Maya woke up to a strange silence. The kind that didn't feel peaceful—it felt off. She blinked against the early light spilling through her grandmother's curtains and sat up slowly, her body sore, her mind still buzzing with the chaos of the night before.
Then she heard it. Voices downstairs.
She didn't even need to guess.
She dragged herself out of bed, not bothering to fix her hair or change out of her oversized tee. If her father was here to interrogate her like some FBI agent, she might as well look the part of the "rebellious teen" they'd all decided she was.
As she descended the stairs, the tension became a living thing. Her father's voice—firm, loud, condescending—bounced off the walls. And Jackie's? Sweet, fake, trying too hard.
When Maya walked into the living room, she didn't flinch. Her father was standing like a judge in a courtroom, arms folded. Jackie sat smugly on the edge of the couch, like she already knew she'd won.
"Well, look who decided to join us," her father said flatly.
Maya crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, unimpressed. "Wow. Early morning ambush at grandma's house. Classy."
"Cut the crap," he snapped. "I want the truth. Now."
"About what?" she said, eyebrows raised. "You finally figured out how to be a father and wanted to announce it?"
"Don't play dumb," he growled. "You were seen yesterday. With a man. A grown man. Who the hell is he?"
Maya tilted her head, amused. "Damn. One little walk and I've got the whole family shaking. Relax. Maybe I just like older men."
His face turned red. "This isn't funny. You're a child."
"Then stop treating me like I'm an adult when it's convenient for you."
Jackie stood up suddenly, face tight. "You know exactly what you're doing. Don't act like this is all innocent."
Maya glanced at her. "Oh look, Barbie speaks."
Jackie pulled her phone from her pocket and shoved it toward Maya's face. "Explain this."
Maya stared at the blurry photo. Her in the black wig. Vic's father. The image wasn't crystal clear, but it was damning.
She barely blinked.
"Oh," she said, biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh. "Is that supposed to be me? That girl's got black hair. Nice try, though."
Jackie's jaw dropped. "You think this is a game?"
"I think," Maya said sweetly, stepping closer, "that if you're gonna frame someone, at least make sure the lighting is good. And maybe—just maybe—don't use a picture that looks like it was taken on a toaster."
"Maya," her father warned, "you better stop this right now. I am not in the mood."
"Oh no, Daddy's mad," she said mockingly. "You gonna take away my phone? Ground me? Haven't done that since I was what—ten?"
"You're spiraling," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "And you're dragging this family with you."
Maya laughed—full and loud, no remorse. "Family? That's rich, coming from the man who replaced me like an iPhone upgrade."
"Don't talk about Jackie like that."
"Why not?" Maya snapped. "She's your favorite now, right? The daughter you actually wanted."
Jackie scoffed, but Maya didn't even glance at her.
"You want honesty?" Maya said, stepping right into her father's face. "Maybe I do have daddy issues. You made them."
He opened his mouth, but she was already walking toward the door.
"You two can go now," she said over her shoulder, casually unlocking it. "Get the hell out. You and your beloved fake daughter."
Jackie's mouth opened like she wanted to fight back, but her father grabbed her arm and pulled her away. He didn't look back.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Maya stood there, heart thudding, chest rising and falling fast. But she wasn't broken. Not even close. She'd handled it exactly how she was supposed to—cold, clean, and with that perfect dose of sarcasm.
School felt like a different battlefield.
Eddie didn't even look at her. He passed by like she was invisible, like she hadn't once been the center of his storm.
And Jackie?
Jackie was stuck to him like gum on a shoe. Laughing too hard at everything he said. Touching his arm. Leaning way too close.
"Is she serious right now?" Maya muttered under her breath, watching Jackie drape herself on him like a damn coat.
Sally and Luna were flanking her, both ready for war.
"She keeps looking over here," Luna hissed. "Like she wants to see you crack."
Maya's jaw clenched. "She's not worth it."
But then Jackie leaned in and whispered something in Eddie's ear—something that made him smirk, cold and slow—and Maya snapped.
She took a step forward, fists curling, murder in her eyes.
Sally grabbed one arm. Luna grabbed the other.
"Not here," Sally said firmly. "Not like this."
Maya stared Jackie down with a venomous glare. "She wants me to swing first."
"Exactly," Luna said. "So we do it our way."
Maya took a breath. Then smiled.
"You're right," she said. "Let's give them something better."
By lunchtime, their plan was already in motion.
Maya walked into class like she owned it. Every guy got a wink. Every smile was dipped in sugar and laced with poison. She touched arms when she passed, laughed just loud enough to turn heads.
She wasn't desperate. She was dangerous.
And Vic saw it. He was watching. Burning.
It took exactly ten minutes before he snapped.
He grabbed her wrist in the hallway and dragged her around the corner, slamming her into the lockers—not hard, but hard enough to make a point.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.
Maya just raised an eyebrow. "Flirting. Duh. Jealous?"
"You're gonna regret this."
She tilted her head. "So dramatic. Chill, Vic. It's just high school. We can talk about it over coffee."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Coffee," she repeated, voice calm. "Later. You'll want to see what I've got."
They met at a dingy café just outside of school grounds. She sat across from him, all calm confidence.
Then she slid the phone across the table.
Vic looked down—and froze.
It was the photo. His father. With her.
"What the hell is this," he whispered.
Maya sipped her drink. "Insurance."
"Delete it."
She leaned in, her voice velvet. "What if your mom gets it instead?"
Vic's hand trembled. He snatched the phone and slammed it to the ground, screen cracking on impact.
Maya didn't even blink. "Cute tantrum."
"Delete your mother's photos," she said coolly.
"No."
"I have other copies."
He stared at her. Then slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and deleted them—every picture, every memory.
When he was done, he looked up, defeated.
Maya stood, grabbed her bag, and leaned close enough for him to smell her perfume.
Then she slapped him across the face—hard, clean, echoing.
"Checkmate, bitch."
And just like that, she walked out.