His Bet, Her Ruin, Their Reckoning

His Bet, Her Ruin, Their Reckoning

Ellene Millstein

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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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Her Escape, His Eternal Loss

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The familiar ache pulsed behind my eyes, a constant companion in the sterile white room where sheets matched my pale, bruised skin. They had given me electric shock therapy again, leaving my mind a fog of agony. A key turned, and in walked Ethan Miller, the man I was supposed to marry, his face handsome but cold, etched with pity and disgust. "Still acting like this, Chloe?" he snapped, accusing me of hurting a nurse-a lie I was too broken to fight. Then Liam Thorne, my half-brother, joined him, an insincere mask of concern plastered on his face. "See, Ethan? She' s completely gone," Liam purred, blaming my supposed violent tendencies on the stress of his "illness." Ethan, my savior turned accomplice, instantly sided with Liam, his trust absolute. But then Mark Evans, a childhood friend turned doctor, assessed my condition, his voice serious as he unveiled the severe trauma and abuse they' d inflicted on me. Liam quickly deflected, accusing me of self-harm, a narrative Ethan chillingly affirmed. Liam then proposed transferring me to a private institution, the 'Thorne Wellness Center' -a name that sent a jolt of terror through me, a prison designed just for me. Desperate, I pleaded with Ethan, "Please, don' t take me there. I' ll do anything." He hesitated, a flicker of the old Ethan visible, and agreed to take me home. But Liam intervened, whispering manipulations, leading me back into the trap. I screamed as orderlies grabbed me, but it was too late. They injected the sedative, and I went limp, my savior watching as he condemned me. The torture at Thorne Wellness Center was worse than I could have imagined, leaving my mind fractured, my body starved. When Ethan finally came to pick me up, he was horrified by the skeletal, lifeless woman I had become. In that moment, a plan formed in my fragmented mind. I had to escape, even if it meant jumping from a second-story window. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped from my gilded cage, running, barefoot and silent, into the night.

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