Chapter 2

The next day, I went to school to finalize some administrative paperwork and register for the upcoming SAT.

As I walked down the crowded hallway, I ran straight into Dante and Bianca.

Bianca’s slender arm was wrapped tightly around Dante’s. The moment she spotted me, she gasped softly and shrank back, hiding herself behind his broad shoulders.

“Dan, I'm scared...” she whimpered, her voice trembling.

Dante immediately stepped forward, blocking my path. His brow furrowed into a deep, defensive scowl. “Siena, don't go scaring her.”

I didn't look at him. I simply tried to step to the side and walk past.

Before I could take a step, his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist with bruising force. “What is wrong with your attitude? Bianca didn't do anything to hurt you. She had no choice in this! Do you really have to make a scene and make everyone look bad?”

I ripped my arm out of his grasp with all the strength I had. “Get out of my way.”

My voice was sharp and cold, instantly drawing the attention of the students lingering by their lockers.

A tear slipped down Bianca’s cheek, catching the fluorescent light of the hallway. “Siena, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. If you're still angry... you can hit me. Just please don't be mad at Dan.”

She took a fragile step toward me, bowing her head as if waiting for a blow, presenting herself as the ultimate victim.

Dante’s eyes flared with anger. He snatched her back into his embrace, glaring down at me. “Look at what you're doing to her! Siena, I never realized your heart could be this venomous.”

Muffled whispers began to ripple through the surrounding crowd.

“Is that her? The girl from the dirty auto repair shop?”

“Yeah, I heard the Congressman originally promised her the recommendation, but Bianca got it instead.”

“Serves her right. Look at her face—it's like a block of ice. Who would ever like a girl like that?”

“Bianca is so much sweeter. If I were Dante, I'd help Bianca too.”

I tuned out the murmurs, keeping my eyes locked on Dante’s cold, dark gaze. “I'll say it one last time. Get out of my way.”

Instead of moving, Dante sneered and shoved me hard.

“You're going to apologize to Bianca right now!”

The sudden force caught me off guard. I stumbled backward, my shoulders slamming violently against the hard brick wall of the hallway.

A sharp, throbbing ache flared across my back.

I slowly lifted my head, staring at him.

Dante stared back, his eyes completely empty of the warmth he used to reserve only for me.

We had grown up together, sharing every secret, every scrap of food we could find.

When he was twelve, his family had exiled him from the glittering high society of Manhattan to this run-down, impoverished town in New Jersey, and on his very first day, he had gotten into a brutal fight with the local street kids.

I was the one who had rushed in, brandishing a heavy metal wrench, scaring off the older bullies who were beating him bloody.

From that day on, he became my shadow, following me everywhere.

He used to complain about the grease and oil covering my clothes, but whenever other kids tried to mock me because I couldn't hear them, he would fly into a rage and beat them until they begged for mercy.

I remember him wiping the dirt from his knuckles, looking at me with fierce determination: “Siena, from now on, I’m the one protecting you.”

“Siena, even if your right ear can't hear a thing, I'll be your other ear for the rest of our lives.”

“As soon as we turn eighteen, we're getting the hell out of this dump.”

Now, he was the one shoving me against a wall, all for another girl.

Bianca buried her face in his chest, sobbing loudly. “Dan, please, let's just go. It's all my fault anyway.”

Dante stroked her hair, his voice softening into a gentle, soothing tone I hadn't heard in months. “It has nothing to do with you.”

He shot me one last warning look, his eyes cold and menacing.

Then, he guided her down the hallway, keeping his arm securely around her waist.

I stood against the brick wall for a long time before I managed to straighten my spine and force my legs to move forward.

On my way to the guidance counselor's office, I passed the large bulletin board in the main lobby. The school had already posted the photos of the students who had secured early Ivy League admissions.

Bianca’s portrait was placed right in the dead center.

Beneath her smiling photo, a neat paragraph detailed her achievements: “An outstanding student of exceptional character and academic merit, rising above poverty through sheer resilience.”

A dry, mocking chuckle slipped from my throat.

The memory of returning to the repair shop on the night of her celebration flashed vividly in my mind.

My father had been waiting for me, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey, his eyes wild and bloodshot.

“Where's the cash?” he had demanded, stepping into my path.

When I tried to ignore him, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head against the wooden partition.

“I'm talking to you, you deaf bitch! Are you completely deaf now?”

My right ear was completely useless, and his roaring voice made my left ear ring with a painful, high-pitched buzz.

“I don't have any money,” I choked out.

“No money? I heard that rich boy Dante has plenty of it! You follow him around like a stray dog, so why haven't you begged him for some?”

He backhanded me across the face, the force of the blow sending me crashing to the floor. “You're hiding it from me, aren't you? Trying to lie to your own father!”

He began tearing through my pockets, his dirty hands ripping at my jacket.

I gathered my strength and shoved him away.

Infuriated, he kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me curling into a tight ball on the cold concrete.

“You little piece of trash!” he spat, towering over me. “I should have left you to rot. Just like your dead mother—nothing but a worthless, cheap bitch!”

He reached for a heavy iron tire iron, raising it high above his head. Just as he was about to swing it down, the door flew open, and Dante burst into the garage.

Dante had kicked my father across the room with terrifying fury, rushing to pull me up from the floor and frantically checking my face for injuries.

“Where does it hurt? Where did he hit you?”

I could only shake my head, my body trembling uncontrollably.

Dante had stripped off his expensive jacket and wrapped it snugly around my shoulders. “Don't cry, Siena. I'm here. Nobody is going to hurt you again.”

That night, he didn't return to his family's mansion. He stayed in the dusty shop, sleeping on our lumpy, broken-down sofa just to keep watch over me.

The next morning, he called in his family's lawyers and had my father thrown into a holding cell.

He had looked me in the eyes and said, “Siena, I'll take care of you from now on.”

Back then, I truly believed he would be my harbor for the rest of my life.

I didn't realize that promises of protection could dissolve so easily, leaving nothing but a bitter aftertaste.