Chapter 3

The St. Oak High tennis center was packed. The squeak of sneakers against the court was almost loud enough to shake the roof.

Today was varsity tryout day.

As the most talked-about club in school, tennis had drawn students from every corner of campus to the bleachers.

Blair wore her signature white uniform, looking like a proud white swan as she gracefully warmed up near the baseline.

Liam sat in the front row with a bottle of water, staring at her with undisguised admiration.

"Where's that fat Talia today?"

Sarah, the team's second seed and Blair's closest follower, bounced a ball on her racket as she laughed.

"Think she'll actually show up?" Blair sneered,"She's probably afraid she'll have a heart attack after two laps in front of the whole school."

She gave a contemptuous laugh. "And Julian's an idiot, too. What kind of moron thinks he can teach a two-hundred-pound pig to play tennis?"

"Exactly." Sarah laughed,"If she shows up, I'll serve at her until all that fat starts shaking."

The girls around them burst into sharp laughter.

"Is that so?"

A cold, commanding voice suddenly came from the entrance.

Every head turned.

I walked into the bright tennis center one slow step at a time, wearing the oversized gray hoodie that hung from me like a sack.

My hood was up. My head was lowered.

Julian followed behind me, casually carrying my racket bag over one shoulder.

"Oh my God. She actually came?"

"I'm going to go blind. Who let her in?"

Mocking laughter and jeers immediately rose from the bleachers.

Blair stopped warming up and walked toward the net. She looked me over with a vicious smile.

"Talia. You really have no shame." She sneered, "What, wearing that ugly sack to hide that disgusting body of yours?"

I walked to the center of the court without responding to the noise around me.

Then I reached for the zipper of my hoodie.

Zzzip.

The sound of the zipper sliding all the way down seemed unnaturally loud in the suddenly quiet gym.

I pulled off the heavy hoodie and tossed it onto the floor. Then I raised my head and looked directly into Blair's eyes.

Clang.

Someone dropped a metal water bottle.

The entire tennis center fell deathly silent. Every laugh and every jeer seemed to be strangled in its owner's throat.

In the bleachers, Liam's eyes widened.

His jaw practically dropped. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Across from me, Blair's mocking expression froze. Her pupils contracted as if she'd just seen something impossible.

I stood there in the fitted black tennis outfit. The bulk was gone.

My body had become lean, powerful, and explosive. Strong thighs. Defined abs.

Powerful arms shaped by months of endless swings.

I wasn't the two-hundred-pound girl anymore.

I was the girl who had crawled out of hell for revenge.

"Is… is that Talia?!"

"Oh my God. What did she do? She looks like a professional athlete!"

"She looks incredible…"

The bleachers finally erupted with shocked exclamations, along with a few whistles from the boys.

I looked at Blair's face, twisted by jealousy and disbelief, and gave a cold laugh.

"What? Don't recognize me? Weren't you just saying you'd serve at me?"

Blair bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself to stay composed.

"Don't get cocky! Tennis is about skill, not losing a little weight!"

She pointed at Sarah. "Sarah, teach her a lesson!"

Sarah swallowed and walked onto the opposite side of the court, forcing confidence into her stride.

"One-set match." The coach blew his whistle.

Sarah served.

She took a deep breath, tossed the ball, and swung.

The speed wasn't bad. But after millions of repetitions, my trained dynamic vision made it look almost like slow motion.

I planted my feet on the baseline without even shifting, tracked the ball as it landed and kicked up off the court, and tightened my grip on the racket in one smooth motion.

Three months of a thousand swings a day and countless hours of pain had burned into my body until, in that moment, it all moved on pure instinct.

I rotated my waist. My arm snapped forward like a whip.

Crack! The deafening impact echoed through the tennis center.

Sarah didn't even see the ball's trajectory.

The yellow-green ball tore past her cheek like a streak of lightning, loaded with terrifying spin and power.

It slammed into the baseline behind her, leaving a dark skid mark.

"Return winner."

Julian casually called the point from the sideline and gave a low whistle.

Sarah froze, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the court.

She looked back at the mark on the baseline, her racket hand shaking uncontrollably.

One ball. Just one. And the team's second seed had completely lost her nerve.

I turned and pointed my racket toward Blair, who stood at the edge of the court with a pale face.

"Too weak."

My gaze challenged her openly. "Blair. Stop hiding behind other people."

I tilted my racket toward the court. "Get out here."

Blair took half a step backward under the pressure of my stare.

But as St. Oak's queen bee, she couldn't back down in front of the entire school.

She gritted her teeth, grabbed her expensive custom racket, and stepped onto the court. "I'll show you that you'll always be trash."

"Really?"

I stepped behind the service line, rolled a ball in my palm, tossed it high, arched back, and snapped forward like a bow released at full draw.

"CRACK—BOOM!"

This wasn't a tennis shot. It was thunder.

The ball became a yellow blur. It slammed into the service box, bounced violently upward, and shot straight toward Blair's face.

Her eyes blew wide, she barely managed to throw her racket up on instinct—

The gym rang with a sharp crack as the strings on that expensive frame split apart.

The ball punched straight through the racket, flew past her ear, and sliced through a strand of her blonde hair.

Blair's legs simply quit as she crumpled to the court, ghost-white with shock.

I lowered my racket and gave her a cold smile.

"Welcome to my court, princess." I tilted my head. "Now, are you ready to cry?"