At a class meeting the following week, our counselor burst in with an announcement, practically vibrating with excitement.

"As many of you know, Ms. Sinclair from the Legrand Group is a distinguished alumna who has generously donated several buildings to our campus. I'm thrilled to announce she's funding another dormitory—this one named after her daughter. I believe you all know who I'm talking about..."


Every head in the room swiveled toward Cecilia like synchronized robots.

Cecilia kept her head down, suddenly fascinated by something on her phone screen, pretending not to notice the attention.

Zoe nudged her excitedly. "Cece! Did you put in a word with your mom? Are we getting upgraded to the new dorm? Let's make sure Selena stays behind—that'll show her!"


Cecilia didn't even look up, just forced her lips into a tight smile.

I didn't need to see her face clearly to know how strained that smile was. If my mother actually showed up at any point, this little charade would collapse instantly.


The counselor continued, practically giddy, "The university is planning an evening gala to honor Ms. Sinclair. What do you all think?"

The class erupted in enthusiastic agreement, immediately launching into planning mode.

After the meeting, a crowd formed around Cecilia, everyone falling over themselves to express their gratitude.

The gala was set for the university's grand hall—the whole class would participate, with Cecilia's dance as the grand finale.

During the preparations, Simon tracked me down one afternoon.

I was halfway through my lunch when he dropped into the seat across from me. "Selena, we need to talk."

I barely looked up from my food. "Just transfer the money when you have it. I don't waste brain cells on garbage."

"Damn it, Selena, don't push me!" Simon hissed, his face reddening. But he didn't leave.

"Look, I'm here to convince you to switch dorms. Cece doesn't want to live with you anymore. She promised that if you move out, she'll give me another chance—and then I'll have the money to pay you back. So will you just switch?"

I set down my chopsticks and fixed him with a long, silent stare.

Under my gaze, his tone softened to something almost pleading. "I'm trying to help you here. Wouldn't you rather leave voluntarily than be kicked out? You know who her mother is—do you really think you can win against someone with that kind of power?"

"If she decides to make trouble, you might not even be able to stay in—" Before he could finish, I emptied my bowl of hot soup directly into his face.

I stood calmly, empty bowl in hand. "Oops. You were being so disgusting I couldn't control my reflexes."

With that, I strolled out of the cafeteria, the sound of Simon's outraged yelling fading behind me.

After the soup incident, word spread like wildfire. Soon the entire campus knew about the feud between Cecilia and me.

Even our counselor summoned me to her office to "discuss my living situation."

I crossed my arms and refused point-blank. "Why should I be the one to move? If someone has a problem, they can relocate themselves!"

The counselor slammed her palm on the desk, her face contorted with rage. "Her mother donated an entire building! What has your family contributed? Your mother probably raises pigs in some backwater farm—and clearly raised you with the same manners! Be sensible and move out voluntarily, or you might find yourself without a place at this university altogether!"

Well, well! When did university counselors start acting like mob enforcers?

I studied her smug expression and narrowed my eyes. This university's culture clearly needed a serious reality check.

"I paid my tuition and housing fees in full," I said coolly. "Where I live is my legal right. Under what authority are you threatening me?"

My response caught her off guard. Her expression faltered before hardening again. She jabbed a finger at me. "We'll settle this after the gala!"

I raised an eyebrow. Funny—I was thinking the exact same thing.

As the gala drew closer, Cecilia began a suspicious pattern of calling in sick.

I knew exactly what she was doing—laying groundwork for an eventual absence. After all, if my mother actually showed up, Cecilia's charade would collapse the moment she stepped on stage.

Two days before the event, however, the counselor announced with theatrical disappointment that Ms. Sinclair couldn't attend due to "urgent business commitments."

I couldn't help but snort. What urgent business? My mother was currently on a girls' trip to see her favorite band in concert.

She'd always prioritized front-row seats to see her favorite musicians over watching awkward college performances.

My laugh caught Cecilia's attention. She turned to me with narrowed eyes. "Happy that Ms. Sinclair isn't coming?"

Zoe jumped in, her voice dripping with contempt. "She's terrified of embarrassing herself in front of someone important. Of course she's relieved."

I shot Cecilia a knowing look, my smile deliberately enigmatic. "Who's really afraid of being exposed? I think we both know the answer. Some people tell so many lies they start believing their own bullshit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoe demanded.

"You'll find out soon enough," I said with a shrug. "Truth can't stay buried forever, and lies don't magically become reality." I turned and walked out, leaving them staring after me.

Despite the guest of honor's absence, the gala would proceed with university officials attending instead.

With the immediate threat of exposure gone, Cecilia miraculously recovered and joined rehearsals.

And naturally, she began finding creative ways to make my life difficult.