Chapter 2

Pearl was clever; she never explicitly stated anything.

She rode in our family car to school.

When classmates asked, "Is that your family car?"

She'd smile and reply, "The driver just happened to be passing by today."

Everyone then assumed it was her car.

She wore Summer's old cashmere jacket, one Summer had given her.

She'd lower her head and adjust the cuffs.

"My mom always complains my closet is a mess and says if I don't wear things, I should donate them."

She'd take photos in the Sterling greenhouse.

The caption would read: "Mom rushing me home for dinner."

The photo would intentionally show a corner of the dining room's crystal chandelier.

That chandelier was a one-of-a-kind piece my mom had brought back from Italy.

She attended the Sterling Charity Gala.

Even though Mrs. Miller only entered with the domestic staff, Pearl found opportunities to stand nearby for photos.

The edge of the picture would conveniently show the backs of my dad and the board members talking.

Her caption: "Dragged to another one of these boring adult meetings."

The next morning, Jordan sent me the files.

I sat in the hotel study, flipping through page after page.

On the Sterling Heights forum, an anonymous account had been posting since freshman year.

"Isn't that sponsored girl too fake?"

"Just because she lives near her benefactors, she thinks she's family?"

"Let's expose the girl who got into Sterling Heights on someone else's dime and then bites the hand that feeds her."

The posts didn't name anyone directly.

But each time, they'd feature a side profile of Summer, her backpack, or her desk.

In the comments, someone would ask if it was Summer.

The original poster would reply: "I didn't say it was, IYKYK."

The phone number registered to that account had the same last digits as Pearl's.

There were also class group chat screenshots.

Someone wrote: "Pearl, why is your family still sponsoring Summer? She doesn't seem very grateful."

Pearl posted a 'woe is me' emoji.

"Don't say that. Summer isn't a bad person, just a little sensitive."

"She's been close with us since childhood, maybe she just wants to fit in too much."

"My mom always says we should be more accommodating with her."

I scrolled to the end and saw Summer's competition records.

Last year, for the National Biology Modeling Competition, Summer had spent three months organizing her notes, which she lent to Pearl to copy.

Later, Pearl used those notes to explain problems in class.

Classmates praised her for being brilliant.

She'd smile and say, "It's nothing, Summer struggles with the basics, so I often tutor her, and I just happened to organize some notes for her."

That year, Summer had clearly won the preliminary round at school.

But the final recommendation spot went to Pearl.

The reason given: she had "better overall influence and was more suitable to represent the school."

I stared at that line for a long time.

Then I called Summer's homeroom teacher.

"Who is this?"

"Hello, I'm Summer's older sister. I'd like to understand how she's doing at school."

The teacher's voice paused for a few seconds, then warmed.

"Oh, Summer. Her grades are good, but her personality is a bit introverted. We've been trying to guide her, teaching her to be grateful and not always to compete with Pearl."

I let out a small laugh. "Compete?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Pearl's family has helped her a lot, but Summer sometimes doesn't understand boundaries. For example, with competitions and club resources, she always feels she deserves the best."

"Why shouldn't she deserve the best?"

My question stunned the teacher.

"That's not what I mean. It's just that her family situation is unique, and the school certainly hopes she'll be more stable. Pearl, after all..."

She suddenly stopped.

I finished her sentence for her. "After all, she seems more like a Sterling child, right?"

Silence on the other end of the line.

I hung up.

Half an hour later, I went to the school apartment where Summer lived.

To save her the commute, our parents had arranged a small apartment for her near the school, registered under the foundation's name.

This was another one of our protective measures.

But in the mouths of her classmates, it had become "the dorm provided by the Sterlings for a charity student."

The moment the door opened, Summer froze. "Aubrey?"

Her eyes immediately reddened.

But then, she anxiously looked behind me.

"Why are you back? Do Mom and Dad know? Did you go to school? Did anyone see you?"

My heart ached, and I hugged her tight.

"Summer, tell me first, what are you so afraid of?"

She stiffened.

After a long moment, she whispered, "I'm not afraid."

I released her and looked into her eyes. "Then tell me, why is Pearl riding in our family's car?"

Her face instantly went pale.

"Aubrey..."

"Why was your competition spot taken by her?"

"Why does the whole school say you're the housekeeper's daughter?"

Her lips trembled, and tears finally fell.

"I tried to explain."

"But no one believed me."