Reading Your Thoughts Set Me Free

I was walking home from school, shoulder-to-shoulder with the girl I had grown up with, the girl I had loved for as long as I could remember.

Then, a voice that wasn't mine scraped against the inside of my skull. It was her voice, but she hadnt opened her mouth. It was her inner thoughts.

Did Noah bring an umbrella today? Its pouring.

Her mind was entirely occupied by the new transfer studentNoah, the incredibly handsome guy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Before I could even process the shock, a sharper, far more vicious thought pierced my brain: If my familys company didnt desperately need the Crawford money, I wouldnt spend another second pretending to tolerate Tim.

Following me around every single day after school... its suffocating.

So, that was what I amounted to in her eyes. A suffocating nuisance.

I am Tim Crawford.

Hearing those words echo in my head, my entire body went rigid. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Beside me, Camilla Scott kept her eyes cast downward, her jaw set in that familiar, aloof line. Her lips were firmly pressed together. She definitely hadn't spoken aloud.

Yet, her voice continued to detonate inside my mind.

I heard Noah lives all the way out in the Heights. The roads flood so badly over there.

God, Im so worried about him. I just want to drive him home.

Ugh, this is so annoying. If I could just find an excuse to ditch Tim...

My feet felt like they were cast in concrete. A wave of profound bewilderment washed over me.

Camilla lazily lifted her eyelids, shooting me a glance so devoid of warmth it felt like a physical blow. Having known her for over a decade, I was well aware of her icy, detached demeanor. She was never one for words, and I had long ago conditioned myself to accept the emotional scraps she threw my way.

But right now, looking into her eyes, I saw something I had never allowed myself to see before: clear, unadulterated disgust.

Suddenly, a timid, male voice echoed from the back door of the classroom building.

"Camilla... my umbrella broke."

I turned around on instinct. Noah was standing right behind us.

His knuckles were white as he gripped a cheap, plaid umbrella. One of the metal ribs had snapped, dangling pathetically in the wind.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't want to bother you guys, but I can't afford to ruin my textbooks in the rain..."

He trailed off, his gaze darting up to catch Camillas eye. The rims of his eyes were flushed red, brimming with a perfectly calibrated mix of anxiety and helplessness.

He had only transferred to our prep school last week and barely spoke to anyone. For him to suddenly approach the coldest girl in school for help was... unexpected.

Camilla was infamous for despising inconvenience. She was ruthless when she wanted to be.

But this time, she paused. When she finally spoke, her cool, crisp voice cut through the sound of the rain.

"Tim, I can't walk home with you today."

"Since Noah lives so far out, I'm going to drop him off."

Her face was an impenetrable mask. If I hadn't been listening to the live broadcast of her internal monologue, I would have honestly believed this was just a pragmatic, charitable decision.

"And what about me?" I asked, a bitter, mocking edge bleeding into my tone.

Camilla frowned. "Your driver is literally idling at the front gates, isn't he?"

"Just use Noah's umbrella for the walk over. It's a short distance. You'll survive a few raindrops."

Without waiting for an answer, she snatched the broken umbrella from Noah's hands and shoved it against my chest.

Seeing my silence, Noahs face twisted into a mask of overwhelming guilt.

He twisted the hem of his uniform sweater, his voice trembling. "No, I couldn't possibly ask Tim to use a broken umbrella... I've imposed on you both too much."

"Let's just forget it. I'll just make a run for it."

He took a step back, pretending to brace himself for the storm, but Camilla immediately reached out, her fingers wrapping tightly around his forearm.

She turned to me, her brow furrowed in silent warning, her lips drawn into a tight, displeased line.

Then, her mind screamed into mine.

Here we go again. Tims throwing another one of his little tantrums. I am so sick of this.

Hes spent his whole life coasting on the Crawford name, thinking the universe revolves around him.

Well, Im done catering to his fragile ego. I like Noah. Does he really need me to spell it out for him?

I can't let Noah walk home in the rain...

My lungs suddenly felt too small. Something fundamental and fragile was quietly shattering against my ribs.

Before she could open her mouth to scold me, I took a deliberate step backward.

"Go ahead," I said. "Both of you."

I watched Camilla exhale a quiet breath of relief. She turned her body toward Noah, her voice softening to a murmur. "Give me your backpack, Noah."

Noah shot me a lookhesitant, almost apologeticbefore nodding obediently and ducking under Camilla's wide, designer umbrella.

In a matter of seconds, their silhouettes melted into the heavy gray curtain of the rain.

I looked down at my hands.

Then, I tossed Noahs broken umbrella onto the wet concrete and walked out into the storm.

At the school gates, the headlights of the sleek black SUV cut through the gloom.

Thomas, our longtime driver, froze for a second before hastily popping open a massive umbrella and jogging toward me.

"Tim? Where's Camilla? Why are you alone?"

"Just drive, Thomas," I said, sliding into the leather backseat.

I leaned my head against the cool glass, my throat burning with a sudden, agonizing tightness.

When I walked through the front door, my mothers face instantly fell into a mask of panic.

She rushed over with a towel, aggressively drying my hair while she scolded me. "Tim Crawford, what on earth were you thinking? You're drenched!"

"Where is Camilla? Doesn't she ride back with you every afternoon?"

"Look at you, your lips are turning blue! If your father finds out about this while hes closing that deal in London, hell charter a flight back tonight..."

"Mom." I lowered my eyes, cutting off her frantic rambling. My voice sounded raw. "I just want to go up to my room and sleep."

She stopped rubbing the towel, her gaze lingering on my pale face for a long, quiet moment.

"Maria," she called out to the housekeeper, turning toward the kitchen. "Boil some ginger tea, immediately. Ill bring it up to him myself."

She didn't press me for answers.

I changed out of my ruined uniform and walked upstairs.

When my bedroom door clicked shut, the silence of the house finally swallowed me whole.

But my mind refused to quiet down. The scenes from the afternoon looped endlessly behind my eyes.

I thought about the faint, genuine smile that had tugged at Camilla's lips when she looked at Noah.

I thought about the sheer exhaustion and irritation in her eyes when she looked at me.

Sitting there in the fading light, the truth finally sank its claws into me.

I wasn't losing my mind. The voices I heard weren't hallucinations.

Camilla didn't just tolerate me for the perks; she actively despised me.

I had spent my entire life rationalizing her behavior, telling myself she was just built differentlythat her coldness was a shield she used against everyone.

It took a supernatural intervention for me to finally see the pathetic reality.

She wasn't incapable of warmth. She just didn't want to waste it on me.

The heavy silence of my room was shattered by my phone vibrating on the nightstand.

The caller ID flashed in the dark: Camilla.

The moment I answered, her voice lashed out through the speaker.

"Tim, what exactly did you tell your parents?"

"It was pouring rain. I simply offered Noah a ride home. Did you really have to run crying to my father about it?"

I could hear her breathing over the lineshallow, erratic, panicked.

It was rare to see her lose her composure like this.

"Camilla," I said, my voice shockingly steady.

"Did you call just to interrogate me?"

"Or did you genuinely believe that just because my parents didn't make a fuss, your father wouldn't find out what you did?"

Dead silence on her end.

Through the phone, my newfound ability to read her mind seemed to be offline. But I didn't need a superpower to picture the venomous scowl twisting her perfect features.

After a long agonizing minute, she spoke, her tone dripping with ice.

"Could you not just cover for me this once?"

"At the end of the day, you're just throwing a tantrum. You purposely let"

I took a deep breath, letting the final thread of my childhood affection snap.

"Camilla. Why the hell is it my responsibility to cover for your messes?"

Whatever she was about to say died in her throat.

A dark, bitter laugh escaped me.

"You think your dad heard it from me?"

"Are you that naive? How many sets of eyes do you think your father has watching us every single day?"

"He, better than anyone, knows exactly how many multi-million dollar contracts the Crawfords have handed to the Scotts to keep you afloat."

There was a muffled thud on the other end of the line, like she had slammed her fist against a desk.

"Are you done?!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Why?" I countered smoothly. "If I stop saying it out loud, does it stop being the truth?"

For years, there were unspoken rules between us. Things I knew but never voiced to protect her pride. But silence is not ignorance.

The Scotts were a sprawling, chaotic family with too many heirs and too little liquid cash. Camilla had once been the quietest, most overlooked daughter in the bunch.

But the Crawfords were old money, deeply rooted in the city's power structures for three generations, and I was the sole heir to the entire empire.

My parents adored me, and by extension, they extended their gilded umbrella over my favorite childhood companion.

Because of me, the Scott Corporationwhich had flirted with bankruptcy more than oncewas thrown lifelines. Debt forgiveness. Premium real estate developments. Exclusive supply chain contracts.

Because I stood next to her, Camilla was suddenly viewed as the golden goose by her ruthless father.

She went silent again, calculating her next move.

When she finally spoke, the panic was gone, replaced by a suffocating, arrogant entitlement.

"Im not going to contact you for a while, Tim."

"Take some time to reflect on how you're acting."

Before I could even formulate a response, the line went dead.

The cold war began.

I knew she was waiting for me to crack. She was waiting for me to show up with an apology and a peace offering, just like I had after every minor argument wed ever had since we were kids.

Day three of the silent treatment.

I was walking down the main hallway toward my AP Economics class when Noah suddenly collided with me.

Before my brain could even register the impact, he was already sprawled out on the polished marble floor, clutching his ankle, his face contorted in exaggerated agony.

The hallway traffic came to a halt. A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto the spectacle.

From the crowd, a sharp, furious voice rang out.

"Tim, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

I turned. Camilla was glaring at me, her eyes practically radiating disgust.

On the floor, Noah bit his lower lip, forcing his voice into a trembling whisper. "It's not Tim's fault... I was just walking too fast."

Hes so sweet. Look at him, still trying to protect Tim even after what he did.

I ignore him for three days, and his response is to physically bully Noah? He really is a spoiled, vindictive brat.

Once I take over my fathers company, I am going to make Tim pay for this.

The thoughts fired into my brain like a machine gun, loud and violently clear.

I casually scanned the circle of students watching us. My pulse was completely steady.

"He walked into me," I stated flatly.

Camillas brow pinched in deep irritation.

"Just stop. Why are you even lying?"

"What, you think he threw himself on the floor and sprained his own ankle just to frame you?"

She sneered the last word, dripping with condescension.

I looked down at Noah, who was still wearing his mask of perfect victimhood.

"Actually, yeah," I said smoothly. "Because he knows theres someone pathetic enough to come running like a dog off its leash to defend him, regardless of the facts."

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the hallway.

Noahs head snapped up, a single, perfectly timed tear tracking down his cheek.

"Tim, I know you hate me, but how could you say something so degrading to Camilla? She was just trying to help..."

Camillas fists clenched so hard her knuckles turned stark white.

"Are you really going to push it this far, Tim?"

"Its obvious you haven't learned a damn thing from this space I've given you"

"If you think I'm out of line," I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave, "then you should probably sever ties with the Crawford family."

"I'll make sure to let my parents know your stance when I get home. You might want to start prepping your PR team."

There it is again. Every time he throws a fit, he uses his familys money to threaten me.

Whatever. Hes bluffing. I'll ice him out for a few more days, and hell come crawling back.

When he finally calms down, Im making him apologize to Noah on his knees.

Her internal monologue laid out her delusional strategy bare.

"Whatever. I don't care," she shot back, her voice dripping with ice.

She leaned down, slipping an arm around Noah's shoulders, hauling him to his feet.

"Just hold onto me," she murmured softly. "I'll take you to the nurse."

Noah leaned heavily against her, the tear still wet on his cheek. But as they turned away, the corner of his mouth quirked up, and he shot me a look of triumphant, undisguised mockery.

I didn't even flinch. I just turned and walked into my classroom.

My father flew back from London that evening.

Behind the heavy oak doors of his study, he loosened his silk tie and tossed a thick manila folder onto his mahogany desk.

"Take a look. That's the proposal from the Scotts."

"It's the Eastside Development project. Robert Scott has been blowing up my phone for weeks, but Ive been stalling."

"What do you think, Tim?"

I knew exactly how my father felt about the Scott Corporation.

Over the years, the Scotts had built their empire using the Crawfords' blueprints, our capital, and our political connections. My father was a man of straightforward integrity; he had always loathed Robert Scott's slimy, opportunistic business practices.

The only reason he had tolerated themthe only reason he had poured millions into their sinking shipswas because he loved me. He saw how devoted I was to Camilla, and he had operated under the assumption that he was funding his future daughter-in-law's inheritance.

But judging by the cool detachment in his voice, he had already caught wind of the shifting tides at school. His patience with the Scotts had evaporated.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Dad, I was stupid for a long time. But I'm awake now."

"Cut them off. We're done doing business with the Scotts."

A slow, proud smile spread across his face. He pushed the heavy folder toward the edge of the desk.

"Done. I'll make the call."

"But I want you to remember something, Tim. You are a Crawford. You are the future of this empire."

"You don't ever bow your head to anyone."

Looking at the fierce, unwavering loyalty in my father's eyes, I gave a firm nod.

10

My dad didn't reject their proposal outright.

Instead, he employed a much crueler tactic: radio silence. He ignored every call, letting the Scotts drown in their own mounting panic.

Back at school, I went to the administration and requested a seat transfer.

As I was packing up my books, Camilla glanced up from her iPad.

Finally moving. I can actually breathe.

After what he did to Noah, I need to ice him out longer to teach him a lesson.

But... what if he goes after Noah while I'm not around?

Her concern was entirely misplaced.

For the next few weeks, I completely erased Camilla from my orbit. I didn't text her. I didn't wait by her locker. I took the chauffeured car home alone. I gave her all the suffocating "space" she could ever want.

She lived in blissful ignorance, genuinely convinced I was just throwing a prolonged tantrum.

Meanwhile, her romance with Noah blossomed into a public spectacle.

She tutored him in the library. She took detention with him when he was late.

For Noah's birthday, she gifted him a custom-engraved silver ring with their initials.

At first, the whispers in the cafeteria were filled with pity and amusement directed at me. Everyone knew Camilla and I had been practically attached at the hip since childhood. The rumor of our inevitable arranged marriage was prep school lore.

But when it became blatantly obvious that I was entirely unfazedthat I wasn't plotting a comeback or brooding in the cornerthe gossip died out. I was boring. I had moved on.

This fragile ecosystem lasted for about half a month.

Until Robert Scott finally hit a wall with his stalling investors, and turned the pressure on his daughter.

11

With the Eastside project in limbo and their invitations to Crawford galas politely declined, the Scott familys cash flow was drying up. To make matters worse, a massive piece of commercial real estate they had mortgaged was bleeding them dry, waiting for an injection of Crawford capital that was never coming.

Unable to hold out any longer, Robert Scott dragged Camilla to the Crawford estate.

In our sprawling living room, Camilla sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, her head bowed, her jaw locked.

Her thoughts, however, were screaming.

Three investors pulling out on the same day? Bullshit. The Crawfords absolutely orchestrated this behind the scenes.

There is no way Tim has the guts to pull this off. It has to be his old man pulling the strings.

Theyre just bitter that Im choosing Noah, and theyre using dirty financial warfare to force me to crawl back to Tim.

I dont get it. Were the Scotts. We're a massive corporation. Why does my father act like well die without the Crawfords? I shouldn't have to sell myself to Tim.

Seeing Camillas stubborn silence, Mr. Scott leaned forward, offering a pristine folder to my father with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Richard, this is the revised proposal for the Eastside deal. Weve restructured the profit-sharing entirely in your favor. Just let me know if there's anything else you'd like adjusted"

My dad took the folder, didn't even open it, and dropped it onto the glass coffee table with a heavy thwack.

"Robert, since you came all the way out here, I'll spare you the corporate dance."

"We are not funding this project. Furthermore, the Crawford Group will be systematically divesting from all current joint ventures with Scott Corp."

The blood drained from Robert Scott's face, leaving him a sickly, translucent white. He scrambled to speak.

"Richard, please. We've known each other for decades. We're practically family! Why take it this far?"

"I know you're upset about the friction between the kids. That's why I dragged this ungrateful daughter of mine here today."

He whirled around, his voice vibrating with sudden, explosive rage.

"Apologize to Tim! Now!"