Elsa’s POV

Something was off about Tasha lately. The girl I used to know—the quiet, timid, always-trying-to-please-everyone Tasha—was gone. She walked through the halls now with her chin up, like she owned the place. And today, when I asked her if she had helped me write my attendance while I stepped out, she just looked at me, smiled, and said she “forgot.”

Forgot.

Tasha never forgot anything.

I knew that look in her eyes too well—it was the look of someone who had finally grown some audacity, and I could almost taste where she got it from. Jeremy.

Jeremy Walker. The boy I had liked since sophomore year. The one who barely noticed me until the day I helped him fix his sprained wrist after practice. Tasha knew all of that. She knew how I felt about him. And yet now she was prancing around with that smile, acting like she’d won some prize.

Was she doing this on purpose? Trying to get back at me because I took Roman?

I won’t lie—I did steal Roman. I saw the way he used to look at her, like she was some precious thing. But Tasha was weak, always crying, always needing to be rescued. Roman needed someone who could stand beside him, not behind him. Someone like me. I only did what was right for both of them.

But now… seeing Tasha laughing with Jeremy, watching him look at her like she was his sun—it twisted something dark inside me. If Tasha could take what I loved, then so could I. I wasn’t going to sit back and watch her be happy while I wasn’t.

Everything Tasha wants, I’ll take it. I’ll snatch it out of her hands before she even realizes it’s gone.

And I was going to start with Jeremy.

After the match, when the whole field erupted in chaos, I stayed behind the crowd, watching. Watching Jeremy’s fists slam into Roman’s face, watching Tasha scream his name, watching him look at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

That’s when it clicked. Roman wasn’t just angry. He was obsessed. And Jeremy… Jeremy had just shown how far he’d go for her. That kind of passion, that kind of power—I wanted it. I wanted him.

As everyone left the field, I noticed Jeremy storming toward his car, wiping blood from his knuckles. He didn’t even wait for anyone to speak to him. He just got into the black sedan, and I knew where he was headed.

His home.

The Walker mansion.

I touched the small vial in my pocket—the same one I’d been keeping for Roman. I was going to use it one day, when he finally chose me, to make him more obedient, more mine. But fate had different plans. Fate handed me a new target.

I waited for twenty minutes after Jeremy left the school, sitting near the gates pretending to scroll through my phone. The school would close soon anyway.

Then I hailed a taxi and gave the driver directions to the Walker mansion.

The air outside the gates was still, the afternoon sliding into gold. The Walker mansion stood tall and arrogant, the kind of place that screamed money and power. The kind of place I could get used to.

The gatekeeper stepped out, frowning when he saw me. “You again, Miss Elsa? Young Master Jeremy didn’t say anything about expecting visitors.”

Of course he didn’t. If it was Tasha, they’d have rolled out a red carpet. She was treated like family here—everyone adored her. Me? I was just the “adopted sister,” the charity case, the outsider.

I smiled politely, pretending not to notice the disdain in his tone. “Mr. James sent me,” I lied smoothly, pulling out the folded paper I’d forged earlier. “It’s from Tasha’s father. He said it’s urgent.”

The guard looked suspicious but not enough to argue. He squinted at the paper, then stepped aside.

I walked in, my heart pounding but my face calm.

The house smelled like lavender and old money. I heard footsteps—a maid carrying a tray with a glass of water. She turned down the hall that led to Jeremy’s room. Perfect.

I moved quickly, pretending to check my phone, then “accidentally” bumped into her. The glass wobbled dangerously.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, steadying the tray.

“It’s fine, ma’am,” she said, startled.

As I leaned closer to steady the glass, my hand slipped into my pocket. I poured the colorless powder into the water with a flick of my fingers. It dissolved instantly, invisible.

“Here, let me help—there, all good,” I said with a fake smile.

The maid blinked, thanked me, and went on her way.

I straightened, my pulse racing. It was done. The drug was mild but effective—designed to disorient, make him drowsy, weaken his focus. Just enough for me to… handle him.

I followed slowly, far enough not to be caught. I saw the maid enter Jeremy’s room, heard a faint voice—his—and then a brief silence.

When she came back out, the glass was empty.

A slow, satisfied smile crept across my face.

I walked into the sitting room and sank into the soft velvet couch, crossing my legs as I watched the clock tick.

The show was about to begin.

All I had to do now was wait—for the perfect moment to enter that room, when Jeremy’s head would start spinning and his guard would drop.

It’s been ten minutes and the house had gone quiet.

Even the ticking clock sounded nervous.

I sat there, tapping my nails against the armrest, feeling my heartbeat echo in my throat. Any minute now, the sedative would start working.

I stood, smoothing down my skirt and adjusting my hair, trying to calm the tremor in my hands. I didn’t even know why I was shaking—maybe excitement, maybe guilt—but I told myself it didn’t matter. Tasha had everything. This was my turn.

I took slow steps down the hallway, stopping in front of Jeremy’s door. I heard faint movement inside, something like a drawer closing, and a muffled cough. Then silence again.

I pushed the door gently. It opened with a soft creak.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed, hair messy, one hand gripping the sheets. His skin had a faint sheen of sweat, his eyes half-lidded, unfocused. The sedative was doing its work.

“Elsa?” he muttered, blinking. His voice was low, slurred a little. “What are you doing here?”

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. “I came to check on you,” I said softly. “You left the school so suddenly, everyone was worried.”

He rubbed his temples, frowning. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to see you,” I whispered.

He stood slowly, swaying slightly. “You need to leave.” His voice was firmer now, but his body betrayed him—his shoulders heavy, his balance off.

I moved closer before he could steady himself. “Jeremy,” I said, “I might not be Tasha, but I can still care for you.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “Elsa, stop. Whatever this is and GET OUT!”

The way he said it only made something snap inside me.

I reached for his arm. He pulled back.

“I said Get ou…”

But I didn’t let him finish. I leaned in, closing the space between us, and kissed him. Hard.

He stiffened, his hands pushing at my shoulders, but I clung tighter, my fingers curling into his shirt. I could feel the fight in him waver—the sedative clouding his mind, his restraint faltering.

He tried again to push me off, muttering something against my mouth, but then his breath hitched, and something in him broke.

He gripped my waist suddenly, spinning me around, and the next thing I knew, my back hit the wall. The shock sent a tremor through me, making me gasp.

His lips pressed against mine again, not gentle this time—urgent, disoriented. I felt his fingers fumble with the buttons of my blouse, his breath ragged against my skin.

My mind screamed that this was exactly what I wanted, that this was victory, but my chest burned with something I couldn’t name.

He buried his face against my neck, his breath hot and uneven, his lips brushing skin.

I clung tighter, forcing myself not to think, not to feel. I let out a shaky breath, pretending it was everything I wanted.

Then…

The door burst open.

We both jerked apart, turning in shock.

Jeremy’s eyes widened as he froze mid-motion, his fingers still trembling against the half-buttoned fabric.

And there, standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her face drained of color—

Was Tasha.