Chapter 2

[What are you doing?]

The system still didn't know much about the real human world. My little setup baffled it.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes. “Aging it. An essential skill for surviving school.”

Come on. The notebook was brand-new. It didn't look anything like something I'd been writing in for two years.

Obviously, it needed wear.

I crumpled pages, rubbed graphite along the edges, and smudged the cover. For the last three months of entries, I thoughtfully added a few drops of salt water to stand in for tears.

Then, without stopping to rest, I packed my bags.

After working all night, I studied the dark circles under my eyes and used the card I'd redeemed earlier.

Only then was I satisfied enough to take my suitcase downstairs.

Now I didn't merely look exhausted. I looked delicately, painfully fragile—the sort of girl trying to hold herself together when she was clearly about to break.

Mom's expression grew even more sympathetic. She walked me all the way to the front door.

“Keep in touch once you get there.”

She stroked the back of my hand, every inch the loving mother worried about her daughter.

If I hadn't had an affection display, I might have believed it.

I looked at her dismally low score and sneered to myself.

Outwardly, though, I gazed at her with grateful, reddened eyes.

“I will. You and Dad take care of yourselves, too.”

Then I got into the car, looking forlorn, and left for the airport.

I deliberately left the privacy partition down. Sitting in the back seat, I cried softly.

Dad's usual driver was taking me today. I needed to keep the performance going so he'd report it back.

Traffic was light, and the trip took much less time than usual.

When I climbed out with my suitcase, Caleb Mercer was standing a short distance away.

He froze for a second at the sight of my drawn face. He started toward me on instinct, then seemed to remember something and stopped, his expression turning cold.

I ignored the hesitation, forced a strained smile, and walked over.

“I knew you'd come to see me off. You believe me, don't you?”

His cold look turned to disgust.

“Believe you? Annie's a good person. Why would she make something like that up? She told us herself that you pushed her down the stairs.”

“I thought you'd asked me here because you wanted to admit what you did.”

I'd expected that. Putting on a wounded expression, I reached for the edge of his jacket.

He stepped back before I could touch him.

“I didn't. I really didn't...”

“And you're still lying. Elena Hart, I must've been blind to ever call someone like you my friend. Sending you abroad is the best decision your father's made.”

With that, he turned and left the airport without another moment's hesitation.

I stayed where I was, stunned, letting tears run down my face.

Only when my boarding announcement sounded did I drag my meager luggage toward the gate for my flight to France.

As soon as I was on board, I told the system to restore the deleted security footage from the school hallway.

“Wait until we're halfway there, then email it to every one of them. In high definition.”

Leaving without defending myself, then being proved innocent after I was gone—that would stay with them.

An entire night of work had wiped me out. I fell asleep almost as soon as I sat down.

When I woke again, the plane was landing.

I followed the person Dad had sent to meet me and got into the waiting car.

Inside, I checked my phone. More than thirty missed calls.

Apart from my family, Caleb had called the most. Eight times, to be exact. He must have remembered I was still in the air, because he'd switched to texting.

Caleb: [We know what really happened. I'm sorry we accused you.]

[But Annie explained. She was so scared that she got confused and remembered you pushing her.]

[Let's just put this behind us. Both of you can meet halfway.]

The sheer shamelessness made me sick.

I was still cranky from being woken up. Rather than say something that would destroy my carefully maintained image, I tossed the phone aside and shut my eyes.

Then the system's daily affection update sounded.

Unless something had gone very wrong, everyone's numbers should have improved.

But even after that indisputable proof of my innocence, Adrian's progress was still stuck at 20 percent.

Adrian Cole. My fiancé. The bastard I'd spent ten years caring for, only for someone else to lure him away in three months.

I looked at his bar trailing far behind the others and ground my teeth.

“System, did Adrian even watch the footage?”

[Don't worry. I'll check.]

With that, it disappeared into the background.