The Doormat's Payback

It was a week after graduation, and I was killing time scrolling through the Northwood University accepted students’ forum when a title snagged my attention.

[My boyfriend got into Northwood, and his personal doormat is buying him a condo.]

I frowned, clicking the link. The poster was in our graduating class, same as me and Leo Sterling. I hoped this wasn't going to be about someone we knew.

The post continued:

[My BF grew up in his doormat’s house, and he’s so sick of her. Getting into Northwood was his ticket out.]

[But she’s insisting he’s ‘used to living in a big house’ and that the dorms are too cramped, so she’s buying him a place near campus.]

[Question for upperclassmen: is the new development by the East Gate or the one by the West Gate more convenient for freshmen?]

[Because this is going to be our little love nest, obviously. ;) ]

The sheer, shameless audacity of it all made me laugh. I tapped out a quick reply.

[Why not both? I hear freshman year is split pretty evenly between the two sides of campus.]

I was about to screenshot it and send it to Leo with a caption like, Get a load of this, when my phone buzzed with a message from him.

[Chloe, I was just thinking. I hear the freshman classes are on both sides of campus. Maybe we should just get one place at the East Gate and one at the West.]

I stared at my phone. The words blurred.

Wait a second.

Was I… was I the doormat?


1
Leo Sterling and I grew up in the same house. His parents died in a car crash when he was five, and my father, unable to bear the thought of his best friend’s son going into the system, brought him home to live with us.

For more than a decade, I believed we were the most important people in each other’s lives. My own parents had even hinted, more than once, that if we ended up together, the Sanford family fortune would one day be ours to share.

But the Leo I knew was cautious and reserved, so mindful of his position that he’d never even dare to reach for a serving dish at the far end of the dinner table.

Could that boy be the same person who was letting some girl call me his “doormat” on a public forum?

My hand trembled as I clicked back to the thread. The user ID was RainyDaysJess. The profile picture was a selfie of a girl with huge eyes and a pointy chin, the classic Instagram-influencer face. I racked my brain, trying to place her among Leo’s friends. Nothing.

The replies were already piling up.

[Who’s your boyfriend? Sounds like a big deal!]

RainyDaysJess replied:

[He’s only the top scorer on the SATs in the entire state! We’ve been together for a month now! <3]

A cold fist clenched around my heart. A month? That was right after graduation.

For the six months leading up to it, I had been away at a training camp at Northwood, selected as a candidate for the International Math Olympiad team. I had been completely buried in work, and I’d let my check-ins with Leo slide.

But would he really do this? It didn’t feel real.

I’m not sure, I told myself. Let’s see what else they say. It could be a crazy coincidence.

I kept scrolling.

[Wait, so your BF lives in the doormat’s house? Isn’t that like, his foster family? Why would you call her that?]

RainyDaysJess:

[OMG you guys have no idea. His foster sister is SO annoying. She’s obsessed with him and smothers him constantly.]

[But her family’s loaded, so my boyfriend says to just let her buy him whatever she wants. It’s not like it’s his money, right? Use it or lose it.]

My fingers flew across the keyboard, testing a theory.

[If she’s such a good little doormat, why hasn’t she bought him that Patek Philippe watch all the celebrities are wearing? If she hasn’t even done that, she’s not trying very hard.]

My phone buzzed again. A new message from Leo.

[Chloe? You there? Dad said the condos near Northwood are a great investment. And once you retake your SATs, if you can get into Northwood too, we could even live together.]

A second message appeared.

[Oh, by the way, my birthday’s coming up, and I saw this watch…]

My reply was terse. [What watch?]

He sent a picture of a Patek Philippe. The price tag read $28,000.

It was the exact one I’d mentioned in the forum.

I stared at the message, a bitter, metallic taste flooding my mouth. There was no more uncertainty. The “Dad” he was referring to was my father, Robert Sanford. For eighteen years, my father had treated Leo like his own son. He’d been so careful with Leo’s fragile pride, so conscious of his loss, that he often favored him over me in front of friends and family.

I had been admitted to Northwood months ago, a guaranteed spot secured by my gold medal win at the Olympiad. But to keep Leo from feeling pressured or stressed, I’d let my parents tell him I was just taking a six-month "gap semester" to travel. When I won the medal, I asked the school not to publicize it. We wanted to surprise him.

So, when I didn't show up for the SATs, Leo naturally assumed I'd slacked off for half a year and given up on college.

And now? Now he was planning to move in with another girl while casually asking me for a luxury watch and two condos?

Did he really see me as his personal ATM?

I took a deep, steadying breath and typed my reply.

[Okay.]

Then I screenshotted the entire conversation and sent it to my best friend, Maya.

Her reply was instantaneous: [HOLY SHIT! That bastard! Leo is really like this?]

I typed back, my hands still shaking. [I wish I knew.]

Maya: [Hang on. I’m going to find out who this ‘RainyDaysJess’ is.]

Ten minutes later, a dossier of information landed in my inbox.

[Jessica Raines. Goes to Westwood High, the school across town. Got into Northwood on an arts scholarship. Her parents own a small convenience store. Her Instagram is full of her flexing, but it’s all stolen pictures.]

I clicked the link Maya sent. Jessica’s Instagram was a curated fantasy of designer bags, five-star restaurant meals, and exotic vacations. I recognized a few of the photos immediately as generic images from luxury brand websites.

And then my stomach turned. She had the audacity to steal one of my photos—a shot I took from my family’s suite at The Empyrean Hotel last Christmas.

But the post that made me physically ill was from the day before. It was a picture of her and Leo, their reflections caught in a storefront window. He had his arm around her waist, their hands joined to form a heart. The caption read:

[Just a normal day with my genius boyfriend! He spoils me so much!~]

Yesterday. The day Leo told me he was out playing basketball with friends and didn't reply to my texts for hours.

The trust of eighteen years crumbled into dust.

Maya’s text came through again: [Chloe, what are you going to do?]

I was silent for a long time. Finally, I replied.

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