Chapter 2Thirty Days In Your Skin

On the morning of the sixth day, I was sitting in the campus library when my academic advisor called.

"Samantha, come to my office immediately."

"Someone filed an anonymous report accusing you of grand larceny. An audio recording and the police inquiry logs were sent straight to the dean."

I closed my textbook. "Understood. I'm on my way."

When I reached the office door, Samantha was already standing in the hallway.

She crossed her arms and smirked. "If you walk in there right now, your fellowship is gone. You're wearing my identity. You have no money, no connections. The only thing you actually have to your name are those academic transcripts."

I reached for the door handle, but she stepped in front of it.

"Beg me," she whispered. "Beg me, just once, and I'll walk in there right now and tell the professor the whole necklace thing was a misunderstanding."

"No need." I bypassed her and walked into the office.

My advisor’s desk was littered with Samantha's thesis drafts, heavily marked with his red pen.

Seeing me enter, he slammed the incident report onto his desk.

"You've been top of your cohort for four years! The fellowship roster was just finalized! Why on earth would you let something like this happen right now?"

I lowered my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dr. Wallace."

"I don't want your apologies." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "The Beaumonts aren't pressing charges. If Eleanor Beaumont is willing to formally state this was a private misunderstanding, I can still fight for you with the disciplinary committee. Don't throw your life away."

Just then, he noticed Samantha lingering outside the glass door.

"Miss Beaumont, please come in. Was this necklace situation a misunderstanding?"

Samantha stepped inside, her face a mask of polite hesitation. "Professor, could I have a private word with Samantha out in the hall first?"

Once we reached the end of the corridor, the gentle façade melted off her face.

"Your entire future is hanging on a single word from me. Even now, you won't beg?"

I looked at her calmly. "Do you really want to hear it that badly?"

"Obviously."

"Then I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

She glared at me for several seconds, her jaw tight, before spinning on her heel and marching back into the office.

"Professor Wallace, she really did steal it," Samantha said, her voice dripping with sorrow. "Personally, I don't want to press charges. But if the university bends its ethical guidelines just because my family says so... is that really fair to the other students?"

Dr. Wallace sat in stunned silence for a long time.

When I finally stepped out of the office, he called me back, shoving a legal document into my hands.

"There’s one more thing. The corporate-sponsored research grant you've been working on has a strict morality clause. If you are expelled from the program over this, you are liable to return the upfront project funding and pay the breach of contract fee."

I flipped to the last page. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"

"Give or take." Dr. Wallace looked at me, a deep sadness in his eyes. "That's why I told you to negotiate with the Beaumonts. Samantha, don't back yourself into a corner you can't get out of."

I closed the folder. "It's fine. Proceed according to the university's regulations."

Three days later, the official notices dropped.

Fellowship revoked. Research grant terminated. Ordered to repay $250,000 within thirty days.

As I stood in front of the department bulletin board, Samantha materialized behind me.

"Without the Beaumont family, the only thing this identity had going for it was its academic pedigree. Now that's gone, too. Does it hurt?"

She tapped her finger against the printed penalty amount. "A quarter of a million dollars. How are you going to pay that back?"

When I returned to the estate that evening, my parents had already heard the news.

My father spoke first. "If the fellowship is gone, just finish your bachelor's degree. Once you graduate, I'll set you up with an entry-level position at the firm."

He paused. "Young people make mistakes. It’s not the end of the world. Don't give up on yourself."

When it came to the $250,000, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "I will front the money to cover this debt for you."

My mother nodded immediately. "Yes. Pay the university back first. Keep your options open."

Samantha practically leaped off the sofa. "Dad, you can't pay it for her!"

Her voice was so shrill and frantic that even my father shot her a startled look.

She caught herself, forcing her tone to soften. "I'm not trying to be vindictive. But... it's because of this money that she'll actually learn her lesson. If the Beaumonts bail her out this time, what happens next time? She created this mess; she needs to take responsibility for it."

She turned to me, her eyes flashing. "If you can't afford it, get a job and pay it off slowly. You can't expect other people to clean up your disasters forever."

I looked at my parents.

They were desperately trying to build a safety net for "Samantha"—while their actual "daughter" stood beside them, frantically trying to burn that net to the ground.

My father fell silent. After a long moment, he asked, "Samantha, what do you think?"

My gaze shifted to Samantha's face.

She was tense. Sweating.

She was terrified that the Beaumont family would actually pay off the debt, terrified that the grave she had meticulously dug for me would be filled back in.

"I have a way to handle it," I said softly.

Late that night, I had just unlocked my phone in my bedroom when Samantha pushed the door open.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is pocket change to me now. It's the price of a vintage Birkin," she sneered. "Get on your knees. Tell me you were wrong, and promise you'll never try to compete with me again. If it puts me in a good mood, maybe I'll actually pay it off for you."

I ignored her.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

[Initial document review approved. Please proceed with the final signing tomorrow.]

The university and the corporate sponsors were too regulated; if I defaulted, they would just follow standard legal protocol.

That wasn't dangerous enough.

I needed to transfer this debt to someone who, thirty days from now, would never, "ever" let Samantha Russo off the hook.

The next day, I finalized the paperwork for a predatory, high-interest private loan from a shadow lender. As soon as the funds hit the account, I instantly wired the money to clear the university penalty.

The first repayment date for the new loan was set for Day 31.

The very first day we would be back in our own bodies.