Poisoned Milk For My Enemies

On the morning of the state finalsthe exams that would determine our college admissions and our futuresmy brother handed me a bottle of milk.

I took it, my chest tightening with a rare, sweet rush of gratitude, until a glowing string of text suddenly began scrolling across my vision, like a phantom live-chat projected directly into my mind.

[Don't drink it, babygirl! If she drinks that, the charity case gets x-ray vision to copy her answers!]

[And shell slowly lose her mind. In seven days, her brain will turn to mush and her body will shut down.]

My hand trembled. The bottle suddenly felt heavy, slick with condensation.

Right beside us, my childhood best friend smiled softly and held out a braided luck-charm bracelet.

The glowing text flared violently in my field of vision again:

[The childhood bestie is trash too! If she wears that, the charity case gets an automatic twenty-point bump over her.]

[The charity case will breeze into an Ivy League, while our girl gets locked in a psych ward with no memory, abused until she dies!]

I blinked, the neon letters burning behind my eyelids. I looked up. Both of them were staring at me.

It wasn't the look of a loving older brother, nor the tender gaze of the boy I had secretly loved since we were ten. It was the calculated, breathless stare of hunters watching their prey step into a snare.

...

I didnt say a word. I just took the milk and the bracelet, turned on my heel, and walked straight over to Raquel, the reigning queen of the schools mean girls, who currently sat dead last in our class rankings.

Fine, I thought, the ice spreading through my veins. If this is the game we are playing, then its my own fault if I don't play it to the bitter end.

"What are you standing around for? Drink the milk and review your flashcards. Every second counts."

Tristan had followed me. He twisted the cap off the bottle and shoved it toward me. The look in his eyes wasn't protective; it was suffocatingly annoyed.

For years, I had excused Tristans sharp edges, convincing myself that beneath his biting words was a fiercely loyal older brother who just didn't know how to show he cared. Only now, staring at the poison in his hand, did I realize the truth. Every bottle of milk he had ever given me before an exam was a trap, meticulously laid for the sake of the girl he had placed on an untouchable pedestal.

"I don't have an appetite," I said, my voice shockingly level. "Keep it for yourself. I'm going inside."

I turned away, but a hand violently seized a fistful of my hair from behind. My knees buckled, and I hit the pavement hard.

"You dare talk back to me? Have you lost your damn mind?" Tristan roared, his face twisting into something ugly. "Don't think I'm going to coddle you just because it's finals week! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Throwing a tantrum and giving me attitude? I'll teach you a lesson right here in front of everyone!"

Heated whispers broke out around us as parents and test-takers turned to watch. Tristan, emboldened by the audience, snatched my backpack, raising it as if to smash it across my face.

A hand caught his arm. It was Miles, rushing over, playing the peacemaker.

"Tristan, man, come on! It's exam day. If you scare Blair half to death, how is she going to test?"

Miles knelt beside me, his face a perfect mask of concern. He gently brushed the dirt from my cheek, his touch as soft and familiar as it had always been.

"Don't take it to heart, Blair. He's just stressed. He wants you to have enough energy for the exam," Miles murmured. "Look, I went out of my way to get this luck bracelet blessed just for you. Put it on. I promise itll bring you the highest score."

He reached for my wrist to tie it on, but I snatched it from his fingers, burying it in my palm.

These two men. One was my adopted brother, the person I had viewed as my closest family. The other was the boy who owned my heart. They had used my familys American Express Black Cards to parade around the city's elite circles as untouchable trust-fund gods. Yet, they had both fallen obsessively in love with the impoverished scholarship student I had personally sponsored, to the point where they were willing to join hands to destroy me.

"Thank you both for your beautiful wishes. I will absolutely do my best."

I stared dead into their eyes, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

"And when these exams are over, I promise I will repay you both. Thoroughly."

Tristan glared at me, his jaw tight, looking as though my very existence was an endurance test for him. Miless eyes glinted with the dark, hidden thrill of a successful setup.

Feeling a scorching gaze from the periphery, I quickened my pace and passed through the school gates.

Sure enough, I hadn't made it far down the walkway before heavy footsteps rushed up behind me. A hand spun me around, and a stinging slap cracked across my cheek.

"Didn't I warn you to stay the hell away from Miles? Why are you always throwing yourself at him? Are you that desperate?"

Raquel. The school's ultimate bully. Just like always, she resorted to physical violence and sheer humiliation the second she felt threatened.

I looked at her face, contorted with jealousy, and calmly extended the milk and the bracelet.

"Don't be mad," I said, my voice dripping with earnest submission. "Look, everything Miles gives me, I save for you. I listened to what you told me."

I widened my eyes, playing the pathetic victim to perfection. "I promise, I'll help you get him. Once finals are over, I'll set up a date for you guys."

The hostility on Raquel's face faltered, smoothing into a cruel, satisfied smirk. She snatched the items from my hands.

"At least you know your place. Remember, a boring little nerd like you doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. Stay out of his sight."

She shoved her shoulder hard into mine as she walked past. My cheek burned with a fiery ache.

If being a minor was the umbrella that protected monsters like her from the consequences of their actions... then I would gladly use their own dark, twisted methods to carve out my revenge.

...

When the morning Literature and Composition exam ended, the hallways were choked with exhausted students.

"Oh my god, what do we do? That essay prompt was insane. The reading comprehension made no sense," someone whined.

"I know, right? The multiple choice felt like every single answer was correct. I'm dreading Math this afternoon."

Amidst the chorus of despair, a soft, musical laugh rose from the center of the crowd.

"It wasn't that bad, guys," the girl said, her voice a soothing balm of false modesty. "I thought it was actually pretty straightforward."

I looked up and met her eyes.

Harper had been the school's most famous charity case until I stepped in. Meeting me had completely altered the trajectory of her life.

My gaze dropped to the Cartier Love bracelet gleaming on her wrist. It was the birthday present I had received last month, worth over twenty thousand dollars. It had mysteriously vanished from my vanity a few weeks ago.

Sensing my stare, Harper smoothly slipped her hand back into the cuff of her sweater.

"Harper is practically a genius," a girl next to her sighed enviously. "Of course a test like that was easy for you."

I almost laughed out loud. Straightforward? Was it straightforward because Raquel had spent the entire exam tossing her an eraser with the multiple-choice answers written on it?

Perhaps stung by the quiet disdain in my eyes, Harpers fingers curled into fists. She stared me down, raising her voice so it echoed down the hall.

"I'm securing the Valedictorian spot this year. I'm going to make everyone who ever looked down on me open their eyes and realize they have to kneel just to look at me!"

After the morning session, I stopped by a local boutique and bought a cheap braided bracelet that perfectly mirrored the one Miles had given me.

To save time, I ducked into a cramped, greasy diner across the street from campus.

I was eating a cheap bowl of soup, my eyes glued to a calculus prep book, when a shadow fell over my table.

"Wow, Blair. You really are just trash. It's the biggest week of our lives and you're eating at a dump like this."

I looked up. Harper and her entourage were standing over me.

The girl who had spoken was sneering, her eyes raking over the peeling linoleum and sticky tables. "The bacteria in here is probably enough to kill a person. Then again, if you die, your family would probably be thrilled to sue this place for a payout."

Because my family had once dealt with a horrific extortion attempt after an uncle flaunted his wealth, I had been strictly forbidden from showing off our money. Aside from Harper, everyone at school genuinely believed I was poor.

At this age, where vanity and cruelty were worn like badges of honor, they spoke to me with zero restraint.

I let out a low, cold laugh and looked directly at the ringleader. "Harper. How do you feel about what your friend just said?"

Her eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before a sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face. "We're all classmates, Blair. Don't be so sensitive."

She patted the table. "Anyway, keep studying. Look over your mistakes. We're going to head next door for lunch."

Next door was a Michelin-starred bistro where lunch ran about five hundred dollars a head. Harper really had no shame.

I didn't have the energy to argue with ghosts. I put my head back down, maximizing every second to review my formulas.

When the afternoon Math exam finished, the hallways erupted into the exact wailing I expected.

One boy literally punched a locker, his knuckles turning red. "What the actual hell! Did the state board write that test just to drive us to suicide?!"

Harper was once again flanked by a crying, panicked crowd, all lamenting their mental breakdowns during the multiple-choice section.

"Oh, guys, it's okay. It's just math," Harper said, the triumphant gleam in her eyes impossible to hide. "Tell you what. I'll treat you all to an amazing dinner tonight. To make up for the trauma."

"Harper, you're the best! Ugh, hopefully a good meal will help me bounce back tomorrow!"

"You are so generous! Honestly, if I couldn't do it, I'm sure my competitors couldn't either!"

As Harper led her entourage down the hall like a conquering queen, I hung back. I watched Raquel step out of the girls' restroom. She was coughing around a vape pen, awkwardly adjusting the braided bracelet on her wrist. Her eyes were glazed with a bizarre, feverish joy.

I almost had to hand it to Raquel. Even when she had no idea what she was doing, she had managed to fill out her entire scantron, giving Harper the illusion of a perfect cheat sheet.

Someone walking by asked, "Hey Raquel, you filled out every bubble today. Think you pulled off a miracle?"

Raquel didn't even look up, her speech slightly slurred. "Whatever. I just bubbled random crap. Realized at the end I messed up the numbering on the free response anyway. Let's see how much partial credit they give me."

Standing in the shadows, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

That night, the classroom was mostly empty. I finally had a moment of quiet to study.

I was just finishing my review of my mistake log, preparing to tackle a few high-level practice problems, when the doors banged open and the crowd surged back in.

"Harper is so rich! She ordered literally every signature dish on the menu. I am so stuffed!"

"I never thought I'd get to eat a three-hundred-dollar slice of cake. I'm going to brag about this forever!"

They knew Harper hated me. Seeing me sitting quietly, studying, was an invitation. One of them stormed over and snatched the prep book right out from under my pen.

"Look at Blair, working so hard. Too bad no matter how much you kill yourself studying, our Harper will always score higher than you."

"Harper is a natural genius. Not like this dumb pig who just memorizes textbooks. Harper could sleep through the year and still get into Harvard."

They started tossing my prep book back and forth like a football. One of them deliberately dropped it and stepped on it, leaving a dirty footprint across the cover.

"Harper. Call off your dogs."

I set my pen down on the desk with a sharp clack. My voice dropped an octave, cutting through the noise.

"If you keep this up, I'm going home right now. I won't show up for the exams tomorrow, and none of you will have anyone left to push around."

The room erupted into laughter. They slammed their hands on the desks. "Then don't show up! Who cares?"

"Please, drop out! One less person means my class rank goes up. Go home, loser!"

But Harpers smile vanished. Her face went rigid.

If I didn't test, who was she going to copy from?

She immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Enough! Stop messing around. It's a good thing Blair works so hard. You have to let the students who don't have natural talent try their best."

She glared at her followers. "I'm actually getting mad. Whoever bothers Blair while shes studying is uninvited from the post-exam victory party."

It worked like magic. Someone even wiped the footprint off my book and slammed it back onto my desk with an eye roll.

Harper then pulled out a brand-new, expensive set of final mock exams. She slid them onto my desk, an unspoken command.

I smiled coldly, accepting the gift.

Thanks to her warning, the rest of exam week went perfectly smoothly. No one dared to breathe in my direction.

When the final bell rang on the last day, I capped my pen. A tidal wave of cheers and screams erupted from the halls, shaking the very walls of the school.

The sky outside was burning with a brilliant, fiery sunset. The school gates were mobbed with local news reporters and parents clutching massive bouquets.

I walked out slowly. Through the crowd, I spotted Tristan. He was handing a massive arrangement of imported roses to Harper.

"Congratulations on surviving, Harper," he said, his voice carrying. "Hidden in the flowers is that necklace from the auction you loved. I had it flown in from overseas just for you."

He smiled, a perfect picture of devotion. "I hope this is the start of an incredible summer."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Phones were whipped out to record the fairy-tale moment. Even the local reporters swarmed in, cameras flashing.

Through the sea of people, both of them made eye contact with me. They didn't flinch. They didn't try to hide.

Of course they didn't. As far as they were concerned, my usefulness had been entirely drained. All they had to do now was wait seven days for my brain to rot and my body to die.

I turned away, only to catch sight of Miles standing near the edge of the crowd. He looked sullen, a dark cloud hanging over him. He was like a completely different person. He looked right through me, pretending I didn't exist.

"Move. You're in my way," he snarled, shoving past me to push his way toward Harper's side.

Standing there beneath the heavy shade of the oak trees, I felt like the entire world had abandoned me.

And yet, I felt like I held the entire world in the palm of my hand.

Even if I was entirely isolated, as long as my mind belonged to me, I could walk through fire alone and feel like an army.

Before, I had been too focused on my future to deal with them. But now? Now it was my turn to systematically dismantle them.

The moment I got in the car, I made the calls. I canceled their supplementary Black Cards. I called the estate manager and had the security codes to the mansion changed, revoking all guest access.

"From today on, Tristan is no longer my brother. He is an adopted ward who has continuously crossed the line, and his time under our roof is over," I ordered coldly over the phone.

"Seize every asset currently in his name. Freeze his accounts. If anyone on staff so much as opens a door for him, they're fired."

That evening, I ate a quiet meal prepared by our private French chef. I drew a bath with rose petals, soaking until the tension melted from my muscles, and then sank into my sprawling bed.

When I finally checked my phone, my feed was choked with Harpers posts.

A drone light show. A private yacht party. Photos of absurdly expensive, rare gifts casually tossed on velvet cushions.

Her caption read: [Graduation & Adulthood gifts. A magical night.]

It really was quite the production.

The class group chat was losing its collective mind:

[Omg Harper, you kept saying you weren't a billionaire heiress! This is literally out of a movie.]

[I told you guys Harper was different. She's old money, she just stays humble.]

[So jealous. Beautiful, a genius, AND loaded. Did God even give you a flaw?]

[Please don't forget us little people, Harper! Let me work for you someday!]

And of course, they couldn't praise her without dragging me down.

[Where is Blair? Didn't she always hate Harper for taking first place? Why so quiet now?]

[Lmao, she probably bombed the exams and is too ashamed to show her face. People who just grind textbooks can never beat real talent.]

[That broke loser is probably scrubbing dishes at some diner right now to pay for community college tuition.]

I scrolled past the malice without a flicker of emotion.

My attention was solely focused on a text message I had received half an hour ago from the manager of the Four Seasons.

[Miss Prescott, the young master arrived with a young lady and requested the Presidential Suite along with our highest-tier service package. However, his cards are declining. He asked us to put it on your tab. Do you authorize this?]

I almost threw up.

You want to sleep with her, and you want me to pay for the room? The sheer audacity.

I held down the microphone button and replied.

"What young master? There is only one heir to the Prescott family, and that is me. If this stranger wants to play pretend billionaire but doesn't have the cash, tell him to take out a payday loan."