The next time I saw Lydia, my hatred boiled inside like a dormant volcano, simmering beneath a calm exterior.

This time, Dad was still keeping things from Mom. Under the guise of a vacation, he arranged for me to "run into" Lydia and her mother.

Dad was putting on quite a show.

He introduced her to me, saying, "Yari, this is one of Dad’s college friends. You can call her Ms. Xavier."

Ms. Xavier’s voice was sweet and flattering. She praised me, saying, "Yari, you’re so beautiful. Your dad told me you’re doing great in school, top ten in your grade."

"This is my daughter, Lydia. She’s a year older than you." The young girl clinging to her arm smiled brightly and greeted me, "Sis Yari, nice to meet you."

Lydia took after her mother’s looks.

She was elegant and delicate, like a pure wild lily. The two of them together looked like a pair of stunning sisters.

No wonder Dad adored her so much.

He said to me, "Yari, once school starts, Lydia will transfer to your school."

I went to the best private high school in the city.

It had excellent teachers, a high college acceptance rate, and of course, the tuition was sky-high.

Lydia’s transfer was no doubt arranged by Dad.

He continued rambling on, "From now on, you two will be classmates. Lydia’s just back in the country and doesn’t know anyone, so you should take care of her at school."

How ridiculous. Her weakness was all an act.

She pretended to be my friend on the surface, but behind my back, she was stealing my boyfriend. She was scheming—she didn’t need me to "take care" of her.

Especially after I found out that Ms. Xavier was the third party in my parents' divorce.

I was immediately furious. How could I still stay friendly with Lydia? I severed all ties with her right then and there.

Soon, rumors started spreading at school that Lydia was being bullied.

And, of course, I was the "bully."

The truth was, the so-called bullying was entirely fabricated.

It was all staged by Lydia herself.

Dad came to the school and didn’t even give me a chance to explain.

He said, "Yari, I’m really disappointed in you."

When Lydia shed a couple of tears, he was all sympathy.

He pressed me into apologizing to Lydia and made me write a letter of remorse, promising not to do it again.

Because of Dad’s favoritism, his actions, and his words, I was publicly labeled as the bully.

My reputation at school plummeted.

The classmates who believed Lydia’s version of events turned against me, isolated me, and even subjected me to real bullying.

This time, I think I’ll truly have to "take care" of Lydia.