The heavy iron door slammed shut, plunging everything into darkness.

I lay sprawled on the ground, my voice raw and shredded as I screamed for help.

I lost track of time. Then—footsteps outside.

I practically threw myself at the door. "Help me—"

The door swung open.

It was Dad.

His face was tight with panic. He rushed in and pulled me into his arms.

"Son? What happened? I kept calling but couldn't get through. When I called Samantha, she said you were at some party."

"You'd never go out partying right before the college entrance exam—I knew something was wrong! I came looking for you immediately. I never imagined you'd be locked inside the school!"

"Was it Samantha? What's gotten into that girl?"

Two lifetimes apart, and here he was—alive, breathing, real.

I collapsed into his chest and sobbed.

Dad froze, completely at a loss. "Don't be scared. Tell me what happened."

"I'm fine." I wiped my tears and forced myself to stay calm.

Crashing their little party now would be letting them off too easy.

I wanted them to regret this for the rest of their lives.

When Mom arrived and saw the cuts and bruises covering my body, her expression shifted instantly.

But I just whispered, "I'm okay, Mom. I don't want to go to college here anymore. I want to study abroad—settle overseas with you and Dad."

In my past life, I'd given up an acceptance letter from a prestigious foreign university, all because Samantha had said, "Let's go to college together."

I'd taken the national exam instead.

And look where that got me.

This time, I wasn't going to gamble on her actually keeping my exam admission ticket safe.

This exam? I was done with it.

Back home, I passed out and slept fitfully until the early hours, my dreams filled with flashes of my previous life.

When I woke again, my pillow was soaked with tears.

I dried my eyes, swapped my SIM card into an old phone, and powered it on.

My feed was flooded with updates from classmates—and from Samantha and Roger.

In one photo, Roger was leaning back against Samantha's chest, his face flushed as he grinned up at her. She gazed down at him, the picture of tenderness.

I glanced at it once, then noticed the empty fruit wine cans piled on the table behind them.

That much alcohol? Forget affecting their exam performance—some of them might not even wake up tomorrow.

Someone had posted a video. The crowd was chanting: "Kiss! Kiss!"

Samantha pressed herself against Roger, kissing him desperately, deeply—a thin string of saliva still connecting their lips when they finally pulled apart.

Disgust churned in my stomach. I closed the video.

The latest post was from Roger. Clearly set to only visible to me.

I opened it. Heavy, ragged breathing filled my ears.

I frowned at the two bodies tangled together on screen. I didn't need to look closely to know the other person was Samantha.

Roger's voice came through between gasps, dripping with mockery:

"Daryl, Samantha says she loves me best. Says she wants to have my baby as a birthday present. What makes a boring little bookworm like you think you can compete with me?"

Then he sent a photo of an exam admission ticket—torn to shreds.

"I made her choose between you and me. To prove her loyalty, she ripped up your ticket. Said this way she won't have to go to the same university as you. Gives her an excuse to finally dump you."

"Can't wait to see you fall apart tomorrow, haha. Consider this an early congratulations on repeating senior year. Enjoy being a super-senior! "

Even though I'd already braced myself for my ticket being destroyed, seeing those scattered pieces still made my breath catch. A dull ache spread through my chest.

Three years of sleepless nights. Three years of relentless effort.

Gone. Just like that. Destroyed on a whim.

The sound of a phone ringing drifted in from the living room.

I opened my door just as Dad answered, his face shifting to shock. "What? A Westbridge High student? A senior about to take the exam? Alcohol poisoning?" He grabbed his keys. "I'm on my way."

His face was pale, drenched in sweat.

When he looked up and saw me, he assumed I was worried about my classmates and rushed to reassure me.

"Don't be scared. It might not be anyone from your class. I'm heading over now—and even if it is them, I'll do everything I can to get them back on their feet. I won't let anything interfere with tomorrow's exam."

I looked at my father's anxious face, and my mind drifted to my previous life.

Back then, I'd been so worried that my classmates had actually gone out drinking that I'd dragged my father to the school bus stop with me the next morning. I just wanted him nearby in case someone showed up hungover—he could help them recover quickly.

But those ungrateful bastards had turned around and told everyone the same lie: that my father had come to help me threaten them.

That lie was why those deranged internet vigilantes—claiming to avenge Roger—had shown up at our door.

That lie was why my family was dead.

Not this time.

This time, I would never let my father get dragged into this mess.

The next morning, I ate the breakfast my father made with his own hands, then took the bus to school.

The minutes ticked closer to departure time, but the pickup point for the college entrance exam shuttle was eerily quiet.

The teachers' expressions grew darker by the second.

"What's going on? Is the Elite Track planning to skip the exam entirely?"

Mr. Bennett rushed over, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Behind him trailed a handful of students, their faces ashen.

The moment they saw me, their eyes darted away—guilty, regretful.

Principal Harrington's face was thunderous as he listened to Mr. Bennett's stammering explanation. His fury finally boiled over.

"I told you—told you—to watch what you eat before the exam! To get proper rest! And what do you do? Go out drinking at a bar the night before?!"

"Now only five of you can even sit for the exam! The rest are in the hospital getting their stomachs pumped—and some are in the ICU?!"

"Have you all lost your minds? You want to destroy your own futures, fine—but did you have to take my career down with you?!"

His shouting drew the attention of nearby parents and reporters.

"Good lord. We're over here cooking every meal with surgical precision, and these kids go and drink themselves into alcohol poisoning."

"Going out partying and drinking right before the biggest exam of their lives? Some 'academic elite.' They're no better than delinquents."

"My kid's grades aren't anything special, but at least she knows how to take responsibility for herself. These top students' parents must be losing their minds."

"I've been in media for years, and I've never seen an entire class drink themselves out of taking the college entrance exam." The reporters raised their cameras.

Principal Harrington's face had gone from red to gray. He clutched his chest, voice cracking with despair. "I'm finished. The school is finished!"

Ms. Parker—who had always favored Samantha and Roger—went pale. "Where are Samantha and Roger? They're our best shots at Stonebridge University!"

Mr. Bennett kept his head down, his voice rough. "We can't reach them. We've already called the police."

Principal Harrington staggered. His face darkened further, one hand pressed over his heart. Then his gaze landed on me, and something like hope flickered in his eyes.

"Daryl is a good kid—didn't get caught up in their nonsense. We might still salvage one Stonebridge acceptance this year."

I lowered my eyes, letting a look of regret cross my face. "Samantha was afraid I'd report her. She took my exam admission ticket. She still hasn't shown up... I might not be able to take the test."

Thud.

Principal Harrington collapsed.

Chaos erupted. Some rushed him to the hospital. Others herded the remaining students toward the exam site.

I boarded the bus. The atmosphere inside was suffocating. Someone had already started crying.

"My dad's going to kill me... I never should've gone to that bar..."

"What am I going to do? I'll never get into a top university now... This is all Roger's fault..."

I stared out the window, expression blank, listening to them weep.

Weren't you all geniuses? Didn't you say the exam was just a formality?

So now you're scared of failing? Now you know how to cry?

At the exam site, just as I'd expected, I was turned away at the gate—no admission ticket, no entry.

One of my classmates caught my eye, guilt flickering across their face. "I'm sorry," they whispered.

I confirmed there was no way in, then turned and walked away.

Dad's face had gone a dangerous shade of red. He kept switching between worry for me and cursing Samantha's name.

But before we could even leave the campus grounds, the situation had already exploded.

Parents from the Elite Track had banded together, launching a livestream. They issued a joint statement demanding police involvement, threatening lawyers, insisting the school hold Samantha and Roger accountable.

A scandal breaking during the college entrance exams? The internet went nuclear.

Netizens flooded Roger's social media, calling him a "life-ruiner," a "parasite," worse.

Then Roger—who'd been radio silent all day—suddenly went live.

Samantha sat beside him, her face pale and drawn.

His expression was mournful, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea things would turn out like this. We just wanted to have some cake. It was my classmate Daryl who insisted on ordering drinks. He said they were non-alcoholic, that we could drink as much as we wanted."

He paused, swallowing hard. "Yes, people had a bit too much last night—but they got to the hospital in time. They should have been fine. It was Daryl. He wanted revenge, so he had his father—he's a department chief at that hospital—deliberately botch the treatment. That's why everyone ended up with alcohol poisoning."

He nudged Samantha. "You're his childhood friend, aren't you? You can back me up, right?"

Samantha's body went rigid. Under his insistent gaze, she slowly lifted her head. Something flickered in her eyes—a battle—before she finally clenched her jaw and spoke.

"Yes. I can confirm it. Daryl was the one who insisted on ordering alcohol. He's always been jealous of Roger, jealous of everyone in our class who's more talented than him." She paused. "And his father really is a doctor at that hospital."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Were they insane?

And yet people believed it.

The same parents who'd been screaming for Samantha and Roger's heads moments ago now wheeled on me and Dad, demanding answers.

CRASH.

The car window shattered. A U-lock came through and connected with Dad's forehead. Blood poured down his face instantly.

The car lurched to a stop. My body slammed into the windshield, and everything went black for a moment.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard screaming:

"Beat these animals to death! They put my son in the ICU just to bully their classmates! I want them dead!"

Another parent joined in immediately:

"They deserve it! A doctor who'd commit malpractice to help his son hurt others? Break his hands! See if he can practice medicine then!"

I screamed back with everything I had: "We didn't do anything! Check the surveillance footage! I wasn't even at that bar! And my dad wasn't on shift last night!"

Dad, blood streaming down his face, dragged himself in front of me and covered my body with his own. "Don't be scared. Dad's here."

Tears poured down my face. I screamed until my throat tore: "You've been lied to!"

My phone lit up.

A text from Samantha:

"I'm sorry, Daryl. Roger's family doesn't have money. If he gets sued, his life is over. Your family can afford the compensation, so we had to pin it on you. Once you get through this, we can repeat senior year together and go to the same university. Okay?"

I laughed—a hollow, broken sound.

So that's how it is.

Roger couldn't afford to pay, so these parents were happy to redirect their rage at me instead. Because my family had money. Because they figured they could tear off a bigger piece of flesh.

"Samantha Gilbert, you piece of garbage! You deserve to rot!"

The mob dragged me and my blood-soaked father out of the car.

Fists. Feet. From every direction.

Someone held up their phone and started streaming.

Soon enough, Roger and Samantha were watching from the other side of a screen.

Roger exhaled in relief, pulling her close. "Thank you for saving me, Samantha."

She forced a smile, but guilt and panic still swam in her eyes. "As long as you're okay... I'd do anything for you."

In the midst of the chaos, Mom burst through the crowd, scattering the parents like a force of nature.

She planted herself in front of us, her voice a raw, furious roar: "Don't you dare touch my husband and son!"

She raised her phone, her tone shifting to something ice-cold and unyielding:

"The person who actually hurt your children is Roger James. I've already uploaded the proof online. If you don't believe me, go see for yourselves."