Chapter 2

My roommates and classmates piled on. They accused me of throwing my money around, bullying anyone less fortunate, and treating ordinary people—especially scholarship students—like dirt.

The accusations exploded online.

Strangers across the country joined the abuse. My university expelled me for bringing it into disrepute. My family called me a disgrace and cut me off.

With my name ruined and nowhere to go, I survived on food scavenged from dumpsters.

Before long, I suffered a fatal case of food poisoning. I died beside the road, completely alone.

Trevor, on the other hand, preyed on my parents' guilt until they adopted him. Then he took everything that should have been mine.

He appeared at high-profile receptions as the Fairchild heir, looking insufferably pleased with himself.

Once, as he raised a champagne glass, he'd declared, "A toast to this truly momentous day!"

Fortunately, fate had given me another chance.

The Trevor in front of me was still the impoverished student who needed my sponsorship to survive.

Nothing had happened yet.

This time, I would make sure he paid for his own greed.

"I'm not feeling well," I said coolly. "I'll skip dinner."

Let's see how Trevor handles the bill without his favorite sucker around to pay it.

The classroom fell silent.

Every head turned toward me. I ignored them and started for the door.

Trevor hurried over and blocked my path. He shoved his backpack into my arms.

"Landon, I've got medicine in here. Take some and you'll feel better.

"We're all meeting for the first time! A dinner like this means something. If you miss today, you can never get it back!

"Just push through the discomfort. Make a little sacrifice for the group."

He wrapped his demand in noble-sounding speeches, but it was obvious what he wanted: to make me feel guilty enough to come.

In this life, I wasn't putting up with his nonsense.

I tossed his backpack aside.

"Unfortunately for you, I can't just 'push through it.' And I'm not taking random medicine that has nothing to do with my symptoms."

I met his eyes.

"If you stop me from getting medical care and something happens to me, that's on you."

The backpack burst open. Its contents scattered across the floor.

Among them was the so-called medicine: a bottle of senior wellness supplements Trevor had bought with my money. He'd been planning to mail them to his parents.

I almost laughed at the absurdity.

Trevor stood frozen, clearly unprepared for me to turn on him so sharply. Then he crouched to gather his things, discreetly wiping away tears.

"I didn't think of it that way," he said, his voice breaking. "I just didn't want you to miss out and regret it forever."

"If you don't want to come, Mr. Fairchild, then don't. I shouldn't have interfered."

He looked so wounded, so selfless, that it would have been convincing if I didn't know him.

My classmates glared at me.

"It's just dinner! How much time could it possibly take? Trevor was trying to help, and you threatened him. Landon, you're unbelievable!"

"You're healthy as a horse. You're not sick! You just think you're too good to eat with us!"

"The Fairchild heir is more delicate than a porcelain doll. Apparently he can't stand breathing the same air as the rest of us."

"Rich kids always have some ridiculous excuse."

Trevor acted even more distressed than I did.

"Landon loves going out to dinner," he protested. "He's always inviting the other wealthy kids from his circle..."

He stopped, as though he had only just realized what he'd implied.

"I mean, I'm sure he really is sick. It's not because he looks down on everyone."

What a performance. He might as well have announced that I only ate with people I considered my equals.

My classmates' suspicion hardened into contempt.

Our other two roommates, Brody Kessler and Nate Lindgren, snorted.

Brody didn't bother hiding his contempt.

"It's the twenty-first century. Everyone's equal! I'm not going to grovel to you like Trevor does. Come or don't come. Honestly, you'll just ruin my appetite if you show up."