PRINCESS DELA BOTE

"Kenneth, this is my best friend from school, Alyssa Arden. What do you think? Pretty, right?"

Sherry Campbell's voice cut through the pounding music, dragging me straight back to the night I first met Kenneth Wadzinski.

He didn't care about me then—same as now. Barely looked my way, too busy nursing his drink.

Sherry draped a hand on my shoulder, flashing that fake smile. "Alyssa, what do you think of Kenneth? His family's in real estate. They're the richest in the city."

I ducked my head, plastering on a shy smile. "He's great. Be right back—I need to hit the restroom."

Classic Sherry. Crushing on Kenneth but shoving him at me anyway. And Kenneth? Total jerk. He didn't even like me—just kept me around to feed his ego. Their whole game was rigged, and I was the easy pawn.

In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, then slid off my thick black-framed glasses.

Not this time. They weren't going to play me anymore. Who says the ugly duckling has to stay ugly?

Grabbing my bag, I headed out without a word. Right on cue, Kenneth was by the door, sitting alone on a bench tucked out of sight.

His head was down like he was studying something.

In my last life, I'd learned a lot about him—mostly thanks to Sherry.

Today was his birthday. Also the anniversary of his mom's death.

Back then, they'd all pushed me to toast him. I caved, and he humiliated me in front of everyone, mocking me about how I couldn't tell brandy from whiskey. Then he walked off, leaving me there, humiliated and empty-handed.

This time? Not happening.

I dug a carton of strawberry milk out of my bag. It was supposed to be my breakfast, but it felt way more useful as a prop.

"Here," I said, holding it out. "Drinking too much isn't great for your stomach."

Kenneth glanced up, icy as ever. "I don't need your pity."

"Cool," I said, unfazed. I set the milk next to him. "But if you trash your stomach, your mom wouldn't like it."

I didn't wait for him to respond. Just turned and walked off, ignoring the weight of his stare.

To Kenneth—and Sherry—I was invisible.

But not for long. This time, I'd make sure Kenneth couldn't look away. And I'd turn him and Sherry against each other.

When Sherry came back to the dorm, she whined about me leaving without saying anything. Like always, I played my part—smiling, apologizing, smoothing it all over.

She skipped class? I marked her attendance. Didn't feel like getting food? I brought it to her. Thought the dorm washing machines were gross? I hand-washed her clothes one by one.

Our roommates loved to whisper behind my back. "What's the point? Sherry's not giving her a dime," they'd say.

I ignored them, sticking to my role as Sherry's personal doormat.

And when I wasn't running errands, I was her audience.

"The cafeteria food is disgusting," she'd say. "Maybe I'll just ask my dad to open a food factory on campus."

Then there was Kenneth, dropping by with flowers, gifts, snacks—always something shiny for her. Sometimes, he'd even bring me a little trinket, like I was a pity project.

And like the idiot I was, I'd deliver their meals together.