The apartment was on the fourth floor, no elevator.

One bedroom, one living room. The furniture was old but functional. The window faced an inner alley with mediocre light, but the door lock was sturdy, and there were plenty of people coming and going downstairs.

Lucas and I glanced at each other.

We saw the same answer in each other's eyes.

This would work.

Compared to our current rental which was already compromised and could be targeted at any time, this place was much safer.

The only issue was the money.

After the landlord gave the price, I did a quick calculation in my head.

Including the deposit and simple moving costs, it would almost drain all my current savings.

Lucas was clearly calculating too, his brow furrowing slightly.

Seeing our silence, the landlord, seemingly afraid of losing the deal, added: "If you really want to rent it, I can take a hundred off, but no less."

I took a deep breath and was about to speak when Lucas beat me to it: "We'll take it."

I blinked in surprise and turned to look at him.

Lucas looked very calm: "Let's settle it first."

After leaving the building, I immediately asked him: "Where did you get the money?"

He was silent for two seconds before saying, "I’ve done some part-time jobs over the last two years and saved a bit."

"But you still have to pay for your study materials and mock exam fees—"

"I can find another way for those," he interrupted. "The move can't wait."

I looked at him, temporarily speechless.

Lucas was always like this.

At critical moments, he always prioritized shielding me from the most dangerous parts, leaving the question of how he would manage for the very end.

I said softly, "You can't always carry it alone."

"I'm not carrying it alone." He looked down at me. "Lynn, aren't you already carrying your share?"

"You're working harder than I imagined."

"So I can't just stand still and let you run forward by yourself."

The evening breeze blew into the alley, carrying a mixture of food and dust.

My nose felt prickly, and I turned my head away.

"We move on Sunday," I said.

"Okay."

But none of us expected that an accident would come first on Saturday night.

That night, while I was organizing the materials for the exchange project, a sudden pounding erupted at the door.

It wasn't a knock.

It was a battering.

The sound was urgent and heavy, as if someone wanted to tear the door down.

My heart jumped. My first thought was that Caspian or Sloane had found us.

Just as I stood up, Lucas, from across the hall, had already opened his door.

"Who is it?"

Standing outside were two middle-aged men and a woman with exquisite makeup.

The moment the woman saw Lucas, her gaze turned cold.

"You're Lucas?"

Lucas frowned. "Who are you?"

The woman didn't answer. Her gaze bypassed him and landed directly on me.

"You're Lynn, right?"

"Because of you two, my daughter has been refusing to eat and won't come home."

"Are people of your background naturally gifted at being clingy?"

I froze.

Sloane’s mother.

I had only seen her once from afar in my past life, and I knew she was the type of person who looked down on others and placed extreme importance on social class.

I just hadn't expected her to show up in person so early in this life.

Several lights flickered on in the corridor; clearly, the neighbors had been disturbed.

Sloane’s mother stood in the dim, narrow hallway in her high heels, looking as if she found the very air too dirty to breathe.

She stared at Lucas, her contempt blatant.

"I'm not here to reason with you today."

"Stay away from my daughter."

"Especially you, Lucas."

"A poor student who can't even afford tuition—what are you acting tough for? Do you think refusing her a few times makes you valuable?"

She finished and pulled a card from her bag.

"There’s two hundred thousand in here."

"Take it and get out of my daughter's sight."

The air went silent, painfully so.

I saw Lucas’s face turn pale bit by bit. It wasn't hesitation; it was an irrepressible sense of humiliation at having his dignity trampled in public.

My heart constricted.

The next second, Lucas’s voice shook with coldness.

"Take it back."

Sloane’s mother acted as if she had heard a joke.

"Not enough?"

"I've seen plenty of boys like you. You call it having backbone, but to put it bluntly, you're just waiting for a better price."

She glanced at me and added flippantly:

"As for your little childhood sweetheart, don't act all pure and noble either. Isn't your kind best at using sentiment and pity as leverage?"

My head buzzed.

The humiliation and anger accumulated from two lifetimes almost surged to my throat.

But Lucas was one step ahead of me, raising his hand to slap the card to the floor.

13

The bank card hit the concrete floor with a sharp, piercing sound.

The corridor light flickered once or twice, making the expressions on everyone's faces startlingly clear.

Sloane’s mother clearly hadn't expected Lucas to slap the card away, and her face darkened immediately.

"You dare?"

Lucas stood at the door, his shoulders and back straight, but his eyes were incredibly cold.

"Take your things and leave."

"And don't ever come here again."

He didn't speak loudly, and he didn't even raise his voice, but every word felt like it carried a sharp edge.

Sloane’s mother stared at him as if looking at a joke that didn't know its place.

"You really think quite highly of yourself."

"The fact that I was willing to come here and talk to you today was already giving you face."

She took a step forward in her high heels, her tone carrying a condescending sense of charity and contempt.

"Do you think I can't tell? People like you say you're unwilling, but in truth, you just want more."

"Money, a future, respectability—aren't these all things my daughter could give you on a whim?"

"You're stubborn now because life hasn't worn you down enough yet."

"Wait until later—"

"That's enough."

I heard my own voice.

It wasn't loud, but it was remarkably steady.

Everyone’s gaze shifted to me.

I walked out of my room and stood beside Lucas. I glanced down at the card on the floor, then looked up at Sloane’s mother.

"Mrs. Sterling, I assume?"

Likely not expecting me to jump into the conversation, a flash of impatience crossed her eyes. "Who do you think you are to interrupt?"

My heart still stung from such naked disdain.

But compared to my past life, this little pain was nothing.

I looked at her calmly. "Who I am isn't important. What is important is that you brought people to block the place where we live to threaten and bribe an underage student. If this were to get out, the ones losing face wouldn't be us."

The corridor went silent for a moment.

Sloane’s mother’s face changed slightly, followed by a cold sneer. "Threaten and bribe? Little girl, don't use such ugly words."

"I am helping you realize the reality of the situation."

"The reality is," I interrupted softly, "not everyone is willing to bow down just because you have money."

Sloane’s mother stared at me, her eyes clearly becoming colder.

"You certainly have a sharp tongue."

"No wonder you've stirred my daughter up like that."

I didn't take the bait, only continuing: "If Sloane really can't eat or come home because of Lucas, the place you should take her isn't here to see us, but to see a doctor."

"Liking someone isn't about trapping them or using money to humiliate them."

"It seems all your family has taught her is 'if you want it, you must have it.'"

The moment those words were out, even the sound of breathing seemed to stop in the corridor.

Lucas glanced at me, his brow deeply furrowed as if worried I was pushing things too far.

But I didn't want to retreat anymore.

The me of my past life had retreated for too long, until I almost looked down on myself.

And now, I just wanted to say these words upright and honest.

Not just to win a verbal spat.

But to let them know—

Their so-called superiority and their so-called control over everything could not make everyone so fearful that they lost their voice.

Sloane’s mother's face fell completely.

The two men behind her—likely drivers or bodyguards—looked at each other, not daring to intervene.

After a long silence, she squeezed a sentence through her teeth: "You really don't know what's good for you."

I smiled slightly.

"Perhaps that's because we don't need your 'goodness.'"

"And we certainly don't need your money."

Someone at the corridor entrance gasped.

Clearly, the number of neighbors watching was growing.

Sloane’s mother likely realized that continuing the scene would only make things uglier. After her expression shifted several times, she eventually leaned down and picked up the bank card.