The afternoon sun was brilliantly warm as Emily cruised down the street on her motorcycle. Her helmet was securely fastened, but beneath it, she was smiling from ear to ear, occasionally shouting at the top of her lungs just to feel the rush of the wind. As she passed the campus basketball courts, she lifted her visor to watch a group of college boys running drills. "Just wait, okay?" she whispered to herself, a genuine thrill in her voice. "I'll be a college student starting next month, too." She pulled over, hopped off the bike, and carefully pulled out the pizzas they had ordered. "Hey, seniors! Your pizza delivery is here!" she called out cheerfully. Once the boxes were handed off, she was back on the road, heading toward her next drop-off. That was when she crossed paths with Kyle Jeffery. He was a wealthy young man from a powerful family, though Emily didn't know that yet. All she saw was a guy who had just climbed off a sleek motorcycle, his helmet still hiding his face. He was walking steadily toward a group of men who were tossing around a woman's purse they had just forcefully taken. "Give it back," he said. His voice wasn't a shout; it was just deadly calm. One of the guys sneered and threw the purse onto the pavement like a piece of trash, signaling the others to rush him. It took Jeffery all of a minute to put them on the ground, scoop up the purse, and ride off like nothing had happened. Watching from a distance, Emily felt a fierce wave of indignation. Without knowing the context, she completely misread the situation, mistaking him for a violent troublemaker who went around beating people up in broad daylight. "Just look at that... how dare you commit a crime right in front of me?" she muttered angrily, her grip tightening on the handlebars. "Don't worry, I will get you. You're dead meat." She revved her engine and chased after him down the busy road, weaving through the afternoon traffic, yelling the whole way. She was closing the gap when, suddenly, her bike gave a pathetic sputter and began to stall. "Please, just a little further!" she begged, smacking the tank as if it might listen. "That little brat, I need to catch him... Noooooo!" The bike finally rolled to a dead stop right beside a mini love garden filled with beautiful trees and colorful flowers. Breathing heavily, she peered over her handlebars and spotted him in the distance, talking to a woman. "Gosh... so this is where he is. Finally," she breathed. Jeffery handed the purse back to its owner, who beamed with gratitude. "Here is your purse," he said. "Thank you so much!" The woman replied warmly, her eyes instantly locked onto him. "Please allow me to buy you a coffee, at least. Can I have your number? I'd really like to thank you properly." While she was still talking, Jeffery clicked his visor down, started his engine, and rode off without a single word. Emily slowly rolled her bike toward the dazed woman, who was still staring smitten in the direction he had disappeared. "Was there something wrong with that guy who just left?" Emily asked bluntly. The woman sighed happily. "I felt like I just met my knight in shining armor." She hugged the purse to her chest. "He even got my bag back for me." "Oh! So that bag was yours?" Emily blinked, her voice tinged with surprise. "This bag is like my glass slipper," the lady responded. She checked her wristwatch, suddenly gasped as she realized she was late for work, and ran off immediately. "Glass slippers, my foot..." Emily sneered, rolling her eyes. "But it seems like there are still some decent guys out there." Just then, her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket. "Oh! Yes, boss? I just finished my delivery... I'm on my way back now." Emily flipped the fuel switch to her reserve tank and kicked the starter until the engine sputtered back to life. "I'll be there really soon!" Later that evening, after finishing her shift, Emily stopped at the convenience store. She approached the store clerk, Mr. Dudu, holding a shopping basket and offering a hopeful smile, praying he'd let her take the soon-to-expire items home. "Gosh! You're a pathetic girl," Mr. Dudu muttered, looking irritated. "What? They don't expire until the end of today. You are just going to throw these out anyway," Emily countered, completely unbothered. She opened a paper bag and began transferring the items from the basket into it. "Besides, I will eat it all!" she said joyfully. "Whatever, just take it all," he yelled, waving a hand to dismiss her. "You're really the best, sir! An absolute angel!" she praised him, flashing a bright grin. "Seriously?" he asked, deadpan. "Goodbye!" She waved her hand as she left. Late that night, the city was dazzling. Streetlights hummed, and the windows of towers, cathedrals, and small homes shone gold in the dark. Emily let herself into the house and called out a greeting no one answered. In the living room, her stepmother, Darus, and her stepsister, Yara, were curled up on the couch, happily enjoying a large bowl of crispy fried chicken. The good kind, crispy and golden, the kind Emily had been craving for weeks. She swallowed hard and looked away. "I'm home," she repeated softly, kicking off her worn sneakers, already halfway to her room. "Hey! Did you do the dishes properly?" Darus called out, turning to look at her with disdain. "Or are you telling us you hate doing chores?" "I'm sorry. I'll scrub them really well next time," Emily apologized. "Also, did you pick up the clothes I left at the dry cleaner?" Yara asked, her mouth full of chicken. Emily froze. "Oh... no, I totally forgot. I'll pick them up first thing tomorrow, sister. I'm so sorry." "Gosh! Again, with the sister thing! It pisses me off!" Yara yelled, rolling her eyes. "You don't know how to do anything right. I wonder where you get it from." "Her dead mom, obviously," Darus said, not even looking up. The words landed like a slap. Emily's throat tightened; she looked down, blinked hard, and walked the rest of the way to her room without a word. She sat on the edge of her narrow bed and pulled out a crumpled list of part-time jobs, then unwrapped an expired sausage roll from the store and quietly ate it for dinner. "I'll call this one up next week," she murmured to herself, scanning the crumpled paper. "Okay... I'll get my paycheck from the convenience store in three days, and I'll be getting my pay from the restaurant in a week." She pulled out her bank book and opened it, and something in her eyes brightened at the numbers there. "I'm getting close," she whispered. "You can do this, Emily!"

The next day, three cars tore down the highway toward the same address: Kyle Huxley, behind the wheel of a screaming yellow supercar; Kyle Skyler, the nation's reigning pop idol, drove his favorite white coupe; and Kyle Jeffery drove a sleek, understated black one. All three had gotten the same text from Secretary York that morning: "There's an important announcement about your grandfather that will be made at 6:00 p.m. sharp. If you don't come, I will freeze all your credit cards." Jeffery's message had one extra line, meant for him alone: "If you don't come, I will keep the circumstances regarding your birth a secret forever." All staff were dressed in sharp formal suits and stood at the front of "Jupiter's suite" waiting for the arrival of the Chairman's heirs. Finally, the grandsons arrived together; they tossed their keys to the valets without a glance, and walked in together. The automated glass doors slid open on their own. Jeffery led the way, flanked by Huxley on his right and Skyler on his left. As they strode through the soaring marble reception hall, people from all different walks of life, both great and small, were staring at the powerful trio. They found Secretary York waiting in the private sitting room reserved for family matters, standing by the window with his hands folded behind his back. "Is Grandpa dying?" Huxley demanded without greeting him. "Did he collapse?" Skyler asked. "Where is Grandpa?" Jeffery added. Three questions, practically on top of each other. Instead of answering, Secretary York handed them an invitation card. The trio stared at it and were surprised; their expressions turned from concern to pure disbelief. "You froze my cards for this?" Huxley stared at the card as if it might turn into something else. "I canceled my entire day for this!" Skyler snapped. "It was the only way I'd get all three of you in one room," York responded calmly. Jeffery let out a dry, humorless laugh and questioned him. "Was it you who contacted us? Are you messing with us right now?" "Grandpa's wedding invitation? Like, are you for real?" Huxley demanded. "I'm not going," Jeffery stated flatly. "Honestly, this isn't right," Skyler muttered, tossing the card aside. Huxley rounded on Jeffery. "Hey, you're not the only one who doesn't want to go!" "All three of you must attend the wedding as a family," York shouted with a very serious face. "Family!!!" The three cousins chorused. "First, there was a cousin who popped out of nowhere, and now we are getting a new grandma who is my mom's age?" Huxley snapped. "That's why I said I won't go," Jeffery answered. "Are you two fighting again?" Skyler asked wearily. Enraged, Jeffery crumpled his invitation card to the floor with anger and turned to leave. "Kyle Jeffery!" York's voice cracked like a whip. "Don't call me that. I'm Han Jeffery." He hissed and walked away. "No, you are Kyle Jeffery." York insisted, his gaze unwavering. Skyler's phone buzzed. He held it up for York to see. "I'm out too. My schedule's packed." He was already halfway to the door. Now the room was left with York and Huxley. Huxley smiled as he looked at his grandfather's wedding picture and smirked. "You have to come," York told him. "Of course, it's Grandpa's fifth wedding after all. I'll even bring a gift." He stood up and walked away. York was left alone. He stood there; his mind drifted back to the rainy afternoon he had first brought Jeffery to the Jupiter Mansion, after discovering he was Chairman Kyle's illegitimate grandson. "This is where the chairman's other grandchildren live," as they arrived at the mansion. York told the reserved young Jeffery. "We've prepared a room for you over there. Go get some rest: The chairman will soon be here for dinner..." While he was still talking to Jeffery, his phone rang; then he took an excuse to answer the call. Left alone, Jeffery wandered and started admiring the beautiful view of the house until he bumped into Huxley. "Who are you?" Huxley had asked "And who the hell are you?" Jeffery shot back. "You don't know who I am?" Huxley asked, looking genuinely surprised. "Are you new here or something?" He smiled. "Oh! You are the new cleaning guy. Sure. I'll let you off the hook since it's your first time. You can go." Jeffery had chuckled. "What!" At this point, his hand was already curling into a fist when York rounded the corner. "KYLE JEFFERY!" he shouted his name at that instant. Back in the present, the memory faded. York remembered the two boys sitting across from each other that day. "You two...are cousins," York had explained gently. "What?!" Huxley had shouted. "Mr. Kyle Jeffery is the son of your Uncle, the late Kyle Stephen." "How could Uncle Stephen have a son when he never got married? That's just ridiculous." Huxley studied Jeffery's face like he might find the lie in it. "Did you actually check this thoroughly?" he asked York. "Hey! What kind of prestigious family is your mother from?" He fired at Jeffery next. "I mean, what kind of great family are you from that they kept you hidden all this time? Did you live abroad this whole time? What school did you attend?" "I lived in an orphanage after my mom passed away ten years ago," Jeffery answered coolly. "And I dropped out of high school." Huxley had stared at him for a beat before bursting into hysterical laughter, and Jeffery had no idea why. "Gosh! I was worried for nothing. But then again, is it Grandpa's hobby to go find himself new grandsons or something? It wasn't even that long ago that he took that busker kid off the streets, and now you. Well, one thing is sure. He's definitely an interesting old man. Right?" He stood up and walked away. "You'll soon get used to things around here," York reassures him. "Do I really have to get used to this?" Back in the present, Chairman Kyle stood by a massive glass window at the Jupiter Company headquarters, staring out over the sprawling city skyline. The door clicked softly, and Secretary York walked into the executive suite. "How did they react?" the chairman asked, without turning around. "I don't think any of them will be coming, sir." The chairman let out a heavy, weathered sigh. "So not a single one of them understands how I feel. I can't do all these things by myself any longer; I can't run the company alone. I need one of them to help me...I need a successor. Someone to actually lead this company." "They're all still quite young, sir," York responded gently. "Being young isn't an excuse." The Chairman countered, finally turning around. "But I'm sure I'll see which one of them deserves the position by watching them live together and duke it out among themselves. Secretary York," He called. "Yes, Sir!" "Make sure you get them to show their faces at my wedding. The world will be watching us that day. If I let them off the hook for their mistakes, just because they're young, all of that will add up eventually and make them terrible people. And that will be detrimental to the Jupiter Company and Group as a whole." "I understand, Sir!" Down at the gritty neighborhood mechanic workshop, Jeffery was deep under the hood of a vehicle when a screech of tires cut through the air. A man pulled up in a flashy sedan and began shouting at the manager. "How many times has this been already?" he shouted, slamming his hand on the hood. "So, I have to pay for repairs again?" "Sir, you will put us in a difficult position if you continue acting this way." The manager replied in a low, weary tone. "But this isn't my fault!" the man shot back. "What's going on over there?" Jeffery asked his colleague. "Gosh! Not that guy again." His coworker groaned, tossing a wrench into a toolbox. "He's a blogger." While they were still talking, the man shouted at the manager even more. "Hey! You! What did you idiots do to my car?" Jeffery then asked, "But why is he shouting?" "He wrecked it himself, and he's trying to pin it on us," his coworker muttered. "How many times has it been already? This is like the fifth time, and he keeps threatening to post a bad review of us online if we don't fix it for free. Gosh!" His colleague was getting aggravated. Without a word, Jeffery climbed into the car he'd been working on, started the engine, and drove it straight into the blogger's car, slamming hard enough that the door came off its hinges and the side mirror shattered on the pavement. "HEY!" The man screamed, his face turning purple. "Do you have a death wish?" "Not particularly," he answered coolly as he stepped out of the wreck. The man closed the distance between them, shaking with rage, and grabbed a fistful of Jeffery's overalls. "What? What did you just say? You little punk. Do you know how expensive this car is?" Jeffery forcefully wrenched his hands away. "I'm sure I know better than you." He tossed a set of keys to the manager. "I'll cover both repairs. Get whatever you want fixed, but in exchange, you must apologize. Apologize and don't come back here with this entitled act of yours ever again." He pulled his own wallet out, extracted a black card, and tossed it directly to his stunned manager.

Across town, at Jupiter's flagship restaurant, Huxley was enjoying a rare quiet moment when one of his exes stormed in and started shouting. "How could you dump someone over a text message?" "What's wrong with a text? I even sent an emoji." He gave her a charming, entirely unapologetic grin. "Didn't I send a crying face and everything?" "You said I was your woman..." "Oh, that..." He leaned back, thoroughly amused. "Well, it's true. Every beautiful woman in the world is my woman. That’s why I’m so busy.” "Hey! Huxley!" she shrieked, loud enough that half the restaurant turned to look. She snatched a glass of water, raising it as if to drench him. At the last second, she stopped herself, drank the water in one gulp, and slammed the glass down. "Is the rumor even true?" she asked, her voice dropping. "What rumor?" "That you grant girls one wish when you break up with them." He smiled, leaning in close. "Just say the word." Minutes later, they stood at the valet curb. The woman pointed straight at his favorite sports car, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. With a careless shrug, Huxley tossed her the keys. She hopped in, revved the engine, and sped away into the night. "There goes another one," he sighed, completely unbothered, and turned to flag down a taxi just to meet his friends. --- "My new grandma and my mom are the same age," Huxley complained to his friends at the club that evening. "At this rate I might end up with a baby uncle." "That's one seriously complicated family tree," one of them laughed. "Does he look down on me?" Huxley muttered, swirling the ice in his glass. "He doesn't care what I think at all. I shouldn't just sit around and take it, right?" "So, what are you going to do about it?" another friend asked. "The ceremony's tomorrow," a third one chimed in. Huxley's eyes lit with mischief. "All right, let's shake up Grandpa's wedding." He walked toward the VIP entrance and pointed at the general automated doors. "I’ll take the very first girl who walks through those doors as my date.” "I would genuinely love to study your brain," his friend said. "What's even going on in there? Though I'll give you this: the girls who come through that door tonight won't be easy pickings." Huxley leaned in, voice low. "I don't care. It's more fun if she's a psycho." The club kept buzzing around them, people dancing, drinks swirling, and the noise thumped through the floor while Huxley and his friends stood watching the entrance, patient as hawks. Finally, the doors swung open. It was Emily. She was drenched from head to toe, wearing a heavy raincoat and holding a stack of steaming pizza boxes. She shook the water off and shouted over the music, clearly exhausted. "Pizza delivery!" Huxley's friends burst out laughing. Huxley just stared, jaw dropping. A smug customer in a VIP booth raised his hand. "That's weird. Are you sure you're at the right table?" "What? You ordered five pizzas, didn’t you?” Emily snapped, wiping a drop of rain from her face. "No, I’m talking about this.” The guy pointed to the receipt, highlighting the special request line: Send Your Prettiest Delivery Girl. "Special requests are for things like 'the elevator's broken, take the stairs,' or 'nobody's home, leave it by the door.' That's what that section is for," Emily said, forcing a razor-thin smile. "Says who? Is that a law now?" The customer sneered. "I asked for the prettiest girl, and they sent an ugly girl like you. Don’t I have the right to complain as a customer?” “That’ll be a hundred and twenty-seven dollars. Are you paying with a card?” Emily interrupted, ignoring his insult. "I'm too annoyed to even eat now. What are you going to do about that?" he sneered. "Pay up while I'm still being nice," Emily warned. "Excuse me?" the guy's buddy laughed. "Are you threatening a customer right now?" He snatched the pizza boxes and hurled them to the floor. “What now? Does that piss you off?” He stepped closer and flicked Emily hard on the forehead. “You’re just a piece of delivery vermin. Know your place.” From across the room, Huxley was already moving to step in until his friends grabbed his arm. “Hey, don’t get involved. You’ll just wind up paying his hospital bills if you hit him.” "Who said anything about fists?" he muttered, already reaching for his wallet, but before anyone could process what was happening, the rude customer at the table was airborne. Emily had delivered a lightning-fast kick directly to the man’s chest, sending him crashing backward into his booth. She unzipped her raincoat, tossed it aside, and glared down at him with fierce, sharp eyes. Huxley stood frozen, completely mesmerized. "I'll... I'll pay. Please, just let me pay!" the guy stammered, scrambling backward on his hands and knees. Emily grabbed his credit card, slapped it into her portable card reader, and held out the device. "Apologize. For calling me vermin." "Fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" he said, crawling backward. "There are people all over this city riding around at this hour, in this weather, for customers like you. And you call us vermin? Insects?" "All right! I won’t!” the man squeaked. "Try living your life a little differently," she said, then turned to the gawking crowd and bowed politely. "Sorry for the scene, everyone." Without waiting another second, she picked up her helmet and walked out. "Think you can actually pull this off?" Huxley's friend nudged him. "Are you underestimating me? A slow grin spread across Huxley’s face. “She’s an absolute thug, but damn. I love it. Come on, I’m a man of my word, just watch me.” He rushed out the doors after her, but by the time he hit the pavement, Emily had already kicked her motorcycle to life and sped off into the rain. He stood on the curb watching her taillights shrink into the distance, then pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo of her license plate before she disappeared completely. Emily pulled her bike into the narrow driveway of her family’s home. Inside, her stepmother, Darus, and her stepsister, Yara, were huddled together over a laptop, checking Yara’s university application portal. Darus was a wreck about it, biting her knuckles as Yara hovered the cursor over a green button that read ‘CHECK ADMISSION RESULT’. Yara finally clicked. The screen refreshed, displaying bold red text: CHRIS YARA NOT ACCEPTED. Darus let out a furious, dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this!” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I told you, I didn't want to go to college," Yara whined, slouching back in her chair. "I said I'm going to be a singer." “I paid for private tutors and prep courses so you could network with boys like Kyle Huxley!” Darus shouted. "And since that didn't pan out, the least you could do is get into college. I want a return on my investment!" "Whatever! Why are you taking this out on me?" Yara whined. Just then the front door opened, and Emily walked in. "Good evening, Mom. Good evening, Yara," she said warmly. “Why are you still walking around in that worn-out school uniform?” Darus scolded, ignoring the greeting entirely. "People see you dressed like that, they'll think we're poor. And that insult lands on me, not you." "It's just... it's comfortable," Emily murmured gently. Yara smirked. "Oh, is it now?" “I’m sorry,” Emily said softly, keeping her head down to keep the peace. Darus nudged Yara’s arm. “Refresh it one more time. Maybe it was a glitch.” “Mom, stop. It’s not going to change,” Yara groaned. Emily stepped forward. "Mother, can I use the computer, just this once?" Emily asked quietly. Yara snickered, trading a look with her mother. “Wait, did you actually apply to college?” Emily nodded. "Fine. Go ahead." Yara said, sliding the laptop over. Emily sat down and typed into the search bar: University of Education. "University of Education?" Darus asked, surprised. "Yes. I want to be a teacher," Emily said softly. "It was my mother's dream." “Unbelievable.” Darus rolled her eyes. “I raised you, and all you care about is your dead mother." "That's not what I meant, Mother..." "Don’t set your sights too high, Emily. People like you only end up disappointed. Learn your place.” Before Darus could finish her rant, the page loaded. A green button appeared: CHECK ADMISSION RESULT. Emily entered her applicant ID and clicked the button. CONGRATULATIONS! CHRIS EMILY — YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED. Joy flooded through her, while across the room, Darus and Yara went visibly rigid with something closer to jealousy. Darus rounded on Yara with a furious glare. Yara, scrambling to save face, sneered at Emily instead. "Well, it's not like just anyone can go to college. You need money for that." "I've saved enough for the first semester," Emily replied calmly, closing the laptop browser. “I’ll work extra shifts to cover the rest.” The second she reached her room, she nearly screamed and clapped both hands over her mouth instead, muffling it down to something quiet. “I made it... I actually made it! This is amazing. Oh my god, this is so amazing." She kept her voice down, careful not to let it carry to the sitting room, where her stepmother was still stewing. "Man, today was rough," she murmured, "but this makes up for every bit of it." She pulled out the silver pendant she always wore, the one engraved with her mother's picture. Pressing the cold metal to her lips, tears blurred her eyes. "Mom. I'm a college student now. I got in," she whispered. "I'm going to make your dream come true, I promise. Your daughter's pretty awesome, huh? I miss you so much... I'll come see you soon."