The Sweet Taste of Stolen Billions

My twin sister and I were two halves of a whole, though we looked nothing alike, and we were only able to afford school thanks to a scholarship from a local tech mogul.
But every time the university deposited the poverty assistance money into my sisters account, the funds would immediately vanish.
To keep me from worrying, she took on a shady joba "black market gig," as she called itwhich led to her death.
The university organized a memorial service for her.
I stood in the corner of the room, listening as Sloan Foster, the unofficial queen of the freshman class, whispered and laughed with her circle.
Seriously, who knew taking a sip of your Smartwater could clean out someones account? Youre going to be a financial dominatrix by graduation, Sloan!
Sloan scoffed, cutting her friend short.
My familys worth tens of millions, darling. I dont care about the loose change.
Its just a new app. Its not like using it on those people matters. Watching them scramble, totally frantic over a few hundred bucks? God, its hilarious.
Thats when it hit me. The vanishing money, my sister's desperationit was all a game to them, orchestrated through some kind of system transfer.
A year later, I earned my acceptance to the same university Sloan attended.
I lived my life the way my sister hadworking hard, taking on part-time jobsand I made sure to cross Sloans path again and again.
Sure enough, she noticed me. Her eyes held that distinct glint of a hunter spotting their prey.
Not long after, the universitys top benefactor came to campus to present the scholarships. I was on the recipient list.
Sloan walked over, a bottle of premium mineral water in hand, her smile dripping with false concern.
Rowan, you look exhausted. Why dont you take a break and drink this?
I took the bottle with a grateful smile. The second she turned away, I poured the contents into the glass of imported tea set out for the mogul.
She liked playing the deposit transfer game, did she?
Fine. This time, Id play a round with much higher stakes.
1
The university had gone all out for the Donor Gala, a lavish event designed to secure major endowments.
Dozens of alumni were invitedall captains of industry, financial titans, and political power brokers.
Malcolm Price, the local tech mogul and one of the wealthiest men in the state, was the guest of honor, tasked with personally presenting the 0-00,000 Scholars Award.
As a member of the Student Committee, I was busy setting up the main ballroom with the other volunteers. The atmosphere was one of frenetic, high-stakes energy.
Rowan, you look exhausted. Take a break and grab this.
Sloan's voice was laden with concern as she smiled and offered me the mineral water.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, giving her a shy, appreciative smile that was eerily similar to my sisters.
Thank you, Sloan.
She was about to say more, but a staff coordinator called her name from across the room.
Sloan answered, then turned back to me, her tone soft but carrying an unmistakable command.
Your lips look chapped. Make sure you drink the whole thing, okay?
I nodded enthusiastically.
Watching her turn and walk toward the coordinator, the smile slowly slid from my face.
I lowered my head, my fingertips tracing the chilled surface of the bottle.
Sloan. Her methods were exactly as I remembered.
Approach your prey with the biggest display of kindness you can fake.
Then, use that intimacy as a chance to shatter their every hope.
Watch them suffer, collapse, and finally be destroyed by despair.
Just like she did to my sister, Lyra.
Wed lost our parents young, and Lyra and I survived on the tech moguls scholarship.
Lyra was kind and open-hearted. Shed met Sloan at the university and instantly considered the popular, wealthy girl her best friend.
But from the moment she met Sloan, the monthly scholarship payments would mysteriously disappear from her account.
She contacted the bank, filed a police reportnothing helped. The account was consistently zeroed out, as if the deposit had never arrived in the first place.
Lyra never told me. She was afraid Id worry.
Instead, she listened to Sloan, who convinced her to take on that "fast money" gigthe one that got her killed.
I didn't learn the truth until the day of Lyras memorial.
The whole nightmare began with a single, doctored bottle of water.
A single sip, and the money in your account was silently, seamlessly transferred.
From that day on, I had one goal: This university.
I studied until my eyes bled and finally earned a spot here, where Sloan reigned.
Sloan.
My sister gave you her full trust and unconditional kindness.
And you paid her back with playful theft and total annihilation.
People who betray true kindness have to pay their penance.
I lifted my head, my gaze settling on Malcolm Price, who was currently greeting the university administration at the front of the ballroom. My fingers tightened slightly on the bottle.
You love the deposit transfer game?
Fine.
This time, Ill let you play a much, much bigger one.
2
The memory flashed away, and the bottle of water in my palm was already warm from my body heat.
I scanned the room, quickly locking onto my target.
Spencer King. Student Committee Vice President. Heir to the formidable King Hospitality Group.
He also happened to be the nephew of the regional bank president.
The absolute picture of money and influence on campus.
I adjusted my expressiona perfect mix of shyness and appropriate deferenceand walked over.
Vice President King, youre working so hard. Would you like a bottle of water?
Spencer had just finished hauling a crate of decorative props. He stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow, and turned to me with a grateful smile.
Thanks, Rowan. Thats really kind of you.
But just as he reached out to take the bottle, a sharp, piercing voice cut through the background noise.
No!
Spencers hand froze mid-air, his brow furrowing in confusion.
I turned my head, feigning surprise.
Sloan? Why are you shouting?
Sloan met Spencers questioning stare and her composure faltered for a brief second before she quickly regained control.
Her friend, Jessie, jumped in, immediately turning the focus onto me.
Rowan Hall, dont think we dont see right through you! What is this, a ploy?
A scholarship kid like you trying to cozy up to Spencer King? Please. Did you think handing him a Smartwater was your ticket out of the cafeteria line? Know your place!
She turned to Spencer, her voice laced with exaggerated caution.
Be careful, Vice President King. Who knows what kind of garbage people like her, desperate to climb the ladder, would put in a bottle of water?
Spencer looked at me, a flicker of suspicion clouding his eyes.
The commotion had drawn the attention of the surrounding committee members.
The people who were usually friendly or indifferent now gathered around, their faces alight with the malicious joy of watching a public spectacle.
Im just saying, one girl sneered, giving me a dismissive once-over. A charity case like her trying to catch Spencers eye? Seriously?
Another guy chimed in. Yeah, people need to know their worth. Poor kids belong in the library, not trying to social climb.
Look at her playing the innocent victim. I bet she scavenged that bottle from the recycling bin.
A final comment sparked a round of laughter.
I tightly gripped the water bottle, my knuckles white, shaking my head in manufactured panic.
No, its not! This water Sloan gave it to me just now
Jessie paused, then put her hands on her hips, her expression growing sharper.
If Sloan gave it to you, why are you trying to give it to Spencer? Trying to play a dirty little Cupid, are we?
The crowd roared with jeers.
How shameless! Using Sloans kindness to impress Spencer!
Shes clearly jealous of Sloan. The class queen is beautiful and rich, and Rowan? All she can do is fake cry.
If Sloan gave it to her, why isnt she drinking it herself? Does she have something to hide?
Sloan stared me down.
Rowan, you havent got some kind of issue with me, have you?
I waved my hands frantically.
No, no! Sloan, youre always so generous and kind to me. Why would I have an issue?
Jessie and Sloan exchanged a look. Jessie scoffed.
If you dont have an issue, prove it. Drink the water. Now. Right here in front of everyone.
I bit down hard on my lip, fighting to suppress the triumphant smile that was threatening to break through.
Sloan had done half my work for me. Their desperate attempt to prevent me from transferring the water to Spencer only confirmed my suspicion:
The transfer system was still active, and its effect could be passed on through my handing the water to someone else.
I forced a trembling sob, my eyes red-rimmed, managing a sorrowful, twisted smile.
If you dont believe me then Ill drink it.
I unscrewed the cap, raised the bottle, and chugged two mouthfuls.
Water trailed from the corner of my mouth. I stubbornly wiped it away, my expression anxious and vulnerable as I looked up at them.
Is that enough?
Jessie nodded, satisfied.
Thats better. Keep drinking, girl.
I gave her a grateful, almost subservient smile and finished the entire bottle.
Sloan and Jessie exchanged another glance, a signal that their sport was finished.
The rest of the crowd, seeing the drama end, dispersed back to their posts.
I let my pathetic facade melt away, and when no one was looking, I slipped into the back utility closet and retrieved the other bottle of water I had hidden earlier.
Sloan only gave me one bottle. I certainly wasn't going to use that one to test her.
I uncapped it, drank a sip myself, and then poured the remainder into the water cooler that supplied the hot water for the VIP tea station.
3
By mid-afternoon, the main ballroom was almost finished.
Sloan walked up to me, holding her phone, her voice unnervingly cheerful and warm.
Rowan, perfect timing for a quick vlog! Youre one of the new award recipients!
Tell everyonewhat are you going to do with the ten thousand dollars?
Shed asked Lyra that same question last year.
My sister had faced the camera, nervous but her voice ringing with such gentle determination.
Im going to save every penny for my little sister.
When she graduates, Ill finally throw her the birthday party she deserves.
That clip was posted online, tagged with the trending hashtag #AngelSister, and garnered millions of praises.
But when Lyras account was emptied, Sloan bought a new trending topic, publishing a forged screenshot with a vicious, cutting headline:
"Angel of Charity" Blew 0-00K Scholarship on Male Escorts in Late-Night Club BingeScamming the Whole Internet!
The online sentiment immediately turned toxic.
My sister couldnt track down the money, and she was powerless against the tidal wave of online abuse.
Thats when Sloan, ever the good friend, had appeared, suggesting she go to a club where she could make fast cash.
It ended with Lyra being assaulted, degraded, and found dead in a dark alley on a rainy night.
My hands, clasped behind my back, clenched into tight fists, but I raised my chin and smiled into Sloans phone camera.
Ten thousand dollars. Ive never seen that much money in my life. Its enough to last me a long time.
But I want to take half of it and donate it to a foundation for disadvantaged children.
Do good, and good will find you.
Sloans eyes brightened, clearly pleased with the answer. She tried to pry further.
With this money, you wont have to worry about living expenses this semester, right?
I lowered my gaze, letting a suitable shadow of sadness cross my face, forcing out a pained laugh.
My family theyre gone. Its just me now.
Thank goodness for the scholarship. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to stay in school.
In that instant, I saw the undisguised, hungry excitement in Sloans eyes.
A girl alone. Her last lifeline of money. There was no more perfect toy than this.
She must have been anticipating the moment when the money vanished, the moment I, utterly alone, would collapse in total despair.
She seemed satisfied and walked away toward another group of students.
I watched her back, my smile gone, replaced by an arctic chill.
She didn't hear it.
Do good, and good will find you.
It was my sisters favorite phrase.
I used to tease her for being so naive.
But she would always say, Oh, just you wait. The universe will be so blinded by my good karma that it has to look out for you, too.
But the universe didn't look out for us. It only took the one light I had left.
I stared coldly at Sloan, who was now laughing and joking with someone.
I picked up the electric kettle and walked back to the water cooler.
The university president had spared no expense for this gala, even procuring rare, imported black tea for the guests of honor.
Sloan, you love to manipulate people and bask in the thrill of stripping away their hope.
I want to see what happens when Malcolm Price, the citys most powerful mogul, becomes the victim of your cruel little game.
Will you still find the deposit transfer game so "hilarious?"
4
I poured the recently boiled water into the delicate ceramic teacups.
The tea leaves, hit by the scalding water, twisted and rolled like a condemned man in agony.
I watched the silent tragedy unfold, then meticulously placed the finished cups on the VIP table.
The faces I usually saw on the Wall Street Journal or Forbes were starting to take their seats.
When Malcolm Price arrived, the crowd instantly surged toward him with handshakes and effusive flattery.
At two oclock, the gala officially began.
The first segment involved the host introducing Malcolm Price and the scholarship recipientsincluding meto the stage.
When I gave my acceptance speech, my voice was filled with the perfect degree of excitement and gratitude.
Malcolm Price was visibly pleased with my heartfelt, worshipful testimony.
After he delivered some obligatory, high-minded remarks, the staged segment finally ended.
Backstage, I stayed busy, all the while keeping a close watch on the main hall.
On the stage, students were performing a carefully choreographed dance routine.
Following the performance, Price announced a new, expanded scholarship initiative.
In the audience, the guests of honor, encouraged by the university president, started to sip their tea.
A little distance away, Sloan checked her phone, a small, cruel smirk playing on her lips.
She sauntered over to me, her expression a mix of condescension and outright mockery.
It was a devastatingly cruel combination of pity and superiority.
Rowan, I assume your scholarship hit your account by now?
I nodded slowly, feigning realization, and pulled out my phone. My eyes widened as I checked the balance, and I froze in place.
Sloans smile stretched wider.
Whats wrong?
My hands were shaking, my face ghost-white. I looked up at her, my expression blank, overwhelmed by an imagined, crushing defeat.
Sl-Sloan my money my three years of savings its all gone
The money from my jobs, the scholarshipit just vanished. That was that was my survival money How how could this happen
I gasped for air, clutching my chest, and sank to the ground in manufactured despair.
Sloan crouched down, her voice a poisonous whisper, filled with the exact, twisted pleasure I knew she sought.
How could that happen?
Maybe you had some hidden debt or a late payment, and the money was immediately routed away? You know, last year, I met a girl just like you. Crying about working hard to support her little sister, only to blow the whole scholarship on male escorts at a late-night club.
I snapped my eyes open, the sheer rage in them almost impossible to contain.
I scrambled up, looking utterly distracted and distraught.
No! Im calling the police! I have to get my money back!
Sloan curled her lip, looking at me as if I were a pathetic insect.
At that exact moment, the host on stage was mid-sentence, his voice booming.
Suddenly, Malcolm Price bolted to his feet, shouting into his phone.
Say that again?!
The host stopped instantly, stunned into silence.
A profound, deathly silence fell over the hall.
The shaky voice on the other end of Prices phone echoed loudly in the acoustically sensitive room.
Call the police! You have to call the police! Someone has definitely hacked and stolen from my bank accounts!

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