Chapter 5
Andrea
I was curious enough to get a PI to check out Tyler and Ryan.
They... something just didn't add up.
Dave's office reeked of stale coffee. The venetian blinds cast prison-bar shadows across his cluttered desk.
"Andrea, you're not gonna like what you hear. But you said you wanted the truth."
I settled into the cracked leather chair, crossing my legs. "Hit me with it, Dave. I can handle whatever Tyler's been up to."
Dave slid a box of recording equipment across the desk. His weathered face looked grim.
"This goes deeper than cheating, sweetheart. Way deeper."
The first recording made my blood freeze.
Tyler's voice crackled through the speakers: "She's always in control, always reminding me what I owe her. Sometimes I feel like a fucking pet."
'A pet?' I gripped the chair arms until my knuckles went white.
Then Ryan's voice joined in: "Andrea's been the golden child since birth. Everyone revolves around her. Sometimes I wish she'd just... disappear."
I laughed. Cold, sharp, dangerous.
"Disappear? Be careful what you wish for, my dear brother."
"There's more." Dave pulled up his laptop. "Look at this surveillance footage from the training center."
The screen showed Tyler and Ryan in the empty gym at midnight. Ryan's hand lingered on Tyler's shoulder. Too long. Too intimate. Tyler leaned into the touch like a lover.
"Holy shit. Are they...?"
"I'm not making assumptions, but that's not normal brother-sister's boyfriend behavior."
I watched Tyler's fingers trace Ryan's forearm. The way they stood close enough to share breath. The way Ryan's eyes never left Tyler's face.
"Well, well, well. This just got very interesting."
My mind raced. Eight years. Eight fucking years I'd been living a lie.
'Tyler never loved me. He was using me to hide this... whatever this is.'
Miguel poured wine while I paced my penthouse like a caged predator. The city lights blurred past the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Miguel, I think we're dealing with something much bigger than I thought."
"What do you mean?"
"Tyler and Ryan aren't just protecting Savannah. They're protecting each other from their dirty little secret."
Miguel set down his glass, studying my face. "Andrea, be careful. If you're right about this..."
"If I'm right, then everything makes sense. The betrayal, the lies, everything."
I grabbed the surveillance photos, spreading them across the marble counter. Tyler's hand on Ryan's chest. Ryan's lips close to Tyler's ear.
'Last time, I died thinking Tyler loved someone else. Turns out, he might not love women at all.'
The memory hit like a slap. All those nights Tyler seemed distant. All those excuses about being tired. All those times he avoided my touch.
"So what's the plan?"
I smiled, feeling the familiar rush of control returning.
"We hit Savannah first. Break their weakest link, and the whole thing falls apart."
Miguel leaned against the counter. "What did you have in mind?"
"Chemical warfare. Psychological torture. Everything that bitch did to me, multiplied by ten."
The next evening, I coordinated from my penthouse like a general commanding troops.
"Make sure it's just enough to fuck up her skin, not kill her. I want her to suffer slowly."
My contact at the university confirmed the plan. "Got it. The allergic reaction should start tomorrow morning."
'Last time, this bitch put itching powder in my leotards before nationals. Made me scratch until I bled. Now it's your turn.'
The second call was even sweeter.
"Doctor Peterson, remember our arrangement. I need you to help Savannah... in a special way."
Dr. Peterson's voice was smooth, professional, bought. "What specific doubts do you want me to plant?"
"Make her believe she's a fraud. Because she is."
Through my penthouse windows, I could see the university campus glowing in the distance. Somewhere down there, Savannah was applying the tampered face cream.
'Sleep tight, sweetheart. Tomorrow's gonna be hell.'
I arrived at the campus psychology center like I belonged there. Dr. Peterson nodded as I passed his office.
Later, in the main dining hall, I spotted my target immediately.
Savannah sat alone, hood pulled up, picking at her salad. Red welts covered her jawline. Her usual confidence was gone.
'Perfect.'
Her roommate slid into the opposite seat. "Girl, you look terrible. You sure you're not using some cheap skincare?"
Savannah's voice cracked. "I don't understand what's happening to my face."
I approached their table, all fake concern and hidden venom.
"Savannah! Oh my God, what happened?"
She looked up, eyes puffy and desperate. "Andrea... I think I'm having an allergic reaction to something."
"That's awful! Right before the big competition too." I sat down uninvited. "Speaking of which, I've been wondering about your eligibility status."
The blood drained from her already pale face. "What do you mean?"
"Just seems weird that a transfer student gets immediate competition status. Usually takes a full semester to process, right?"
"Everything was done by the book!"
Her voice carried across the dining hall. Students at nearby tables started listening.
"Was it? Because I'm thinking of asking the NCAA to double-check that book."
Whispers rippled through the crowd. "She has a point..." "That is weird timing..."
Savannah's hands shook as she gathered her things.
'Watch me, bitch.'