Semua Bab She Stole My Life: lost Everything to her fake innocence.: Bab 1 - Bab 6

If you looked at my life through a lens, you’d probably have to squint. It was bright, polished, and according to my guidance counselor, Mrs. Gable, "trajectory perfect." My name is Christabel, but depending on which corner of St. Jude’s Preparatory you find yourself in, I’m known by a few variations. To the faculty, I’m the reliable "Christa," the girl whose GPA has more decimal points than a scientific calculator. To my four best friends, I’m "Star"—the one who keeps the constellation aligned. To the boys on the soccer team, I’m "Chrisy," and to my parents, I’m their "Bel," the golden child who never once gave them a reason to worry. At seventeen, I wasn't just living my life; I was curating it. I was a high school senior with a trajectory so straight it could have been drawn with a laser level. I leaned against the brick wall of the senior courtyard, the autumn sun warming my skin, and watched my world spin exactly the way I’d programmed it to. "Star! Seriously, if you don't l

I didn’t say a word the next morning. My heart felt like a bruised peach—soft, aching, and ruined. I didn't even look toward the kitchen where the smell of pancakes was wafting through the air. Usually, breakfast was our "family strategy" time, where we’d talk about my day and my dad would crack jokes. Not today. I was halfway to the front door when my mom intercepted me. She looked tired, but her eyes were still flashed with that "disappointed" look that made me want to scream. "Christabel, wait," she said, holding a paper bag with my lunch. "You didn't even say good morning. And where is your hug for Ginger?" "I'm not hungry, Mom. And I’m not hugging her," I said, my voice flat. "Can I have my phone back? I need it for my school projects." "You’ll get it back when you show me you can be the kind, welcoming girl I raised," Mom sighed. "You weren't trained to be unkind to strangers, especially family. Now, stay put. I’m driving you both today. I want to make sure Ginger gets regis

I didn’t go back to class. I didn’t go home. I went to the only place that still felt like solid ground in a world made of quicksand. When I burst into the garage, Declan didn’t even ask why I was there. He just saw my face, red-rimmed eyes, shaking hands, and the hollow look of someone who had just watched their future get set on fire, and handed me a clean rag to wipe my face. "She took the Yale letter, Declan," I whispered, sitting on the edge of a workbench. "She played the 'poor orphan' card, and the Principal handed her my life on a silver platter. My friends testified against me. Sean hates me. I’m officially the school pariah." Declan stopped what he was doing. He didn't offer me pity, which was exactly why I needed him. Pity was for victims; I wanted to be a victor. "She has the upper hand now," I continued, my voice gaining a sharp, dangerous edge. "She’s played every card in her hand—the grieving cousin, the victim, the scholar, the flirt. She’s exhausted her deck. But