Limone straightened her back, her posture a perfect mirror of the sharpness she felt inside ever since she’d learned Sophie’s father had saved her life.

So, when Easton brought Sophie home to live with them, she didn’t protest. In fact, she treated Sophie like a younger sister. At least at first.

But over time, she noticed with growing unease how Sophie, quiet as a shadow, seemed to be stealing her brother away. Bit by bit, she chipped away at the bond Limone thought unshakable.

That’s when things soured between them.

Sutton’s voice cut through the room, sharp and chastising. “Limone, do you even hear yourself? What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Everything we’ve done is for your sake—not to hurt you, but to help you get along with Soph. Why is that so impossible? How long are you planning to stay like this, sulking and petty?”

“I’m not sulking.”

Limone’s response was flat, almost absent, as Sutton's reprimands scattered the pressure that had been building in her chest. The bitterness she’d been preparing to unleash dissolved into nothingness.

What was the point?

She’d screamed and pleaded her case before—once, she’d raged until her voice broke. And for what? Nothing had ever changed.

This time, she wouldn’t let them trap her in their drama, wouldn’t tie her emotions to her brothers like a kite to unwelcome winds.

Without another word, Limone calmly gathered her textbooks off the coffee table, stacking them neatly before sliding them into her backpack. As she looked at the zipper closing over the books, a quiet finality settled over her.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to my room,” she said softly.

Sutton sat slouched on the couch, massaging his temple as if trying to knead away a splitting headache.

“Limone,” he said, exhaling sharply, “if you agree to join the team now, we’ll forget about everything that happened before. A clean slate!”

Her laugh rose bitter and unchecked, cutting through the room like a blade. A clean slate. Everything she’d done in her past life—they’d only ever seen it as a joke, hadn’t they?

She didn’t so much as glance back as she ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and resolute. Behind her, Sutton lit a cigarette, frustration curling out of him with the smoke.

The butler approached cautiously. “Second Young Master, if the eldest Miss doesn’t want to cooperate, why not leave it? At least Miss Soph’s here to step in.”

Sutton’s brows knit tightly. “It’s not the same.”

The butler hesitated, his voice lowering as if he were treading dangerous territory. “Second Young Master, forgive my candor, but ever since you and the others stopped coming home, the eldest Miss hasn’t asked about you even once. She’s as cold as ice—it’s unsettling to watch.”

Sutton stubbed the cigarette out with more force than necessary, grabbed his keys, and left the villa without a word.

Upstairs, Limone heard the rumble of the car pulling away. She watched through the window as Sutton’s car disappeared down the driveway, likely heading to the training camp. A corner of her mouth quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Later, after a hot shower washed away the tension of the day, Limone settled at her desk, methodically working through her error sheets.

Focus. She needed to focus. If she gave it everything she had, maybe she’d carve a way out of this place.

Hours passed unnoticed as she poured over the pages, until she realized dawn had arrived without her permission. Hastily, she threw her books into her bag and raced downstairs. On her way through the dining room, she swiped a sandwich for breakfast and bolted out the door.

Sutton was the first to rise and emerge from his room, catching a glimpse of her retreating figure from the window.

“She’s up early,” he muttered, frowning.

“She’s been taking the bus to school these past few days,” the butler offered. “Ever since Monday, when Miss Soph’s chat with you delayed the driver and caused the eldest Miss to be late. She refused the car after that, stubborn as can be.”

Sutton’s expression darkened.

“That’s ridiculous. Over one near tardy?” Norton scoffed as he entered, rolling his eyes.

“Classic Limone,” Sixon added with a yawn. “She acts out to get your attention, Sutton. If you cave in, she’ll just take a mile next time.”

Sutton didn’t reply, but a shadow of unease flickered in his eyes. Deep down, though, he shook it off—maybe Limone did need to be taught a lesson. They’d given her a chance, hadn’t they? She was the one who refused to take it.

Sophie bounded down the stairs, her cheerful voice a jarring contrast. “Morning, Sutton, Norton, Sixon! Let’s have breakfast together, okay?”

Sutton’s sour mood lifted at her bright demeanor. At least this sister hasn’t gone off the rails, he thought, relaxing slightly.

*****

Limone arrived at school barely keeping her eyes open. The all-nighter weighed heavily on her, but she forced herself to stay alert during lessons. Missing even a single detail wasn’t an option.

During class, the teacher called on Sophie to answer a question. Sophie stumbled over her words, floundering as seconds stretched unbearably long. Finally, she stammered out an apology.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll review it and do better next time.”

Asycophantic classmate jumped in quickly, redirecting the attention. “Sir, Limone’s been studying really hard lately; she’s bound to know the answer!”

All eyes turned to Limone, the weight of amusement and skepticism heavy in the air. Ordinarily, her grades lagged behind Sophie’s—no one expected her to succeed.

Limone rose, her steady voice slicing through their doubts as she delivered the correct answer with calm precision.

The teacher’s eyes widened. “Correct! Well done, Limone. You’ve really been applying yourself. Everyone could stand to follow her example—don’t slack off!”

Quietly, Limone sat back down, her cheeks warming faintly at the praise. Across the room, Sophie’s face burned crimson, a stew of embarrassment and fury bubbling beneath her skin.

That should’ve been me, Sophie seethed internally. If I hadn’t been distracted by gaming, I would’ve nailed it. She clenched her fists. I’ll do better—I’ll make sure Limone doesn’t get another chance to steal my spotlight.

For now, though, Limone let herself savor the small victory.

*****

After school, Limone skipped her usual stop at the infirmary, opting to head straight back to the Lane family mansion. She pretended not to notice the butler’s suspicious surveillance, eating her dinner quickly before retreating upstairs. Bolting her door shut, a sense of security finally seeped in.

While organizing her notes, her phone buzzed faintly on the desk. She hesitated, thumb hovering over Charles’s contact. Should she text him? Would he even notice if she didn’t?

Probably not, she thought bitterly. She was always the one seeking him out, wasn’t she?

She set the phone down. Later. Maybe later.

Eventually, exhaustion rolled over her like a tide, pulling her into a deep sleep. When morning came, the alarm jarring her awake, she rubbed her eyes blearily and scrambled to get ready, rushing out the door once again.

By lunchtime, curiosity got the better of her. She wandered to the infirmary, asking hesitantly, “Where’s Dr. Charles?”

“He’s out for lunch,” answered a nurse.

Disheartened, Limone nodded and left. She would try again after school.

But that afternoon, the infirmary was empty save for the nurse from before.

“Still looking for him?” the nurse asked, a knowing smile on her face. “Let me give you some advice—focus on your studies. These things are too premature for you girls.”

Limone’s face burned with embarrassment. She mumbled something inaudible and fled.

Over the next several days, she visited the infirmary only to find it vacant each time. A strange sense of disappointment settled into her chest. He’d always been there, hadn’t he? Maybe she’d started to rely on that, on him.

That realization stung. No. She couldn’t lean on anyone—not in this life. This time, she’d stand on her own.

So she poured everything into her studies, preparing fiercely for the upcoming exams. Failure wasn’t an option.

When it was over, she left the testing room feeling confident she’d performed better than expected. Maybe this time she’d break the top hundred. Around her, other students groaned about the test’s difficulty, but she felt a rare flicker of pride.

Pulling out her phone, she hesitated before opening Charles’s chat. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, uncertainty flooding in.

What was the point? They weren’t even close.

With a frustrated sigh, she shut the phone off and packed her things to head home.

Back at the mansion, the living room was unusually lively. Her brothers lounged about, chatting with Sophie. They hadn’t gone to the training camp after all. But as soon as Limone appeared, a heavy silence fell over the room.

She felt it like a weight—the unspoken accusation, the silent reminder that she didn’t belong in this tableau of warmth. A trespasser. An intruder.

So be it, she thought, her smile brittle as she turned away.