His Bet, Her Ruin, Their Reckoning

His Bet, Her Ruin, Their Reckoning

Gavin

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The icy water stole my breath, a final, burning cold consuming me as I sank into the dark lake. The last thing I saw was my Harvard acceptance letter, a cruel joke on the grass. Yesterday, that letter was everything, the key to saving my brother, Liam. But that was before Noah Vance, the school bully, destroyed my life. It began with his chilling "mind-reading" trick. He cornered me before the exams, his smirk unwavering as he revealed things only I knew, like Liam' s urgent need for a bone marrow transplant and our family' s crushing medical debt. He proposed a bet: if he got into an Ivy League, I' d be his personal assistant for three months. If not, he' d pay for Liam' s surgery. Desperate, I agreed. I aced my exams, and the call from Harvard brought a wave of relief. Then I saw the public scoreboard: my perfect score, and right below it, Noah Vance, with the exact same perfect score. It was impossible. He and his friends dragged me into the shadows. "Looks like I won," he sneered, his face inches from mine. There was no money for Liam; only the bet. They held me down. They broke me. Not just my spirit, but my body. The next days were a blur of pain and shame. I couldn' t tell anyone. Then the hospital called: Liam had a complication, an infection. Without funds, they couldn' t operate. He died two days later, and with him, a piece of me. I walked to the lake, the Harvard letter in hand, feeling nothing but a profound emptiness. How did Noah Vance, a slacker, get a perfect score? The water closed over my head. Then, I opened my eyes. I was in my bed, the sunlight streaming in. My best friend' s text buzzed on my phone: "You ready for the last day of hell before exams?" I was back. Back to the day before the bet, before everything. A cold smile spread across my face. This time, Noah Vance would not succeed.

Introduction

The icy water stole my breath, a final, burning cold consuming me as I sank into the dark lake.

The last thing I saw was my Harvard acceptance letter, a cruel joke on the grass.

Yesterday, that letter was everything, the key to saving my brother, Liam.

But that was before Noah Vance, the school bully, destroyed my life.

It began with his chilling "mind-reading" trick.

He cornered me before the exams, his smirk unwavering as he revealed things only I knew, like Liam' s urgent need for a bone marrow transplant and our family' s crushing medical debt.

He proposed a bet: if he got into an Ivy League, I' d be his personal assistant for three months.

If not, he' d pay for Liam' s surgery.

Desperate, I agreed.

I aced my exams, and the call from Harvard brought a wave of relief.

Then I saw the public scoreboard: my perfect score, and right below it, Noah Vance, with the exact same perfect score.

It was impossible.

He and his friends dragged me into the shadows.

"Looks like I won," he sneered, his face inches from mine.

There was no money for Liam; only the bet.

They held me down.

They broke me.

Not just my spirit, but my body.

The next days were a blur of pain and shame.

I couldn' t tell anyone.

Then the hospital called: Liam had a complication, an infection.

Without funds, they couldn' t operate.

He died two days later, and with him, a piece of me.

I walked to the lake, the Harvard letter in hand, feeling nothing but a profound emptiness.

How did Noah Vance, a slacker, get a perfect score?

The water closed over my head.

Then, I opened my eyes.

I was in my bed, the sunlight streaming in.

My best friend' s text buzzed on my phone: "You ready for the last day of hell before exams?"

I was back.

Back to the day before the bet, before everything.

A cold smile spread across my face.

This time, Noah Vance would not succeed.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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