I don't know how long I stood there before I came back to myself.
I lunged forward, half-crazed, and a wall of bodyguards blocked me.
"Drew Simmons, what about me?"
I screamed it, nearly howling, my voice shredded with fury and the raw pain of betrayal.
But the cheering was too loud, the fireworks shaking every corner of the park, and no one heard me. No one saw the tears sliding down my face.
I don't remember how I got home. All I know is Melinda had to half-carry me back.
The cup of noodles was still on the table. Cold broth. Bloated, shapeless noodles.
I looked at it and started laughing.
My phone buzzed. A familiar profile picture. A message:
"Let's meet tomorrow so I can explain. Get some rest."
I didn't sleep that night.
Drew's hands on Zelda's stomach kept playing behind my eyes, over and over. That wasn't staged.
I dragged myself out of bed and searched for everything I could find on Simmons Technologies.
In a blurry old photo, I finally saw him. Teenage Drew, unmistakable.
The only son of Harbor City's richest family—and he'd spent seven years pretending to be poor right beside me.
I picked up my phone and blocked him.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by pounding on the door.