Chapter 2Ditching Him Made Me A Billionaire

The next morning, I stepped out of the alley with dark circles bruised under my eyes.

Two hundred words. It had taken me until three in the morning to commit them all to memory.

As I reached the corner of the street, a middle-aged woman in a faded, greasy floral housecoat stepped out to block my path.

It was Travis's mother, Mrs. Shaw.

She was cracking sunflower seeds, spitting the shells onto the cracked asphalt, eyeing me up and down.

"Maeve, sweetheart, grab Travis a breakfast burrito from the deli on your way to school. He's growing, he needs his energy."

She stuck out her hand, expecting me to drop cash into it as I always did.

For years, she had done this. Every morning, she found some excuse to make me spend my meager allowance on her son. She’d always tell me how my useless father didn't care about me, how lucky I was to have Travis looking out for me, and how once I "joined their family," I’d finally know what comfort felt like. My money was Travis's money, in her eyes.

I took a step back, dodging a flying seed shell.

"I can't, Mrs. Shaw. Travis took my lunch card yesterday. I don't have a single cent on me."

Her expression soured instantly, her eyes narrowing into hostile slits.

"No money? Go borrow some then! If you can't even handle a simple task like this, how are you going to take care of my boy later? If it weren't for my Travis keeping those street thugs off your back, you'd have been eaten alive by now!"

I didn't argue. I just walked past her toward the bus stop.

Her entire family had come to view bleeding me dry as their god-given right.

When I walked into the homeroom, I immediately noticed my desk had been messed with.

My books were scattered everywhere.

The AP Bio notebook I had spent all night organizing was currently folded in half, jammed under the leg of Travis's desk to keep it from wobbling.

Travis slung his backpack over his chair and saw me staring at the floor. He gave his desk a careless kick.

"What? Courtney said the desk was rocking, so I just grabbed some scrap paper of yours to steady it."

On the cover of my notebook was a dark ink stain from where I’d fallen asleep working the night before.

I tried to swallow the sharp sting in my chest.

I knelt down, pulled the notebook out from under the desk leg with a violent yank, and threw it directly into the trash can.

Travis’s face darkened instantly. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a heavy switchblade, and slammed it onto my desk with a loud "clack".

"What the hell is wrong with you today, Maeve? Who do you think you're throwing attitude at?"

"Keep this in your bag. The Dean is doing random locker sweeps for contraband at noon. You're a good student; they won't search you."

Looking at the cold silver gleam of the blade, my palms broke out in a cold sweat.

The future me was entirely correct. This knife was the catalyst for the fight this afternoon. He didn't give a damn if I got suspended or expelled for carrying it.

I took a deep breath, picked up the knife, and shoved it right back into his jacket pocket.

"No. Keep it yourself."

Travis froze.

He clearly hadn't expected me—always the quiet, obedient shadow—to actually refuse him.

The whispers in the classroom died down as our classmates turned to look.

Travis's face flushed a violent red. He grabbed me by the collar of my hoodie, pulling me close as he hissed through his teeth.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me no? You're a piece of trash with a junkie father. If I wasn't the one keeping you safe, nobody in this town would even look at you!"

He let go of me, kicked over the trash can containing my ruined notebook, and stormed out of the classroom.

I smoothed down the crumpled collar of my hoodie, sat down, and opened my test prep.

My pen scraped across the paper in sharp, deliberate strokes.

I felt a quiet ache in my chest—not of longing, but the sickening realization that ten years of devotion had been given to a monster.