Chapter 2: The Campus Queen’s Stand

At the entrance of the University of Michigan, crowds surged. Today was registration day for Maria—and also the day I was supposed to give a speech as a featured alum.

The campus buzzed with excitement—families hauling suitcases, freshmen taking selfies by the big blue M, the smell of coffee and fallen leaves everywhere. I felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering my own first day, full of nerves and hope.

I stepped out of a black Tesla in a black swan evening gown. My skin was fair, my walk graceful. I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I crossed the quad, my heart thumping in my chest.

Heads turned as I walked across the quad, heels clicking on the pavement. The dress shimmered in the sun—a little drama for a big day. I felt like I was stepping into a story, every eye a reminder of how far I’d come.

Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the air beside me.

The sound cut through the crowd like a siren, making me wince. I turned, scanning for the source, already bracing myself for trouble.

“Maria Reyes, you think you’re something now? Sneaking off to school, pretending you don’t know your parents? Not helping your brother?”

Her words were sharp, ugly, full of accusation. People stopped to stare, some pulling out their phones, others just shaking their heads.

My eyes narrowed as I pushed through the crowd. I followed the voice, bracing myself for what I’d find.

I could feel my pulse quicken as I shouldered past students, determined to find Maria before things got worse. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

At last, I saw Maria in tears, begging over and over.

She was on her knees, hands clasped, her voice hoarse from pleading. The sight made my stomach twist with anger and pity.

A hard-faced woman yanked her hair, shouting, “We let you go to high school to raise your bride price so your brother can get married, not so you could go to college! Once you’re out, you’ll forget your family!”

The woman’s grip was cruel, her words even crueler. I could see the old pain in Maria’s eyes—the kind that comes from being told you’re never enough, no matter what you do.

To this woman, Maria was just a commodity, her value measured by a bride price (groom’s family cash).

It was an old story, but it still made my blood boil. I wanted to shake her, make her see the girl in front of her, not just a price tag.

Maria winced, but her voice stayed soft. “Mom, can you please go home? I promise, after I finish college, I’ll help my brother get married.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a steel in it that made me proud. She was fighting for her future, even with the odds stacked against her.

Finally, the crowd had enough.

A few students stepped forward, voices raised in protest. Someone pulled out their phone, recording the scene. The air crackled with tension, the crowd shifting, ready to take Maria’s side.

But the woman ignored them. Just as she raised her hand to slap Maria, I stepped forward and caught her arm.

I didn’t hesitate, stepping between them like a shield. My fingers dug into her wrist, stopping her cold. The crowd gasped, and for a second, everything went silent.

“Girls are meant to be cherished, not used as tools to help their brothers get married!”

My voice rang out, clear and fierce. I didn’t care who was watching. In that moment, I was every big sister, every friend who’d ever had to fight for someone.

My voice was sharper than usual, and it stunned her.

She stared at me, eyes wide, her anger faltering. The crowd pressed in, waiting to see what would happen next.

Seeing my expensive clothes, she quickly forced a smile. “Miss, this is our family’s business. Maria’s just a shameless girl—she hooked a rich man, got money for college, and now she’s ignoring her family.”

Her tone turned sweet, but I could see the calculation in her eyes.

Maria barely flinched at her mother’s words—she’d heard it all before.

She kept her eyes down, shoulders hunched, as if she could disappear if she tried hard enough. My heart broke for her, wishing I could erase every hurtful word.

She tried to protest, voice shaky. “Mom, I only have a hundred thousand in total—I already gave eighty thousand to the family. Can’t you just go home?”

Her voice trembled, but she stood her ground. I squeezed her hand, letting her know I was here. She didn’t have to face this alone anymore.

I took her hand, squeezed it gently.

I glanced down at her, offering a small smile. I wanted her to feel the strength in my grip, to know she was safe, at least for now.

I turned to the woman and smiled. “Maria’s tuition was a gift from me. After she graduates, she’ll work at Calloway Holdings with a six-figure salary and a brilliant future.”

I spoke loud enough for the whole crowd to hear, so everyone knew the score. The words hung in the air, a promise and a warning.

The woman’s cloudy eyes instantly lit up, and she grinned. “If Maria’s making that much, of course Mom supports you going to college!”

It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so sad. She reached for Maria, but I stepped in front of her, blocking the way.

I pulled Maria forward, blocking her mother’s path.

I could feel Maria’s confusion, her body tense with uncertainty. I squeezed her hand tighter, giving her the courage to stand tall.

“Not so fast.” I smiled. Pulled out my phone.

I dialed quickly, my voice calm and businesslike. Within minutes, my assistant appeared, briefcase in hand, eyes sharp, ready for whatever I needed.

Soon, my assistant arrived with a black leather bag. I took out a stack of cash—ten thousand dollars—and slapped it down in front of her.

The slap of money echoed, drawing gasps from the crowd. I held her gaze, daring her to protest. Sometimes, the only language people like her understood was cold, hard cash.

“Kneel. Apologize to Maria. Then it’s yours.”

Her face flushed, but she still beamed, kneeling to Maria and apologizing—voice trembling, but eyes locked on the money.

It was a pitiful sight, but I didn’t feel sorry for her.

Maria deserved better—an apology, and a little bit of justice.

I said coldly, “There’s a clause in Maria’s contract—she can’t give any of her future salary to her family, or she’ll be fired immediately.”

I made sure everyone heard me. The message was clear: Maria’s future belonged to her, and her alone. No more leeches. No more guilt.

This meant the woman wouldn’t get a single cent from Maria’s future income. Her eyes visibly dimmed.

The greed faded from her face, replaced by a bitter scowl. She glanced at the money in her hands, realizing it was all she’d ever get.

I patted the black bag and continued, “But if you sign a waiver relinquishing any financial claim over Maria right now, all this is yours.”

I opened the bag, letting her see the stacks of bills inside. The crowd gasped, some snapping photos, others just shaking their heads in disbelief.

She agreed instantly, nodding over and over. After she signed the agreement, I dumped the black bag over her head, thick wads of bills fluttering down.

It was a spectacle, money raining down in front of the whole campus. Some students cheered, others just stared, unsure whether to be shocked or impressed.

Her head was bleeding, but she didn’t move. I yanked her hair hard. “This is payback for what you did to Maria.”

My anger burned hot, but I kept my voice steady. Maria flinched, but I held her close, letting her know the worst was over.

Campus social feeds exploded. Posts about the campus queen slapping down stacks of cash for a pitiful girl went viral.

By lunchtime, my phone buzzed nonstop—texts, DMs, even a few news alerts. People loved a good drama, especially when it had a hero and a villain.

The campus queen was me. The pitiful girl was Maria.

The labels made me laugh, a little. If only they knew how complicated things really were. Still, I was glad Maria finally had someone in her corner.

By the time I saw the post, our family doctor was treating the cuts on Maria’s scalp.

He worked quietly, hands gentle, while I hovered nearby, fussing over every detail. Maria sat still, biting her lip, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Leaning on the sofa, I watched Maria—her eyes red, like a scared rabbit—and couldn’t help but think how adorable she was.

She looked so small, wrapped in a blanket, hair mussed from the scuffle. My heart ached for her, but also swelled with pride. She was braver than she knew.

Maria looked up at me, eyes shining. “Sis, I’ll pay you back someday.”

Her voice was soft, but determined. I could see the wheels turning in her head, already planning how she’d make good on her promise.

I shook my head. “No need. Your big sister’s got your back.”

I smiled, ruffling her hair. “That’s what family’s supposed to do,” I added, my voice gentle. Maria blinked back tears, a small smile breaking through.

With that spark in her, Maria was destined for great things. One day, she’d have more money than she could ever spend.

I believed it, deep down. She had the kind of drive that couldn’t be stopped, no matter how many times the world tried to knock her down.

But I wouldn’t live to see her pay me back, and I didn’t want her to.

That thought stung, but I pushed it aside. I wanted her to remember me as someone who believed in her, not someone who needed anything in return.