Chapter 8
“Eric, you want to play the hero and save the damsel? Fine–then you pay the bill. Otherwise, stop pretending.”
“If it weren’t for Hannah stirring things up, we wouldn’t have gone after Vivian. Now you want to wash your hands with it? Not happening.”
Eric was forced to the ground and pummeled with punches and kicks. His cries of protest were drowned out by the rage of the classmates around him.
Hannah tried to sneak away in the chaos, her body hunched low, inching toward the exit. But someone spotted her.
“Hannah! Where do you think you’re going?!”
A hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her back. Another shoved her, sending her sprawling onto the floor beside Eric.
“You’re trying to run? After everything you did? You ruined us! You made promises you couldn’t keep. What gives you the right to escape while we suffer the consequences?” The room exploded in shouting. Hannah shrieked, curled up on the floor as the crowd surrounded her.
Cries, slaps, curses–everything blurred together.
The auction organizers, worried about the escalating scene, urgently called security. Uniformed guards rushed in and began pulling people apart.
“Enough! Everyone out, now!”
Reluctantly, the students were dragged away from the chaos, some still yelling, others visibly shaken. I followed behind at a distance, watching with calm detachment.
Then, Eric’s eyes locked on me. He stumbled toward me, his clothes rumpled and his expression desperate.
“Vivian!” he gasped. “Please–you have to help us. Pay for the items! They were for you anyway! I swear, I won’t fight you over them. I’ll let you have them all.”
I raised my eyebrows and offered a thin smile.
“But I don’t want them anymore.”
His mouth opened, then closed. He looked stunned, as if unable to comprehend my
indifference.
Several other classmates circled me, their expressions shifting from arrogant to pitiful. “Vivian, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to treat you like that. It was Hannah–she manipulated us all. Please, help us pay the penalty. We can’t get arrested. A criminal record will ruin our futures.”
I laughed coldly.
“You really think our relationship is worth ten million in damages? After everything you did? The bullying, the insults, the drinks thrown in my face… Now you want my sympathy?”
“Vivian, think about the three years we spent together. We were happy once, weren’t we? Please, just this once. I’ll change. We’ll get married after college. I’ll treat you better–I promise.”
I tore my hand away and gave him a look of utter contempt.
“Eric, don’t disgust me. I don’t recycle trash. You made your bed–now lie in it. You’re adults, all of you. Actions have consequences.”
About thirty minutes later, the police arrived. The auction organizer explained the situation, presenting contracts, video evidence, and payment logs.
The students panicked. Phones were pulled out. Parents were called. Some collapsed into tears.
But I watched silently, unmoved. They had made their choices. Now they’d face the results. Suddenly, a figure dashed across the parking lot.
“Stop her!” someone shouted.
It was Hannah, trying once again to escape.
But fate intervened.
A delivery truck came barreling down the driveway at that exact moment. Hannah ran straight into its path.
Brakes screeched. There was a sickening thud. Hannah hit the pavement hard.
But she was still alive–barely.
Then, in a horrifying instant, the truck reversed and rolled over her again. And again.
Screams erupted. Some students covered their eyes. Others turned away in horror. I stood frozen, heart pounding, as the scene replayed in my mind.
That was me, in another life. Crushed beneath tires. Betrayed by everyone, I thought I trusted.
I reached up and touched my arm, almost instinctively.
Not this time. Not this life.
Eric collapsed, sobbing in terror.
J
Eventually, the students‘ parents arrived. Most had to sell homes, land, jewelry–anything to raise the money to settle with the auction house and avoid criminal charges.
But no amount of money could erase the shame, the damage to their reputations, or the emotional scars they carried.
As for Eric–he never came back to school. Word spread that he’d been committed to a mental institution, driven mad by the trauma and guilt.
Half a month later, I received a call from the police. They had tracked down the scammer through the remittance trail and apprehended him. Almost 50 million dollars was recovered.
Chapter 8
3/3 100 0%
When I’d made that call and transferred the money, it hadn’t been out of panic.
It was part of the plan.
I’d cooperated with the authorities from the start. The “mistake” was intentional–a trap to draw out the scammer and end his spree.
I opened a drawer and stared at the black card, now frozen.
Then I closed it again. I never wanted to use that card again. Some things carry too many memories.
Six months later, I transferred to a new school in another city.
The air was different there–lighter. The classmates were friendly. The teachers were kind.
For the first time in years, I felt hope.
I walked through campus under the warm sun and smiled at myself.
This time, I’d stay in the light.
And I’d live well.
On my terms.
Happily.
