Chapter 3

When our senior year wrapped up, the Hayes family’s driver pulled up to the campus gates to pick us up for summer break.

I was already sitting in the backseat waiting for him.

Julian yanked the door open and barked, "Get out."

Behind him stood Gemma, clutching her duffel bag.

"This is my family's car. Get out," he repeated coldly. "I'm driving Gemma home on the way. Call an Uber."

My eyes stung. Growing up, I had never been pushed around or humiliated by anyone—except Julian Hayes.

Pulling my backpack over my shoulder, I climbed out onto the curb.

Gemma tilted her head, feigning innocent surprise. "Chloe, doesn't your family have cars? I thought you were supposed to be super wealthy."

I didn't give her the satisfaction of an answer.

By the time my rideshare dropped me off at our villa, it was almost dinner time.

My mom popped her head out of the kitchen. "Chloe, we're having dinner next door at Eleanor's tonight. Head over first."

Despite the tragedy between our families, the parents had maintained their close friendship. The adults were mature enough not to let grief turn into senseless vendettas.

Mom handed me a container of homemade pastries she had spent hours baking. The sweet, buttery aroma made my mouth water.

"Take these over to Julian," Mom added gently.

I stared down at the warm box.

Growing up, Julian had loved these treats as much as I did. We used to bicker over the last piece at the breakfast table.

Surely, he wouldn't reject food from his childhood? At least this would check off my mom’s assignment.

I walked next door and knocked on his bedroom door.

To my surprise, Gemma opened it.

She blinked, clearly startled to see me standing there, and her eyes flicked down to the plastic container in my hands with unmistakable disgust.

"What are you doing here?"

Hearing the noise, Julian walked over to the doorway, his brows furrowing deep.

"Why are you in my house? I told you I don't want to see you."

I held up the box. "My mom baked these for you. You loved them when we were kids."

"Stop bringing up the past," he snapped, his voice venomous. "Anything that comes out of your house disgusts me."

I stood frozen in the hallway.

He didn't hate the food. He just hated me.

Gemma stepped forward with a condescending smile. "Chloe, you know how Julian gets, don't take it personally. But street-style comfort food really isn't the cleanest. We're about to sit down for dinner, do you want to join us?"

She tilted her chin up slightly, looking at me like an unwelcome guest begging for scraps.

I pulled the pastries back, handed them to their housekeeper, Martha, and asked her to plate them for dinner.

Then I smiled sweetly at Gemma. "Sure. That was the plan all along."

Downstairs in the dining room, Gemma froze when my parents walked through the front door and took their seats at the table.

Only when Julian’s mother, Eleanor, warmly introduced Gemma as a guest did she regain her composed, humble persona.

Throughout dinner, our parents chatted warmly, catching up like old friends. Julian sat in stony silence, his face like a thundercloud.

Nobody paid much attention to his mood except Gemma, who kept placing food on his plate.

Halfway through the meal, Eleanor brought up our future plans.

"You kids are all graduating now. You have to think carefully about the next step—whether you pursue graduate school or jump straight into the corporate world will shape your twenties."

Gemma chimed in politely, "Mrs. Hayes is absolutely right. For kids from ordinary backgrounds like Chloe and me, securing a solid job offer is top priority. Chloe spends too much time with her head buried in textbooks. She really should get more internship experience to pad her resume if she wants a decent corporate offer. Don't you think so, Chloe?"