Chapter 3: Betrayal in Broad Daylight

He said it like it was obvious, like my whole life was just a footnote in Savannah's story. My jaw clenched.

She brightened, then pretended to be annoyed and gave Tyler a playful smack.

She gave him a half-hearted smack on the arm, then giggled, her tears forgotten. "You're not allowed to talk about Mariah like that." Like flipping a switch.

I couldn't stand watching them flirt anymore. Pulled back from the doorway, cold.

It was like watching a bad high school drama play out in real time. I rolled my eyes and slipped away, biting back a bitter laugh.

So this is the standard response, huh?

Just keep comforting her. Keep pleasing her. No matter what the future holds.

Nobody ever got better by babying an injury like that. You have to keep practicing until it doesn't hurt anymore—that's the only way your wrist will adapt.

Coach always said, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body." I used to believe it. Still do, honestly. No shortcut. Never has been.

If you give up halfway, you'll just have to start over from scratch. Simple as that.

You'd think they'd get that by now. But some people always want the easy way out.

Tyler's all about strategy. Technique. He doesn't get the grind.

He'd rather watch tapes and talk theory than spend hours sweating on the strip. It's no wonder he and Savannah got along so well.

After I was kicked off, Tyler took my spot. Made sure Savannah was always in the spotlight. I had no way back.

He worked the system, charmed the coaches, made sure Savannah was always in the spotlight. I was just a name on a list, easy to erase. Forgotten.

One sentence. That's all it took. They took it for granted that I should be their stepping stone, paving the way for Savannah's success.

It was like I existed only to make her look good. The realization burned, deep and sharp.

Hatred boiled inside me. Hot, bitter, choking.

I felt it rise, hot and bitter, threatening to spill over. I clenched my fists until my knuckles ached.

Everyone who hurt and tormented me in my past life—I will pay them back, one by one.

This time, I swore, nobody was going to walk all over me. Not Savannah. Not Tyler. Not anyone.

My fingers found the silver locket at my chest.

The chain was cool against my skin, the locket's weight strangely comforting. It was the only thing I had left from those days—a secret I kept even from myself. Funny, the things you hold onto.

It was a hidden keepsake I had found by chance in the old library archives. Even though I'd set a secret code on it, I could only use the hidden compartment outside—the inheritance vault inside was off-limits.

I remember the day I found it, tucked behind a stack of dusty yearbooks. It felt like fate. But no matter what I tried, the inner vault stayed sealed, just out of reach.

I entered the secret space and dove into the spring-fed pool. The cold water battered me, but I could feel my strength growing.

The water was icy, shocking my system awake. Every nerve felt raw, alive. I gritted my teeth, pushing through the pain.

The pain nearly made me faint, but I gritted my teeth and endured it, feeling energy flood into me—more than ever before.

I could feel something shifting inside me—like old wounds knitting together, muscles growing denser, stronger. It was agony and ecstasy all at once.

In my previous life, I listened to the merman and only drank a sip of the spring water each day. It improved my health, but it wasn't enough to truly transform me—my skills crawled.

I always played it safe, afraid of what might happen if I pushed too far. But not this time. I wanted more. I needed more.

After leaving the space, I secluded myself for another half a month. Only when I felt stable did I leave my room.

The days blurred together—training, eating, sleeping, repeating. By the time I emerged, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. Stronger. Sharper. Ready.

I tossed three stones in succession into the deep pond behind the field, sending ripples across the surface. A blue-tailed merman emerged. Showtime.

The pond was hidden behind the old baseball diamond, overgrown with reeds. When the stones hit the water, the surface shimmered, and he appeared—otherworldly, beautiful, dangerous.

He was breathtakingly beautiful. Impatience burned in his eyes.

His hair glimmered like wet silver, his eyes an impossible shade of blue. But his mouth was set in a hard line, his gaze sharp.

The merman swam quickly to my side, swinging his massive tail, and demanded, his voice low:

"Mariah, are you trying to kill me? You haven't brought me medicine in so long!"