She was violated by her stepbrother, and the unbearable weight of it led her to self-harm until there wasn’t an inch of her body left untouched. She said, as long as I send her stepbrother to accompany her in the afterlife, she would allow me to continue using her body. When I saw her stepfather, I decided to send them both to the afterlife to be with her. It felt like someone was holding me underwater, my lungs running out of air, leaving me unable to breathe. A man’s soft, low voice echoed in my ears, “Chloe Watson, you better recognize who your master is.” Suddenly, I was yanked up by the collar, pulled out of the bathtub, fresh oxygen flooding my chest as I gasped for air. Water cascaded over my head, blurring my vision. I wiped my face and saw the one who had grabbed me: a boy with narrow, shadowed eyes and a tense jawline. He snickered. “Chloe Watson, are you trying to drown yourself?” Who’s Chloe Watson? I’m Olivia Dawner. I tried to speak, but my throat was so dry I couldn’t make a sound. The boy gave me a disgusted look and tossed me back into the tub. I glanced around. I was supposed to be on a plane, not in some bathroom I’d never seen before. I looked in the mirror at the person staring back at me—pale skin, dark circles under the eyes from what seemed like chronic lack of sleep. After a few moments, I couldn’t stand the sight anymore. My clothes were stuck to my body, and I wanted to change into something dry. But when I took off my clothes, I froze in shock. This body was covered in bruises and thin scars running up and down the arms. The poor girl must have been in so much mental anguish to do this to herself. As I changed into clean clothes, I began to realize—I had reincarnated, and now I was in someone else’s body. Stepping out of the bathroom, I scanned the room. Girls like this, so sensitive, must keep a diary of their inner turmoil. I started searching for it when suddenly, a voice from behind said, “It’s in the second drawer on the left, the one with the embossed cover.” “Oh, thanks,” I responded instinctively, then immediately felt something was off. My spine stiffened, and I turned toward the voice.
A girl, who looked exactly like the body I was now in, was leaning against the wall, staring at me with a strange expression. I screamed. I’m not afraid of anything, but I’m terrified of ghosts. For a second, I thought I was about to have a heart attack. The ghost rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Stop screaming!” I went silent immediately. “I didn’t think you’d be such a scaredy-cat,” she said, stepping closer. I was so frightened I fell to the floor, which made her look even more puzzled. “I heard you used to be tough, not afraid of anyone. Was that just a rumor?” “But I’m scared of ghosts…” She leaned down, trying to help me up, but as soon as she touched me, her hand passed right through my body, which only freaked me out more. I was so terrified I felt physically ill—who could understand? I scrambled back until I hit the edge of the desk, tears filling my eyes. “I didn’t mean to take your body! I have no idea what happened. I was dead, but then…” I hiccuped through my sobs. “I woke up in your body…” “Must’ve been a glitch in the afterlife’s system,” I rambled, more and more anxious. She was probably here to reclaim her body. Chloe Watson frowned at me. “You don’t sound like how The Reaper described you. He said you were fearless, that even the most dangerous people respected you.” I was nearly sobbing now, convinced the ghost was going to take my life. I hadn’t stopped being afraid of ghosts just because I’d died once. Chloe, clearly irritated, snapped, “Stop crying!” Her sharp tone immediately choked off my tears. She gave me a look. “I’ve never seen anyone as cowardly as you.” I stammered, “W-what do you want?”
Chloe tilted her head. “I need you to do something for me.” I asked cautiously, “Why me?” “You’re the smartest of everyone who died around the same time as me. The Reaper said I could only choose someone from that group.” Of course, I’m smart. No wonder she picked me. “Did the Reaper say I could go back to my own body?” Chloe shook her head. “You died in a plane crash. The wreckage was so bad it took a man named Ethan Clint and his team a long time to find your remains.” “Ethan Clint?” Chloe’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Is he your boyfriend?” I scowled and whispered, “No, he’s the guy you mentioned earlier—the one everyone treats with respect.” I wanted to ask about her scars and why she’d taken her life, but before I could speak, she changed the subject again, gossiping. “I heard someone traded twenty years of their life to bring you back,” she said, resting her head on her hand. “Do you know who?” I shook my head. “Do you?” She also shook her head. “You’re lucky. Someone gave up a lot for you.” I stood there, frozen. I didn’t have anyone close enough to do that. Who could possibly make such a huge sacrifice for me? Suddenly, my stomach growled loudly, and Chloe laughed. “The kitchen’s downstairs.” I headed down and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. Chloe floated behind me and motioned for me to look at the staircase. I glanced up and saw a boy standing there in pajamas. Chloe pointed at him. “Send Ricky Shane to the afterlife to be with me, and you can keep this body.” So, the boy who had grabbed me earlier was Ricky Shane. He stood still at the top of the stairs, his gaze icy and piercing. After a moment of silence, I broke eye contact and continued drinking my milk. Ricky turned and went back upstairs. I wiped my nose and tried to reason with Chloe. “Murder’s illegal. Even if I get your body, I’ll end up spending my life in prison. And prison uniforms are ugly—they don’t suit me.” Chloe’s lashes trembled. “He did this to me,” she whispered. “He violated me.” My grip on the milk carton tightened. She added softly, “Many times.”
From Chloe’s story, I pieced together the reasons for her suicide. Her father had died when she was young, and she lived with her mother, who remarried into the Shane family. Ricky Shane was her stepfather’s son. Ricky had always been a cruel, manipulative kid, and Chloe, being shy and obedient, was an easy target for him. As Ricky got older, his bullying became something far worse. About a year ago, he started assaulting her. No 17-year-old girl could bear that kind of violence. So, Chloe began self-harming to cope with the unbearable pain. “I would cut myself every time he assaulted me,” she said quietly, lowering her eyes. I recalled the scars crisscrossing her arms and felt a cold sweat break out across my back. “If he saw a new scar, he’d punish me even more.” I stood there, at a loss for how to comfort her. I looked up at her floating form. “Did you ever tell your mom?” Chloe paused and then let out a bitter laugh. “I told her many times.” I clenched the pillow in my hand, my palms slick with sweat. She didn’t need to say it. I already knew. Her mother must have known but chose to ignore it to preserve her marriage and keep her comfortable life. Not everyone is fit to be a mother. I realized then that what truly broke Chloe wasn’t Ricky’s abuse. It was the cold indifference of being ignored. That’s why she killed herself.
Chloe was a high school senior, and my high school days were far behind me. Luckily, she didn’t seem very popular at school. I spent the whole morning sitting in her seat, and no one came to say hello or even seemed to notice me. Now, all the students were in gym class, but I had faked being sick to stay in the classroom. Chloe’s social life wasn’t my biggest concern right now—her grades were. I stared at her math test, with a score of 35, and fell into deep thought. I glanced at Chloe, who was floating around the room. She must have thought I had a question because she drifted over to me. I gestured to the test with a nod of my head, and when she saw the score, she looked embarrassed. I shot her a cold glare. She fussed with her hair, her eyes darting around. This was a top-tier high school. With grades like this, she had to be at the very bottom. I couldn’t help but ask, “How did you even get into this school?” Chloe responded lazily, “Because Ricky Shane goes here. I had to attend this school—he won’t let me out of his sight.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is Ricky smart?” “He’s the top student in the school.” I was surprised. I hadn’t expected that. Chloe then asked, “The Reaper said you were smart. Were you a good student in high school?” I shrugged nonchalantly, “I was top of my class.” Being number one was no big deal to me, so I didn’t think much of Chloe’s wide-eyed, astonished expression. I propped my chin on my hand and began flipping through her test. Even if I took the test with my eyes closed, I wouldn’t have gotten such a low score. Chloe continued, “What college did you go to?” Without much thought, I answered, “Harvard.” Chloe blinked, clearly surprised. “Ricky wants to go to Harvard too.” I scoffed internally. Whether Ricky went to Harvard or any other top school was none of my concern. I had no intention of helping Chloe send him to the afterlife, nor did I know how long I would even be stuck in this body. For now, I was just taking things day by day. I was mentally solving one of the math problems when a dark shadow loomed over my desk, followed by a familiar low, raspy voice. “You’re not feeling well?” I looked up, startled to see Ricky Shane standing over me. The sight of him made my chest tighten, this body’s natural response to his presence.
Ricky Shane stood towering over me, his narrow eyes slightly lifting at the corners, his expression unreadable. I glanced toward where Chloe had been floating earlier, but she had disappeared. It was just me and Ricky now, alone in the classroom. I gripped the edge of my skirt and answered, “I’m not feeling well.” Ricky reached out to touch my forehead, but I instinctively swatted his hand away. “I’m fine,” I said coldly. “A minute ago, you said you weren’t feeling well,” he drawled, lazily leaning against the desk beside me. His fingers brushed a strand of my hair as he smirked. “You’ve gotten brave, slapping my hand away like that.” His words were soft, but they sent a shiver down my spine. He might’ve only been a kid, but he had the cold, calculating nature of a venomous snake. It felt like he could wrap his coils around my throat at any moment, cutting off my air supply. The fear was palpable. I stared straight at him, not saying a word. In my old life, I’d never been pushed around or treated with veiled threats like this. And right now, I couldn’t afford to let him suspect that I wasn’t really Chloe Watson. Ricky wasn’t the kind of person who could be easily fooled. His gaze drifted down to the math test on my desk, and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “After all the tutoring I’ve given you, how are you still doing this badly?” I blinked in surprise. Ricky Shane had been tutoring Chloe? I couldn’t help but wonder if his “tutoring” had involved more than just academics. I responded cautiously, “I’m not as smart as you.” He seemed to expect my answer, letting out a barely noticeable sigh. “With grades like these, how are you going to follow me to Harvard?” I frowned. He really thought of Chloe as his possession, didn’t he? He wasn’t just controlling her now—he planned on keeping her trapped even after high school. No wonder she couldn’t take it anymore. Ricky straightened up, his smile fading. “I’ll help you study tonight,” he said, his voice turning cold. “And don’t lock the door. Or else…” He trailed off with a casual laugh, not finishing his sentence. But the threat lingered in the air. I lowered my eyes, forcing a stiff smile.
As soon as Ricky left, I wasted no time pulling out Chloe Watson’s diary and began reading through it. Ricky Shane was far more dangerous than I had imagined. In my previous life, I’d never dealt with someone as insidious as him. Thinking of danger brought Ethan Clint to mind. Ethan had a handsome face, but his cold, emotionless demeanor had always made him seem distant. There was something chilling in his eyes, an unfeeling void. I wondered how he was doing back in Charleston. Had he given me a proper funeral? Without me, his adopted sister, all the inheritance from our late father would be his now. That massive house—was he living in it all alone now? Did he ever get lonely? I turned page after page in the diary, and almost all of it was about Ricky Shane. Chloe’s descriptions painted him as a dark, twisted genius—a brilliant but manipulative psycho, far beyond what she could ever handle. Ricky had isolated Chloe from everyone, making sure she had no friends. He wouldn’t allow anyone else in her life. He demanded that her entire existence revolve around him. Just as I was about to close the diary, a girl’s shadow appeared in my peripheral vision. She rested her hand on my shoulder, her gaze fixated on the notebook in my hands. Startled, I snapped the diary shut and turned to face her. She seemed a bit taken aback by my reaction, squinting her eyes at me. “What’s so secret in that diary that you’re guarding it so closely?” I glanced at the name badge pinned to her chest. Rachel Monroe. This girl didn’t seem like the friendly type. With Chloe gone, I had to handle this on my own. I put on an indifferent face, stuffing the diary into my bag. “It’s nothing important.” Rachel’s eyes drifted to the math test still lying on my desk. She pulled up a chair beside me and started talking. “At first, everyone thought you only got into this school because of donations. But then again, you’ve got a brother who’s top of the class. Why haven’t you asked him to help you with your grades? With scores like these, you’re not getting into any college. Are you planning to study abroad? Well, it doesn’t matter, because Ricky Shane seems to take care of you so well. I’m sure he’ll find a way to get you into Harvard. You’d be lost without him.” Apparently, everyone thought Ricky was being a doting brother, looking after poor Chloe. I gave a mental thumbs-up. Ricky Shane, well done. You’ve got everyone fooled, you manipulative little mastermind. In the back of my mind, I heard Ricky’s cold voice, reminding me about tonight’s “tutoring” session. The diary had made it clear just how those sessions usually went. But I wasn’t Chloe Watson.
Chloe didn’t reappear for the rest of the day, leaving me to sit through an entire afternoon of classes. Back in my own high school days, I had coasted my way into Harvard thanks to academic competitions. But now, if I wanted to survive, I’d have to take the SAT like everyone else. Thankfully, I hadn’t forgotten any of what I’d learned, and the classwork felt familiar. I breezed through the assignments. When the final bell rang, I started packing up my things when Rachel Monroe tapped me on the shoulder. “Ricky’s here to pick you up.” Chloe and Ricky weren’t in the same class, so I looked up toward the door. Sure enough, Ricky was leaning against the frame, his expression calm but unreadable. My stomach twisted with unease. I stayed seated, watching him closely. His dark eyes, glinting with amusement, were locked on mine. Rachel sighed dreamily. “You’re so lucky to have a brother like Ricky.” I didn’t bother looking at her as I replied softly, “You want him? You can have him.” “Huh?” Ricky patiently waited, his posture relaxed as he called out, “Chloe, aren’t you done packing up?” His voice was sweet and warm, dripping with fake kindness. I gritted my teeth. You snake. He walked over to me and gently patted my head, leaning down to whisper, “If you keep stalling, I’ll have to tutor you all night.” I stood abruptly. “I’m ready.” Ricky took my bag from me like it was the most natural thing in the world, playing the role of the perfect, caring brother. As we walked to the car, I tried to summon Chloe. There were so many things I needed to ask her. But she was nowhere to be found. Sitting in the car, I watched the passing scenery, my mind racing with strategies to handle tonight’s “tutoring” session.
��Dad’s home.” I turned toward Ricky, who was resting his elbow against the car window, watching me with a smirk. “We’ll have to wait until after Dad goes to bed for your tutoring session,” he said, leaning closer, his voice low with warning. “You know what happens if you lock the door.” He leaned back, looking satisfied with himself, his lips curling into a lazy smile. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Back when Ethan Clint was around, no one dared to treat me like this. We got out of the car and entered the house. As soon as I saw the man sitting in the dining room, my blood ran cold. Even from behind, I recognized him instantly. I would never forget that figure, no matter what. The man slowly turned to face me, his smile warm as he called out, “Chloe.” Chloe Watson’s stepfather—Ricky Shane’s father—was none other than Richard Shane. My entire body tensed up. Every cell in me screamed with the urge to flee. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. I bolted up the stairs to my room, telling myself to breathe, forcing myself to stay calm. I remembered now. Richard Shane did have a son he adored, a boy he bragged about constantly, a supposed prodigy. I’d tried to forget, but fate had other plans. At that moment, Chloe reappeared. My heart raced as I processed everything that had happened in the past few days. None of it made sense, and I was losing control. I didn’t know who was behind all of this, who was pulling the strings. But I knew one thing for sure: Richard Shane needed to pay for what he did. And Ricky? I’d send him to the afterlife to keep Chloe company. If his precious son died, Richard Shane would suffer. And there’s no greater pain than a parent burying their child.
Chloe looked hesitant, like she had something to say but was holding back. Her reluctance irritated me. Just as I was about to push her to talk, there was a knock at the door. Chloe disappeared instantly, leaving me to deal with whoever was on the other side—most likely Ricky. God, I was exhausted. The door was locked, but Ricky continued to knock persistently. My back pressed against the wall, and my stomach churned at the thought of sitting at the dinner table with Richard Shane. The knocking grew louder and more impatient. “Chloe, open the door.” I opened the door, and Ricky’s eyes scanned me. “What’s going on? Just because you don’t like my dad doesn’t mean you can be rude. If your mom were here, she wouldn’t let this slide.” My legs felt weak as I wobbled slightly, my voice coming out low and shaky. “I don’t feel well.” Ricky’s hand cupped my face, tilting my chin up. His dark eyes studied my pale, tired expression, his touch oddly gentle. “You don’t look so good. Can you handle dinner?” I shook my head. “I don’t want to eat.” “Then rest.” I moved to close the door, my hand on the knob when he suddenly called out, “Chloe.” The half-sigh I’d just released caught in my throat. He glanced over his shoulder at me, his gaze intense. “Be good, Chloe.” I nodded stiffly and shut the door.
I pushed open the bathroom door and turned on the faucet, letting the water fill the tub. I leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale and lifeless, and my eyes, exhausted to the core, refused to close. I submerged myself in the warm, misty water. My school uniform soaked through and clung tightly to my skin. As soon as I closed my eyes, I was back in that studio with Richard Shane when I was twelve. His voice echoed in my ears, smooth and persuasive, while his hand slowly slid up my leg. “Do you still want to continue lessons? My lessons are expensive, and I heard your father went bankrupt. If you want to keep taking my classes, you’ll need to be a good girl and listen to your teacher.” “You’ve got real talent in painting, Olivia. It would be such a waste to let your parents’ mistakes ruin your future.” The studio was cluttered, his hands, his breath—everything about him suffocated me. I bet Chloe Watson didn’t expect that I’d help her, not just because I needed this body, but because her stepfather, Richard Shane, had once been my teacher. He molested me when I was twelve. At the time, my family had just gone bankrupt, and I desperately wanted to continue taking his classes. But his lessons were expensive. He took me to his studio and said that if I agreed to play a game with him, he would let me attend his classes for free. That day in the studio became a lifelong nightmare. When my dad found out, he tried to kill Richard. He attacked him, but without enough evidence, Richard got away with it. My dad, on the other hand, was sentenced to five years in prison for assault, where he died of a heart attack. That year, I learned what it meant to lose everything. Relatives distanced themselves, and I ended up in an orphanage. For years, I lived in misery, while Richard Shane climbed the ladder of fame in the art world, almost being revered as a genius. Now I realize the truth of the saying: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Richard Shane raised a criminal just like himself. The bathroom filled with steam, and through the mist, I saw Ricky Shane walk in.
Ricky Shane stood there for a long time, his gaze slowly scanning every inch of me. I didn’t say a word, didn’t even blink. He crouched down beside the tub, brushing his hand through my wet hair, staring into my eyes. “Chloe, something’s off about you.” Of course something’s off—I’m not Chloe. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. Warm liquid trickled between my legs. I quickly looked down and saw blood mixing with the bathwater. “You’re early.” I turned my head away, saying nothing. He continued talking to himself. “Too much stress, maybe?” He bent down and lifted me out of the tub, water rippling behind us. His fingers went to the buttons of my school shirt. I looked up at him, and in my mind, his face began to merge with Richard Shane’s. Like a madwoman, I shoved him away and coldly said, “Don’t touch me.” He laughed darkly. “Don’t touch you?” I repeated, “Don’t touch me.” In an instant, his hand clamped around my neck, slamming me back against the wall. He sneered, his voice icy and low. “Since when did I give you the right to refuse me?” His cold fingers curled around my throat, pressing directly over my pulse. Honestly, I thought he was going to kill me. My breathing grew ragged as his grip tightened. Just when I thought he was serious about strangling me, his hand loosened. He let go and pulled me into his arms, his fingers tracing the scars on my arms. His voice dropped to a soothing tone, as if trying to coax me. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just behaved? If you behaved, I wouldn’t have to make you suffer.” He’s a lunatic—Ricky Shane is completely insane. Chloe’s life was truly miserable, to end up with someone like him. His eyes scanned my face, expressionless, as he murmured, “Too bad I won’t be able to tutor you tonight.”
I propped my chin up with one hand while the teacher wrote on the board. The sound of pens scratching against paper filled the room. I was doing my best to keep up the appearance of being a slacker, like Chloe, without even bothering to open a book. My eyes were fixed on the board, but my mind was elsewhere. Right now, I was living as Chloe Watson. Her life and status were miles below what I was used to. It made everything harder. I needed to come up with a solid plan. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Chloe’s mom. “We’re going to a gallery this afternoon. I’ve already gotten you out of class.” Richard Shane had gained quite a reputation in recent years, becoming one of the top artists in the country. His name carried weight in the industry. I had always gone out of my way to avoid hearing about him. In my mind, as long as I didn’t acknowledge his success, it was like he didn’t exist in my world. The gallery exhibition went smoothly. I had to admit, Richard’s work was an undeniable visual feast. I used the excuse of not feeling well to leave early. As I stepped outside, a sleek black car pulled up at the curb. A young man stepped out from the driver’s seat and hurried over to open the back door. The first thing I noticed was a pair of polished black shoes, toes resting firmly on the shadowy patterns of the fallen leaves. He wore a navy blue, tailored suit, his fingers tapping quickly on his phone. Then he paused, raising his head without warning, and our eyes met. Sharp, almond-shaped eyes, both refined and ruthless, with a thin scar running along his eyebrow. There was something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. It was Ethan Clint. Why was he in Charleston? Ethan didn’t say a word. He just stared at me. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were stormy. I had a gut feeling—he recognized me, the soul beneath this body. He knew I was Olivia. He suddenly stepped forward, bending down to wrap his arms around me. “Olivia,” he breathed, his voice deep and rough in my ear. “Welcome back.” His familiar scent flooded my senses. My mind exploded. He recognized me. Ethan Clint recognized me immediately. Leaning into his chest, I glanced up at the scar above his brow. That scar—Ethan got it trying to catch me when I jumped out of a tree. I don’t even remember why I climbed up that day, just that getting up was easy, but getting down was terrifying. Ethan had stood below with his arms outstretched, promising he’d catch me. It wasn’t long after I’d been adopted into the Clint family, and I didn’t fully trust him yet, but for some reason, I jumped anyway. He held me tight, not letting me get hurt at all. But he broke his arm in the process, and the cut above his brow came from hitting his head on a rock. I had no idea how to explain to him why I was in someone else’s body, or why I hadn’t come looking for him sooner. But it was like he knew. He patted my head gently and said, “You don’t have to explain.” “What are you doing in Charleston?” I asked. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and said casually, “Just handling some business.” He lifted my face, carefully inspecting every inch. His brow furrowed, and he tapped my forehead lightly. “This face… doesn’t look as good as yours.” Thank God Chloe hasn’t shown up—this could’ve been really awkward. The corners of his deep-set eyes softened slightly as he asked, “I can’t take you away just yet, can I?” I shook my head. I was still Chloe Watson, and I couldn’t just leave with Ethan Clint. He stroked my hair, just like he used to, and said, “Olivia, we need to talk.” Out of nowhere, I blurted, “Did you hold a funeral for me?” There was a brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Yeah, I did.” “Was it grand?” He was silent for a moment before replying, “It was.” Even if the funeral had been grand, the only attendees would’ve been people with business ties to the Clint family. I never had any real friends. He leaned against the car, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. The thick smoke swirled around his piercing gaze. He silently took a few drags, and without thinking, I reached for his cigarette pack—just like I used to. He caught my hand, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Has this body even hit legal age?” he asked. I smirked. “Just turned 18. I’ve got college entrance exams coming up.” He smiled with his mouth, but there wasn’t any humor in his eyes. He patted my hand and refused. “High school seniors aren’t allowed to smoke.” I shot back, “I smoked when I was a senior, and you didn’t stop me then.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t in the country back then. Too far away to stop you.” He lifted his wrist to check his watch, then glanced behind me. “There’s a kid across the street staring at us. Do you know him?” I turned around. Across the road, Ricky Shane was glaring at us, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched tightly, knuckles white. I snorted. “Oh, I know him, alright.” 15 Ignoring Ricky Shane’s rage, I turned back to continue talking to Ethan. He was my strength, my anchor. Somewhere along the line, I’d grown to rely on him completely. As long as he was around, nothing scared me. “That guy’s name is Ricky Shane. He’s this body’s brother,” I paused, then added, “stepbrother.” I could feel Ricky’s eyes boring into my back, but Ethan just glanced over my shoulder, sizing him up. “He’s got a thing for his sister.” I blinked, surprised. “How do you know that?” Ethan returned his gaze to me, his expression unreadable. “I’m not blind.” He suddenly frowned, grabbing my wrist and rolling up my sleeve, exposing the scars on my arm. “What’s this about?” “That’s the girl’s doing, not mine.” I was debating whether or not to tell Ethan the deal Chloe had proposed: if I killed Ricky, I could keep her body. I knew Ethan would have no problem burying Ricky six feet under without hesitation. But I couldn’t let him do that. He’d worked so hard to clean up the Clint family’s reputation, ridding it of all the shady stuff. His hands didn’t need more blood on them. While I was still talking to Ethan, I misjudged Ricky’s possessiveness and underestimated his anger. I didn’t expect Ricky to charge toward us. His face was twisted with fury, and before I could grab his arm to stop him, he shoved me aside and stormed toward Ethan, who had his back turned while talking on the phone. Without warning, Ricky yanked Ethan by the collar and punched him hard in the jaw. Ricky had put his full strength into that punch. Ethan, caught off guard, stumbled back, blood trickling from his mouth. In all the years I’d known Ethan, I had never seen anyone hit him. My voice shook with fury. “Ricky Shane, have you lost your damn mind?” Ethan wiped the blood from his mouth, his expression darkening like a storm on the horizon. He tilted his head slightly, stepped forward, and grabbed Ricky by the throat. “You little punk.” Ethan moved so fast that Ricky didn’t even have time to react. His face turned bright red as he struggled to breathe, unable to speak a word. Ethan had him completely overpowered, his grip unyielding. I’d always known Ethan had a rough side. From the day I met him, he’d been wild to the core. A street kid at heart. Ricky, raised in comfort and luxury, didn’t stand a chance. Ethan’s knuckles whitened, and for a second, it looked like he might actually strangle him. His brow furrowed, and with a swift motion, he let go. Ricky collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Ethan pressed his shoe against Ricky’s chin, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a stray dog. The showdown between a grown man and a teenage boy ended with the teenager thoroughly humiliated. 16 I stood there, wide-eyed, watching the whole scene unfold. I wasn’t new to seeing Ethan fight, but this time I wasn’t Olivia Dawner—I was Chloe Watson—and I didn’t know how I was supposed to react as her. Behind me, I heard a woman’s shrill cry, “Ricky!” Chloe’s mother, Diane, came rushing over in her high heels, kneeling beside Ricky. Following close behind her was Richard Shane, his face like thunder. Ethan smirked, his eyes flicking from Ricky to Richard, lifting his chin slightly as he said, “Seems like your son wasn’t raised with much discipline.” Richard’s eyes darted between Ethan and his son. For a moment, he looked shocked, but he quickly recovered his composure. “My apologies, Mr. Clint,” Richard said, his tone smooth but strained. He didn’t need to ask what had happened; the blood on Ethan’s lip made it obvious. Men like Ethan didn’t get into fights with high schoolers without good reason. Diane helped Ricky to his feet. He grimaced, his face taut with barely-contained anger. Richard turned to his son and said through clenched teeth, “Apologize to Mr. Clint.” Ricky stubbornly refused to say a word. I thought Ethan might step in to defuse the tension, but he didn’t. He was really waiting for Ricky to apologize. The atmosphere grew heavier, the standoff dragging on. I finally stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “I’ll apologize on my brother’s behalf. I’m sorry.” Ethan glanced at Ricky and then back at Richard, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. “Looks like your daughter’s got more manners than your son, Mr. Shane.” Richard and Diane both plastered on awkward smiles, but I could feel Ethan’s gaze lingering on me. Watching the way Richard acted around Ethan, I knew instantly—Ethan was the main financial backer behind the art gallery Richard was working on. Ricky kept his head down, his fists clenched, fury practically radiating off him. The tension was suffocating. Out of nowhere, Chloe appeared. She stood right beside Ricky, leaned in close to me, and whispered in my ear, “Olivia, you’re in trouble now.”
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