekiel grumbled, "Did you see that attitude?"

"Let it go, Ezekiel. Aspyn just came back. Cut her some slack," their mother chided.

Avayah chimed in, "I'll go talk to her—maybe discuss tomorrow's school plans."

Her mother looked relieved. "Yes, you two have always gotten along. Go have a chat with her. She's becoming more withdrawn."

Their mother frowned, but then she remembered Aspyn had spent three years in a god-awful place, and she swallowed her irritation.

Upstairs, Aspyn was thinking about visiting Grandma the next day when a knock came at the door. Before she could even answer, the door swung open, and Avayah stepped in.

Aspyn's expression went ice-cold instantly.

"Aspyn…" Avayah started, hesitant. "I just came to see if you need anything. I can have someone get it for you."

Aspyn looked up, her gaze dripping with sarcasm.

Avayah's words only underscored the gap between how they were treated—like a constant reminder of where Aspyn stood.

How absurd. Aspyn was their biological daughter, and yet she was treated like a stranger.

No. Worse than a stranger.

Aspyn replied coolly, "I told you three years ago. Don't call me 'sister.'"

That title had cost her three years in prison. A sibling she could live without.

"Aspyn…" Avayah's eyes welled up. "I know you're angry with me, and I want to make it up to you. I really do…"

Aspyn cut her off. "If you're so sorry, give me money."

"What?"

Avayah froze, her tears momentarily forgotten.

Aspyn gave a humorless smile. "Didn't you say you wanted to make it up to me? How about a million a year? Three million total. Seems fair, right?"

Avayah was completely dumbfounded. She hadn't expected Aspyn to ask for cash.

After a long pause, she finally managed, "Three... three million is too much. I don't have that kind of money."

She was spoiled, sure, had an allowance—but nowhere near millions. Even if she had a few hundred thousand lying around, she wasn't about to hand it over.

"Too much?" Aspyn stared at her. "I did three years for you. Isn't that worth three million?"

"No, that's not—" Avayah bit her lip, looking miserable. "I'll... I'll figure something out."

She scurried out of the room. Not long after, the door slammed open—this time kicked in by Grant, his face thunderous.

"You come back and immediately start trouble in this family. Can't you just keep the peace?"

"You know Avayah's health isn't great, and you go and bully her?"

Aspyn met Grant's gaze coolly. Her brother—who hadn't asked her a single question about what she'd been through, but was quick to come at her like this.

"Why don't you ask what I actually did to her?" Aspyn turned to Avayah, who was hovering behind Grant, looking upset. "Did I insult you? Hit you? Or did I frame you and get you thrown in prison?"

"No, no…"

Avayah shook her head frantically. The words "frame" and "prison" made her panic.

"Grant, she didn't do anything to me. Let's just go."

Seeing Avayah so shaken, Grant's chest tightened. He tried to soothe her. "Don't worry. I'm here. She's not going to mess with you."

Aspyn, arms crossed, leaned against the wall, watching the whole sibling soap opera with bored indifference.

"If you're not here with money, please leave. I need to rest."

"Money? What money?" Grant couldn't help but ask.

Avayah had come to him earlier, eyes red, too upset to explain. Seeing her like that, Grant had just assumed Aspyn was bullying her, and he'd rushed over to intervene.

"Your sister just offered to give me three million."

Years ago, when Aspyn had first been brought into the family, their father had given her a card with a million bucks. She'd given it back then.

At the time, she hadn't wanted the money. She'd wanted family.

She wouldn't be that naive again.

Pride didn't pay the bills. Might as well take what was hers. Those three million? Well-earned.

Even Grant Guzman, hearing the three-million-dollar demand, couldn't help but furrow his brow. Beside him, Avayah whispered, "I think Aspyn didn't mean it. She doesn't have that kind of money, so..."

Grant's chest warmed. His sister was too kind, too gentle. Three million? He could swing it. If it made Avayah happy, it was worth every penny.

He grabbed his checkbook, scrawled out a check, and tossed it at Aspyn's feet like trash.

"There you go!" His eyes brimmed with disdain, daring her to say a word.

Aspyn looked at the check on the floor, then lifted her gaze to meet his, icy and unblinking.

"Grant, don't act like you're doing charity. This money is what I'm owed. You pay for services, right? You pay your employees, don't you? I spent three years on your precious sister. Isn't three million justified?"

"You—" Grant's temper flared. He grabbed her arm on instinct, stretching the blouse off her shoulder.

He froze at the sight of thick scars crisscrossing her skin.

"What the hell is that?"

Aspyn glanced at her shoulder, her eyes darkening. She shook him off and adjusted her blouse. "Can't you see? I got hurt."

"How?" Grant frowned, genuinely puzzled.

Aspyn let out a mirthless laugh. "What do you think prison is like, Grant?"

His name on her lips—not "Mr. Guzman"—made Grant want to lash out, but her mocking stare stole his fire. Guilt crept in, and he looked away, defensive. "I had people keeping an eye on you. They said you were fine."

"Hah!" Aspyn laughed, her eyes going cold. She shoved both Grant and Avayah out of her room and slammed the door.

Grant wanted to storm back, but those scars haunted him. He'd shelled out serious cash to keep her safe in there. How could she've been hurt?

Then he thought about her voice. It wasn't the same—no more bright and clear, but rough and worn. What the hell had happened to her in those years?

The next morning, Aspyn was up early, ready in the living room. She'd actually slept well for once, no need to stay on alert.

Jay came down shortly after, not sparing her a glance. He just went about his routine. It was always like this—Grant would occasionally speak to her, Ezekiel might acknowledge her if he was in a good mood, but Jay stayed aloof, treating her like air, saving all his warmth for Avayah.

Funny thing was, her desperate need to connect with Jay—the family's academic star—had pushed her to excel in school. That's where she'd found her passion for biochemistry. But before she could ever have that conversation with him, she'd been locked away.

Now, she didn't want it. Didn't need it.

They coexisted in silence, a strange sort of peace.

Jay couldn't help glancing at her. She was glued to her phone, no intention of talking. He frowned. She used to hover around him, quiet but always there. Now, her indifference threw him off, though he told himself it suited him—he had no patience for nonsense anyway.

Soon, their mother and Avayah came down, noticing the siblings sitting apart, no interaction. Their mother sighed, resigned. Avayah's lips curled into a barely-there smile.

"Hey, Jay!" Avayah chirped, bouncing over to loop her arm through his. "Did you wait long?"

"Not long. Let's eat first. I'll take you to school after." Jay patted her head.

"Okay!"

Avayah beamed, and only then did she "notice" Aspyn. "You ready, Aspyn? Let's eat together?"

"Already ate," Aspyn said, not looking up.

She'd cooked herself a bowl of pasta earlier, just to avoid sitting with them. School would be a nice escape.

Their mother noticed Aspyn still in yesterday's clothes. "I had some clothes bought in your size last night. Let me know if they fit."

A housekeeper had chosen a T-shirt and jeans in her size. The clothes were impersonal, but at least they were practical—exactly what Aspyn preferred.

"Thanks, ma'am."

She went up to change.

Tall and lean, the outfit looked good on her. Clean, sharp. Her hair was cut short, adding to the neat look.

Their mother was about to compliment her when she saw a long scar on Aspyn's right arm—clearly from something sharp. She gasped.

"Your arm..."

Aspyn glanced at it, chuckling. "It's nothing. Just a nick."

Had she complained, their mother might've felt better. But her calm, matter-of-fact tone only stoked the guilt in her chest.

Their mother wasn't a fool. That wasn't a scratch. And with the scar on Aspyn's wrist too, she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

Aspyn's years in prison had been hell.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Aspyn's steady gaze left her wordless.

After they left, Grant finally came down. Their mother couldn't hold it in.

"Is it true she had a rough time in there? Didn't you make sure she was taken care of?"

Grant didn't have an answer, his face darkening. "I'll look into it."

"Please do. She's your sister. We can't have people thinking we mistreated her," their mother said softly.

In the car, Aspyn took her usual spot in the back, quiet and invisible. Jay chatted with Avayah, occasionally glancing at Aspyn in the mirror. She just stared out the window, never once looking back.

Finally, Jay broke the silence. "I'll take you to admissions later."

"No need, Jay. I've got it," Aspyn said, turning him down.

"Suit yourself!" Jay's face went cold.

He'd offered an olive branch, and she'd thrown it back. Have it her way.

At school, Aspyn found the admin office and handled her enrollment without a hitch. She was dying to switch her major.

What she'd expected to be a hassle turned out suspiciously easy—maybe the Guzmens had pulled strings, or maybe because she'd already been minoring in biochem.

Switching from literature to biochemistry was seamless. A genuine smile finally spread across Aspyn's face.

She had money now. She had her dream major. Everything was falling into place.

That happiness lasted barely an hour. She walked into the biochem office and found Jay and Avayah standing there. Small world.

Jay frowned. "Weren't you in literature? What are you doing here?"

Was she here for him? So she'd been pretending all morning, just to get his attention?

Aspyn had no idea what was going on in Jay Guzman's head. It wasn't exactly shocking to find him here—he'd stayed on as a lecturer after graduation. Deciding not to overthink it, she said coolly, "I switched my major to chemical biology."

As soon as she said it, she caught a flicker of something ugly in Jay's eyes—sarcasm, maybe even disdain.

"That's awesome, sis! We'll be in the same department again. Jay's teaching chemical biology too!" Avayah chimed in brightly, her voice grating in Aspyn's ears. Aspyn's mouth tightened. Sharing a department with both of them was the last thing she wanted.

Faced with a choice between a major she had zero interest in or putting up with the Guzman siblings, she went with the latter—because she needed lab access. That was the only reason.

With that thought, her mood lifted slightly as she walked over to the department coordinator to apply for lab access.

"I'm sorry, but freshmen aren't allowed to use the lab. It's a safety protocol, you understand," the coordinator explained, sounding genuinely kind.

"I'm not exactly a freshman," Aspyn countered. "You can check the records. I took a year of chemical biology as an elective three years ago."

The coordinator typed in her details, and his expression shifted. He looked at her with something almost like sympathy. "I'm sorry, but you still can't use the lab."

"Why not?" Aspyn's forehead creased. She'd taken chemical biology before, and she'd applied for lab use multiple times—she clearly knew how to handle herself in there.

The coordinator sighed. "I apologize, but you're restricted from using it. At least for the next ninety days."

The way he stressed "ninety days" said it all. Aspyn's face went pale.

How could she have forgotten? She was still in her first ninety days on parole. The university's risk-management office would treat her record as a liability, especially in a lab filled with controlled chemicals.

And even after the intensive-supervision period ended, her record could still keep her from getting access.

Falling from grace was fast. Aspyn couldn't hide her disappointment—even Jay noticed, throwing her a second look.

But in a heartbeat, she pulled herself together, thanked the coordinator politely, and walked out.

"Aspyn..." Avayah called after her, but didn't follow.

Jay, remembering the sadness that had flickered across Aspyn's face, felt a twinge of unease. He quickly told Avayah, "Go ahead and explore the department," before going after Aspyn.

With his long strides, he caught up to her easily. "Why didn't you tell the family you took chemical biology three years ago?"

Aspyn glanced at him, her eyes free of sarcasm this time, yet Jay still felt guilty.

Sure, starting a new course was a big deal, and they hadn't known. He vaguely remembered her grades being excellent, but no one had ever bothered to ask what she wanted to study. They only ever cared about Avayah's choices.

Feeling restless and a little guilty, he said coolly, "Chemical biology isn't really a girly subject. You shouldn't have picked it just to be near me."

"No matter what you study, you're still my sister. That's a biological fact," he added.

He didn't actually believe Aspyn liked chemical biology. He figured she'd chosen it because of him. He remembered how she used to try every which way to talk to him, and how he'd mostly ignored her. Once, out of pure irritation, he'd snapped, "What should we talk about? Molecular transformations? Genetic codes? Do you even get any of it?"

After that, Aspyn had left him alone. Remembering it now made him soften a little, and he spoke like he was doing her a favor: "I'll talk to you from now on."

Seeing his self-important attitude, Aspyn couldn't help but laugh. "Really?"

Her reaction irritated him. "Can't you respond properly?"

He'd already extended an olive branch—how ungrateful could she be?

"Oh my! It's 2034, yet dinosaurs like you still exist?" Aspyn shot back. "Dear Mr. Jay Guzman, you've really expanded my worldview."

She hadn't meant to start a fight, but Jay's words kept hitting every sore spot while she was already in a bad mood.

Yes, initially she'd gotten into chemical biology because of Jay. But later... it became something she genuinely loved.

Now, she had zero desire to please anyone.

They weren't worth it.

Jay didn't catch the dinosaur jab, but he knew it wasn't flattering. His mild demeanor vanished, replaced by bitterness. "Aspyn, you'll regret this!"

Regret? Never.

Her biggest regret was coming back to the Guzman family and groveling to placate her so-called relatives.

Aspyn couldn't be bothered with Jay anymore. She walked away, leaving him stewing in his own bitterness.

After standing there for a while, Jay walked off too.

Once they were both gone, a tall figure stepped out from around the corner.

The man was wearing a shirt and trousers despite the scorching summer heat, his shirt buttoned all the way up, neat as a pin. He had a long neck leading to a firm jaw, thin lips, and a distinguished nose. Above that sat deep, expressive eyes, partly hidden behind thin-framed glasses that masked a certain sharpness.

Passing students greeted him with respect. "Professor Stewart!"

Isaias Stewart nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

He hadn't planned on eavesdropping on the siblings' conversation. But when he'd arrived, they were already in the thick of an argument. Interrupting would've been awkward, so he'd unintentionally found himself listening.

He didn't know the details of their relationship, but he had to admit—the girl's comebacks were pretty damn impressive.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, but it vanished as quickly as it came when he remembered why he was at the university today.

Would he find "Union" this time?

Three years had passed, and "Union" seemed to have vanished into thin air.

In his search for anything on "Union," he'd even taken a teaching position here. But it had all been for nothing.

Meanwhile, after parting ways with Jay, Aspyn left the university. Since she couldn't use the lab, there was no rush. She wanted to visit her grandmother first.

Three years had passed. Was Grandma okay?

"What? She's not here?"

Aspyn frowned. "Could you check again?"

"No record of the patient exists. Our records show she was discharged three years ago," the nurse confirmed, turning the computer screen toward Aspyn.

The discharge date lined up perfectly with right after Aspyn went to prison.

Had Grandma been cured? Grant had promised to find the best doctor for her surgery.

Aspyn thought for a moment, then hailed a cab to the hospital where her grandmother had been treated.