CADEN

It's Monday morning, and I've risen early, as usual, mainly to avoid any chance of encountering the girl I've been avoiding for the past couple of days.

After slipping into a clean blue tee shirt and matching it with the joggers I wore to bed, I hear footsteps approaching Mad's door.

I decide to grab some coffee on campus; right now, I can't bring myself to face her.

I rush down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator, fumbling for my car key in my pocket before sliding into the safety of my vehicle.

As I prepare to drive, a relieved sigh escapes me.

Yesterday, in my efforts to avoid Mad, I ended up missing a video call with Dad and Martha.

Not that I'm a significant presence during those calls anyway. Most of the time, I sit and listen to Dad and Martha praise their favorite child. They rarely engage me in conversation unless I interject, at which point Dad redirects his attention to me, threatening to cut me off and disown me, boasting about how he managed when he had nothing.

It brings to mind the job interview I had a few weeks ago, shortly after Dad appeared on TV, proclaiming his intention to cut me off because of Mad. Yeah, right. It's not like I've harmed her or anything. I think he exaggerates to impress his new wife.

What he doesn't know is that I'm here to protect his daughter. I know it sounds foolish, but I followed Mad here and gave up my aviation school admission because the last time I was separated from my sister, she ended up dead on the street.

If it could happen to a ten-year-old, I can't fathom what might befall a beautiful young woman living on her own.

I've consistently picked on Mad, though it's not as harmful as it may seem. I just needed to make her believe that my actions stemmed from something other than genuine concern for her well-being. In truth, I care for her; I've been following her around for four years. Despite the turmoil Mad's presence has caused in my family, I still consider her my stepsister and my responsibility.

Even now, as I act like an asshole towards her, I don't intend to inflict harm or use hurtful words. After all, she gave me her virginity. Treating her poorly is the last thing I should be doing. But I've found that acting like a jerk to Mad is the only way to shield myself from whatever repercussions may come, given that I know she can't be okay with what happened between us. I'm well aware that she probably despises me more than anyone else after that night.

This is why I've always maintained a barrier between us, why I've been consistently rude, tossing disrespectful remarks her way. It's been a way to deceive both her and myself. I've hated her.

Don't misunderstand me-I still believe I hate her, even though I find it hard to locate that emotion within me. It's complicated; I'm complicated.

Ever since she walked into my home, I've realized I needed saving. My emotions have become a maelstrom, preventing me from settling on a single feeling. Before Cara's death, my desires were clear, but now everything has changed; I lost everything. What I want no longer seems to matter.

It's not that I'm content with what transpired between us, either. I understand that Mad and I should never have crossed that line, though I can't say I regret what happened that night. Nonetheless, there are restrictions to what we can be. She's my sister, my stepsister, and it's all so complicated.

I should be protecting her, not taking from her, but that's exactly what I did. I committed the unforgivable.

This brings me back to the factors that led to this outcome.

KANE ESTEBAN.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel, and a determination to make him suffer overtakes me; I will ensure he feels my pain for the rest of his life.

As I start the engine and my car roars to life, I glance through the windshield, meeting the gaze of swollen blue eyes from the fourth floor, staring down at me. She stands there, gazing. It churns bile in my throat.

Daisy Esteban will pay.

By the time I reach school, it's still early. I drive around the premises before grabbing a black coffee from a café near the building where my first class is held.

Even in the auditorium, where I eventually arrive, the place is sparsely populated. Yet the few girls present can't help but giggle and smile like children.

I shake my head, ignoring their attention, and head down to the front row-my usual spot-and take a seat.

I lack any notebooks or materials that psychology students typically have. Unless a messed-up life counts as a requirement; in that case, I'm well-equipped.

As the class gradually fills, my eyes scan every student who enters. That's when I wish I could disappear, for Allie strolls in with an unmistakably suggestive 'I'm ready for you' smile plastered on her heavily made-up face.

"Hey, babe," she chirps, her high-pitched voice forcing me to reach for my headphones mentally.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a class?" I manage, struggling to suppress a groan.

"I have someone taking notes for me. I wanted to check on you," she boasts proudly, as though it's a completely normal thing. It's not; attending classes is a basic requirement. Even the simplest-minded should know that.

"It's unnecessary, Amara," I tell her, hoping she'll take the hint and leave me alone. But instead, she settles herself on the wrong side of the row.

"I chose to. And my name is Avery," she emphasizes the last words, her tone firm.

I apologize for my difficulty in remembering names. I roll my eyes mentally.

"Alright, Avery, you should get going," I asserted simply.

"What? Appreciate I'm here, Caden. I'll keep you company for this class," she teased, her long nails tracing my pulse slowly on my neck. Damn, I didn't want her doing that.

"That's Mad's seat," I clarified, just in case she had forgotten.

"We can have her move to the next one."

What? She must be overly optimistic, or maybe she thinks too highly of herself.

"It's for Aiden, or whoever. You have to leave," I hurriedly spoke, avoiding her odd twitching eyes.

"Looks like your sister won't be sitting here today, neither will her friend." When I glanced at her, an evil smile was etched on her face, and her gaze was focused on the back row.

I cursed my instincts for making me jerk my head and turn behind me, following her line of sight.

Avery was right-Mad had taken seats behind me, with her female friend sitting beside her.

As they talked, Mad's glistening eyes were on me, much like they had been earlier from the window. There's something familiar in her gaze-pain, grief, regret, fatigue, and mostly sadness.

I used to have that same gaze before my mom left. I could easily tell she was hurting.

What have I done?

I swallowed hard and recomposed myself at the front of the class. My mind wandered into painful memories, replaying how everything had shifted, how much Kane Esteban had screwed me. The English language became a blur, and I couldn't grasp anything from the lecture by the time the class ended.

Abruptly, I straightened, and a notebook that wasn't mine slipped from my lap.

Frowning in confusion, I knelt down to retrieve the book, but my fingers brushed against the hand of a pale-skinned girl. She looked at me with wide hazel eyes, faking innocence.

Does she think this is some kind of high school meet-cute?

Gross!

I jerked up and blinked at the strange girl.

"You can keep it," she offered, holding out the notebook as she stood up, still giving off an unsettling impression.

"Move," Anne barked, and the girl backed up, startled by the harsh command.

Shaking my head at the bizarre encounter, reality hit me hard.

I pivoted on my heels and began pushing through the crowd, searching for one specific person: the enchanting petite girl with long brown hair and captivating eyes. But there was no sign of her or her expensive Aston Martin in the parking lot.

Damn it! I let her slip away.

I kicked the curb in frustration and let out an annoyed sigh.

There's always going to be a next time; she might have escaped now, but not forever. After all, she's a psychology major, and we have almost the same classes.

The rest of the two classes went on, and I didn't catch a glimpse of her.

It started to worry me; I was desperate to have her in my grasp. Did she skip school today? Is she running back to Asia?

I'd be worried if I were her, because she has no idea what's coming for her.

There's no satisfaction in my life like watching her bleed, just as Cara did.

As long as I breathe, I must avenge my sister.