The first week of rivalry had passed like a slow-burning storm. Isabella had been careful, subtle, leaving hints, planting whispers in Liam's ear, trying to destabilize me.
But subtlety, I had learned, was no match for calculation.
She had underestimated me.
It started with a rumor.
"Crystal stole my notebook," one of the teachers said, holding a crumpled spiral notebook in their hand.
I froze for half a heartbeat, then let the mask settle back into place. Calm. Controlled.
"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice soft, measured.
"She says it disappeared yesterday. Only you had access to the classroom," the teacher added.
The accusation was clear. Theft. A path straight to suspension.
I glanced at Isabella, who was barely concealing a smug smile from across the room. She had played it carefully—leaving the notebook in a place only I could have accessed, making it seem as though I had taken it.
She had almost succeeded.
Almost.
I didn't speak. I didn't flinch. I only watched.
Later, in the empty library, I gathered the pieces.
Isabella had used the rear hallway cameras to her advantage.
She had timed her movements to make sure witnesses would see me near the notebook.
She had underestimated the trust others had in me—or, more accurately, my ability to create evidence.
A grin slowly curved across my face.
She thought she was clever. She had no idea she was playing in my house now.
Step one: gain Liam's absolute trust.
I called him after school.
"Liam," I said, voice low and intimate, "I need your help."
"Anything," he whispered. He always said that. Always.
"Someone's trying to frame me… I can't do it alone. You have to trust me completely."
"Of course I trust you," he said.
Step two: the evidence.
I had memorized the camera angles, the teacher's habits, and every student who could corroborate my movements. I didn't have to lie. I simply had to guide the truth.
The next morning, Isabella thought she would see my downfall.
The teacher summoned me and Isabella to the office. Liam followed closely behind, tension written across his face.
"You have twenty-four hours to explain this, Crystal," the teacher said, holding the notebook like a sword.
I smiled softly, letting my hands rest lightly on the desk. Calm. Controlled.
"I can explain," I said, quiet but firm. "But I think some details need clarity."
I subtly glanced at Isabella, letting the smallest trace of menace curl in my gaze. She flinched—just slightly—but enough to know she was caught off guard.
Step one: redirect suspicion.
"Who else had access to the classroom yesterday?" I asked innocently.
The teacher thought for a moment. "Several students…"
Step two: reveal the inconsistencies.
I described Isabella's movements, the rare teacher who had noticed her lingering near my desk, the fact that the notebook had been moved to a spot only Isabella could have reached unnoticed.
Step three: the coup de grâce.
I let Liam speak. "I saw her place the notebook in Crystal's bag," he said softly, but firmly. "I didn't want to believe it, but I saw her."
The room froze. Isabella's smirk faltered.
I leaned in slightly, voice silk over steel:
"Sometimes, the person pointing fingers forgets whose eyes are watching."
By the end of the day, Isabella was suspended for attempting to frame me.
I walked the halls with Liam by my side, his hand brushing mine lightly, protective, devoted.
"I… I'll do anything to keep you safe," he whispered, as if the world had narrowed to just us.
"Anything?" I asked softly, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"Anything," he repeated, eyes bright with loyalty and obsession.
Perfect.
The thrill of outmaneuvering Isabella wasn't just victory.
It was proof: my plans worked. Every detail. Every calculation. Every patient move.
Liam's trust was cemented. His devotion strengthened. He didn't see me as manipulative. He saw me as someone fragile he had to protect. Someone he would do anything for.
And in the quiet of my room that night, I allowed myself a small, sharp smile.
Rivalry had only strengthened my game.
Isabella had made a mistake. She had played the game before knowing all the rules.
And I? I had been sharpening my teeth for years.
The pieces were in place. The strings were taut. And the next moves… were mine.
Before sleep, I stared out at the city lights once more, hands folded across my chest.
"Try to stop me, Isabella. Try to take what's mine. You'll only find yourself crushed beneath your own arrogance."
And then I added, softly, for myself:
"Liam… the games have just begun. But you, my darling, will follow every step."
Because Crystal Whitman didn't just survive.
Crystal Whitman dominated.
And those who thought they could challenge her…
would learn too late.