"Hey, idiot, wake up!"
A pillow flew straight at Ria's face.
"Get out! I want to sleep!" Ria yelled, grabbing another pillow and throwing it back blindly.
Ivy dodged easily, rolling her eyes as if she'd done this a thousand times before—which she had.
"Get your ass up, or I'm going to help you," Ivy said lazily.
She walked to the window and yanked the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the room in a warm, golden rush, instantly chasing away the shadows. Ria groaned like the light had personally offended her.
Her room wasn't fancy—far from it—but it was neat and soft in a way that spoke of effort rather than money. Pale beige walls, slightly faded from time, were decorated with a few framed prints she'd bought cheaply from a street vendor.
The bed was small but carefully made, covered with a cream-colored blanket that her grandmother had sewn years ago.
A wooden desk sat by the wall, its edges worn smooth, stacked with books, notebooks, and a chipped mug holding pens. Everything matched in an unintentional way—warm, simple, and lived-in.
"I don't want to go to school," Ria mumbled, sitting up and scratching her messy brown curls, which looked like they had fought the pillow all night and lost.
"Why? Because your crush knows you like him now?" Ivy asked flatly. "Is that why you're suddenly allergic to education?"
Ria froze for half a second. That was answer enough.
"I told you this would happen," Ivy continued, unimpressed. "Don't take it seriously. Men only stain your white. Now get up."
Ria clicked her tongue. "You talk like you're eighty."
"And you act like you're twelve," Ivy shot back, staring at her.
"Fine, fine." Ria stood up and stretched, her oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder.
"I'm going to bathe. Be a darling and make breakfast."
She didn't wait for permission, walking into the bathroom as Ivy scoffed behind her and left the room.
This was her life.
Ria Hayes.
Her family situation was a mess even she didn't bother trying to explain anymore. Her father, James Hayes, existed somewhere between physically present and emotionally absent. Her mother had long checked out of her life. Her stepmother, Rita, couldn't even pretend to care. Her grandmother, Vanessa, liked her simply because Ria didn't stress her—and in that house, that counted as love.
There were too many siblings to count without pausing. Her biological mother had four children—three daughters and a sickly son who could pass away at any time. The eldest daughter married and moved out of the city. The second daughter, Summer, left with their mother, Gloria. The sickly son stayed behind, and most of his care quietly fell on Ria's shoulders.
Rita came with her own baggage—a daughter, Maria, from another marriage. James adored Maria like she was made of gold. Then came the twins: Zack and Zaria. Ria was older than them by two years, old enough to be expected to understand everything and complain about nothing.
And Ivy?
Ivy wasn't blood. She was better.
Ivy was twenty-one, loud, sharp-tongued, and ambitious. She owned the small supermarket where Ria worked and dreamed of becoming a celebrity someday.
To Ria, Ivy was a best friend, a sister, and a refuge all in one. Whenever the house felt like it was closing in, Ria came here.
Because home wasn't home.
Secondhand clothes were normal. Clothes from neighbors, from charity boxes, worn until the fabric begged for mercy—that was normal too. She learned early that studying hard, working harder, and following rules didn't magically change reality.
She got into a good private school on scholarship.
That was when the bullying started.
Too poor.
Too smart.
Too pretty.
Boys stared. Girlfriends hated her for it. Teachers praised her, students despised her. Reality taught her fast and without mercy.
Still, Ria Hayes wasn't a weak Cinderella waiting for a prince.
If she were, she'd have sold the fairy godmother for cash already.
Because one thing Ria loved more than dignity, pride, or romance—
Was money.
Who doesn't love money?
Anyone who says money means nothing is either poor and consoling themselves—or rich and lying through their teeth. If money truly meant nothing, then why were the rich still obsessed with making more? Why not share it with everyone and be done with it?
Exactly.
Ria Hayes loved money. Openly. Honestly. Shamelessly.
She also happened to be the kindest person you'd ever meet.
At least, that was what people thought.
In reality, Ria was a chameleon.
She didn't have red flags because she changed colors depending on who stood in front of her. Sweet to teachers. Polite to adults. Sharp to enemies. Playful to friends. If life demanded innocence, she gave innocence. If it demanded claws, she showed claws.
She would have been expelled—or at least suspended—more times than she could count if not for Ivy.
That was why Ria called her mentor.
Ivy had a gift. She could talk her way out of hell and come back with change. Every time Ria crossed a line, Ivy appeared with documents, tears, stories, and an expression so convincing it could resurrect the dead. That instead they were the ones who they medical fees for .
Afterward, they split the compensation money between themselves.
Perfect teamwork.
Ria always thought she'd stay single forever. Not because she was unlovable—but because love was expensive, exhausting, and rarely profitable if you stick with one person.
Then she met him.
Matthew.
He lived in her heart rent-free, fully furnished, utilities included. Did they date?
Of course they did.
In her imagination.
Reality was cruel like that.
The real turning point came when Ria stole someone else's opportunity.
The best private school in the country—one reserved for elites, heirs, and families whose surnames alone opened doors.
Scholarships existed, but they were rare and viciously competitive.
Ria took one stroke one to be correct.
To survive there, she had to become someone else.
A rich girl.
She learned quickly. Bought high-quality imitations. Memorized brands she couldn't afford. Spoke carefully, laughed lightly, and never—ever—looked impressed. Fake it till you make it wasn't just a saying; it was her survival guide.
And Ria Hayes?
She was very good at faking.
Her crush was Matthew Night.
Not just any Matthew—Matthew Night, the quiet center of the SKZ group.
SKZ wasn't an ordinary school clique. It was where the real power gathered. Heirs from prestigious families. Blue-blood aristocrats whose surnames carried centuries of influence. Old-money elites who didn't need to flaunt wealth because it followed them everywhere.
And then there were the Gray families.
No one knew how much money they had. No one knew their real influence. Their power didn't show up on rankings or charity boards—but when they moved, people made way.
Matthew Night came from one of those families.
Night and day didn't even begin to describe the difference between them.
Ria knew it. Everyone knew it. Still… a girl was allowed to dream. Just a little.
As for Ivy—she was an illegitimate daughter herself. Which probably explained why she was such a master at pretending, adapting, and surviving. Once Ria's mentor in deception, Ivy now watched with mild pride as her "disciple" surpassed her.
The student had, unfortunately, defeated the master.
Ria finished bathing and slipped into her school uniform.
The uniform was simple but expensive-looking: a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into a dark pleated skirt that fell just above the knee, a fitted blazer with the school crest embroidered in silver on the chest, and a thin ribbon tie knotted carefully at her collar. Black knee-high socks and polished shoes completed the look—clean, restrained, and unmistakably elite.
On her, it worked dangerously well.
Her pale skin looked smooth and clear under the morning light, warmed slightly by a natural rosy undertone.
Her brown curls fell to her waist, still slightly damp, framing her face in soft waves. Her eyes—dark, wide, and sharp—held a quiet depth that made people look twice without knowing why. When she smiled, faint dimples appeared, subtle but disarming
.
She wasn't loud beautiful.
She was the kind that lingered the one you glanced at and keep on glancing it was the type that grabbed attention that is like a addictive drug .
Ria adjusted her blazer in the mirror and stared back at herself.
She grabbed her bag, squared her shoulders, and stepped out of the room—ready to face another day among people who had everything she didn't.
And absolutely determined to take her place anyway.
"Finally decided to come down," Ivy said when she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Ria walked into the kitchen, tying her hair loosely as she went. "What are you cooking?"
"You have eyes, don't you?" Ivy replied, rolling her eyes.
The kitchen was small but clean, clearly used often. Light-yellow tiles lined the walls, some cracked at the corners. A wooden dining table sat in the center with mismatched chairs, one leg slightly shorter than the others.
The cabinets were old but scrubbed so well they almost shone, and a pot of stew simmered quietly on the stove, filling the room with a warm, familiar smell. A single window above the sink let in morning light, illuminating the worn countertop and the neatly stacked plates beside it.
Ivy served the food into two bowls and placed them on the table. They sat down across from each other.
"So," Ivy said casually, picking up her spoon, "what happened?"
Ria clicked her tongue. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, come on," Ivy said, leaning forward with interest. "I like hearing about your failed love stories." She winked.