Chapter 1

Grace's POV

I sat on the couch, holding the thick envelope in my hands, the Harvard University emblem gleaming in the sunlight.

My hands were trembling.

Not from nervousness, but from sheer excitement. A perfect 1600 on the SAT. I'd done it. I really had done it.

The moment I tore open the envelope, that sentence "Congratulations! You have been accepted..." nearly made me cry out. I covered my mouth, afraid of disturbing anyone upstairs. This was my moment, even if just for a few brief seconds.

In this house, I hadn't had a moment to call my own for far too long.

"Grace? What are you doing?"

Gabrielle, my stepsister's voice came from the staircase, carrying her usual impatience. I quickly stuffed the acceptance letter into my shirt, but I wasn't fast enough. She was already standing in front of me, looking down at me.

"More of your junk mail?" She rolled her eyes. "Or is it another crappy college trying to scam you out of money?"

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady: "I got accepted to Harvard."

As the words left my mouth, the living room became terrifyingly quiet. Gabrielle froze for a second, then burst into sharp laughter.

"Stop daydreaming, Grace. You couldn't even get into community college, let alone Harvard." She laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. "My God, when did your delusions get this bad?"

I wanted to explain, to pull out the acceptance letter as proof, but Gabrielle had already turned to go back upstairs. As she walked away, she said, "Sis, be realistic. Not everyone can be as brilliant as me."

I sat there, watching her silhouette disappear around the staircase corner. The acceptance letter in my hand suddenly felt heavy, as if mocking my naivety. In this house, nothing I said would ever be believed.

Even if it was true.

At six o'clock, Dad and Mom came home right on schedule. I had planned to bring up Harvard during dinner, but before I could open my mouth, Gabrielle's excited screams filled the living room.

"Mom! Dad! Come look at this!"

I followed them into the living room to see Gabrielle holding up her phone, the screen displaying a TikTok video. Her voice trembled with excitement: "My video hit two million views!"

Mrs. Williams took the phone, her eyes instantly widening: "Oh my God, Gabrielle! What is this?"

I leaned in for a closer look, and my heart nearly stopped.

On the screen was my SAT score report, the perfect 1600 clearly visible. But the caption read: "Finally got that perfect score! Harvard, here I come! #AcademicExcellence #PerfectScoreGirl"

"That's MY score report!" I practically shouted.

But no one was listening. Mom was already in tears of joy, hugging Gabrielle tightly: "My precious daughter, Harvard! We're so proud of you!"

Dad started rummaging through the liquor cabinet for champagne: "We have to celebrate! My daughter is a genius!"

"Dad, that's my—"

"Grace," Dad cut me off, "Gabrielle has always been the academic star. You should learn from your sister. She's been exceptional since she was little, while you..."

He didn't finish, but his meaning was clear. I was nothing.

I stood there, watching them pop champagne to celebrate my achievement, beaming with pride for Gabrielle. I wanted to rush over and grab that phone, to loudly tell them the truth, but something was stuck in my throat, preventing me from uttering a single word.

"That's my score report..." My voice was barely audible.

Gabrielle glanced at me, a flash of triumph in her eyes: "Sis is talking nonsense again. It's normal she's jealous of me." Then she paused, her voice suddenly turning sharp: "She hasn't been right since she escaped from hell."

The living room fell silent again. All eyes turned to me, not with concern, but with annoyance and disgust. I felt like I was that abandoned little girl from ten years ago all over again.

I turned and fled to my room.

In the dead of night, I lay in bed, the dim glow of my phone the only light in the room. I hadn't wanted to look at the video again, but as if under a spell, I found myself opening Gabrielle's TikTok profile.

Two million views, 500,000 likes, 100,000 comments.

My achievement, her glory.

I started scrolling through the comments, most of them praise and envy. "So impressive!" "Total genius!" "Wish I could get a perfect score!"

Each comment cut into me like a knife.

Then I saw it—the comment that made my blood run cold.

"Good to see you again, GG."

The phone nearly slipped from my hand. I stared at those words, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest.

GG.

For two years, no one had called me by that nickname except him.

Memories came flooding back like a tidal wave. The dark basement, the sound of chains, and that gentle voice whispering "GG" in my ear.

Damien.

The blind son of a mob boss, the only person who had shown me kindness in that hellish place. When everyone else treated me like property, like a tool, only he would talk to me in the dead of night, telling me what the outside world was like.

His eyes couldn't see, but he could hear the fear and desperation in my voice. He would gently stroke my hair and say, "It'll be okay, GG. Someday you'll get out of here."

But I had betrayed him.

The night I escaped, I chose my own freedom over his safety. I remember that loud bang, remember his painful groan as he fell. I didn't look back; I just ran, ran for my life.

I thought he was dead.

I thought that secret would stay buried in the soil of Florida forever.

But now, this comment told me he was alive. And he had found me.

With trembling hands, I deleted my browsing history and turned off my phone. But in the darkness, I could still see those words flashing before my eyes.

This wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be.

Damien knew I was here, knew about my current life, even knew Gabrielle had stolen my achievement. He was watching me from somewhere I couldn't see, silently observing everything.

I remembered what he once said: "Debts must be paid, GG."

At the time, I thought he was joking.

Now I knew he was serious.

The sound of the night wind came through the window, but to me, it sounded like a call from hell. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to block out the memories, but they kept coming.

Damien's voice, his gentleness, his pain, and the enormous guilt I left behind when I ran.

I thought I had forgotten. I thought I could start over, could be a normal girl.

But debts never disappear with time.

And the creditor had finally come to collect.