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Chapter 224 - Let's Go

A sleek white Mercedes-Maybach EQS had pulled up beside her. The electric purr of the engine was so silent, so seamless, that Precious hadn't even noticed it approaching until the tinted window began to slide down with deliberate smoothness.

Inside, bathed in filtered sunlight and perfume-thick air, sat three girls.

Each of them perfectly framed like a trio of high-fashion sirens, faces half-lit by the soft cream interior. The car was spotless — not a single fingerprint or loose item — even the cupholders looked like they'd been disinfected with gold dust.

But the voice that called her name didn't come from the front.

It came from the backseat.

Slouched elegantly like she was born into luxury, her elbow perched lazily on the armrest, sat Zara — the same Zara who had once begged for Ethan's number, and when denied, had made it her personal mission to turn Precious' life into a slow-burn psychological thriller.

Her hair was slicked back into a glossy low ponytail, and a pair of oversized Dior sunglasses sat halfway down her nose, just enough to let her eyes skim past the rims with an expression soaked in sarcasm.

"Precious?" Zara's voice slithered out, high-pitched and amused — like the sound of a blade being polished.

Her gaze drifted down slowly, lazily — from Precious' face, to her coat, then to the shopping bags tucked under her arms. Designer. Multiple. Heavy.

There was a pause. Just long enough for the insult to marinate.

Then:

"Ooo... guess big brother's money still pays nicely."

The corners of her mouth curled into a smug little smirk — one of those mean-girl expressions that wasn't technically a smile, but held more venom than anything outright cruel.

From the front passenger seat, Lila erupted into a soft giggle, her laughter sharp and performative — like she'd been waiting all morning for this moment.

"Stop," she whispered through her giggles, hitting Zara playfully on the knee. But she wasn't stopping.

Not even close.

Lila had caramel highlights that glinted in the sunlight, a pointed nose ring, and a loud, attention-hungry laugh that always seemed half a second too loud for the situation. She wasn't even from their department — Communications major, maybe? Precious wasn't sure. What she did know was that Lila was never seen without Amara. Wherever Amara went, Lila followed like a shadow desperate to be seen.

Then, behind the wheel — hands manicured, resting lightly on the custom beige leather steering — was Amara.

No snickering. No teasing.

Just cold, bored indifference.

She didn't laugh at Zara's jab. She didn't even turn to look. Her lips were a muted nude matte, pressed into a straight line as she stared out of the windshield like none of this mattered — because to her, it didn't. That was her power.

Amara was the type of girl who had her birthday written in the stars and celebrated in Vogue. Everyone knew her not for what she did, but for what she represented. Wealth. Power. Legacy. The fact that she was the only freshman allowed to have a car on campus — and a luxury car at that — was all you needed to know about her.

She hadn't said a word, but the quiet around her spoke volumes. Privilege didn't always need a voice.

Precious knew she was in the same department. Business. Same year, even. But they had never spoken directly — not in class, not outside it. Amara was always shrouded in silence, orbiting above everyone like a planet too expensive to land on.

Still, none of them stung like Zara.

Zara — who once hugged her tightly after a group project, laughing and asking for Ethan's number "just to follow him, no big deal!"

Zara — who turned spiteful in the blink of an eye after being told no.

Zara — who now spent every moment they crossed paths making Precious feel like her surname was a leash instead of a crown.

The snickers in the car continued, layered in fake sweetness and real malice.

And Precious?

She felt her throat tighten — that specific kind of gagged-up burn, like her breath had been suddenly pulled inward and stuck behind her ribs. The air felt heavier now, even outside the luxury car.

The bags under her arms suddenly felt louder, like they were screaming the same thing Zara had just said.

"You didn't earn this."

"You're just the sister."

"You're nobody without him."

But she didn't speak. Not yet.

Not when three girls, sitting in air-conditioned opulence, had weaponized silence, sarcasm, and snickering like it was sport.

And now, joined by her ever-present partners in cruelty: Lila — loud, fake, always laughing too hard at things that weren't funny — and Amara, the silent queen of icy indifference.

It was always those three.

And in the short, painful time since she'd stepped foot on this new chapter of her life, they had somehow made every single day ten times harder than it already was.

It wasn't just open teasing. No, they were far more refined than that.

It was subtler. Sharper. Prettier.

Backhanded compliments. Group chats that excluded her but discussed her.

Eye rolls passed between them whenever she raised her hand in class.

Little whispered jokes when she walked into lecture halls.

Laughs too loud when she answered a professor's question.

Precious had once thrived in environments like this — power games, social hierarchies, unspoken rules of who sat where and who talked to whom. High school had been her empire. She had worn the crown, ruled the halls, and wielded attention like a sword.

But this?

This felt like high school in reverse.

It was like someone had taken her old life, flipped it upside down, and now made her watch while other girls sat on thrones built from her broken pieces.

The queen had become the outcast.

And the cruel irony?

She still looked like the queen — the hair, the skin, the walk, the wardrobe — but none of that mattered anymore.

Because here, she wasn't Precious Jones the star.

She was Precious Jones — Ethan Jones' sister.

That identity stuck to her like glitter — unwanted, unshakable, shimmering just enough to remind people that she wasn't her own person.

And now she stood frozen on the sidewalk, bags in both arms, her phone in her back pocket, her breath catching in her throat as the laughter from the car rang louder in her ears than it probably actually was.

They were still laughing.

Zara's sharp snickers.

Lila's obnoxious high-pitched giggles.

Even the subtle scoff from Amara as she tapped something into her phone with one hand on the steering wheel.

Precious' vision blurred slightly — not from tears, not yet — but from the sheer awkward humiliation of it all.

She wasn't even sure what to do.

Should she turn around? Should she say something? Should she walk right past them with her chin high like none of it bothered her?

Her feet were rooted.

Her hands were shaking just enough for the bags to rustle.

Her jaw clenched, then unclenched.

Her pulse was thumping behind her ears.

And then…

A voice echoed softly in her mind.

A whisper.

A memory.

"Use me."

Ethan's voice, or maybe just the ghost of it, flickered again in her mind. And before she could stop herself, before she could overthink or backtrack or crumble —

She spoke.

"Yes. It's my brother's money. What happened?"

The words came out a bit shaky, not as sharp as she would've wanted. The confidence wasn't fully there — but it was enough to slice through the shallow laughter in the car.

Suddenly, the giggling stopped.

The girls inside the sleek white car went silent.

Three pairs of eyes turned slowly toward her — blinking in synchronized disbelief.

Zara's voice cut through the quiet, confused and cocky at once.

"What?"

Precious inhaled — slow, deep — and then let the smile come.

Not the shy one. Not the forced one she wore around campus.

No.

The old one. The one she used to wear like armor.

She adjusted the strap of her designer tote, then tilted her head with a sweet, dangerous grin.

"Yeah. He was just here, actually. Swung by to check on me."

She shrugged lightly, like it was nothing.

"Bought me a couple things — you know, just big brother stuff."

With a little flourish, she lifted the edge of the shopping bag.

A glint of silver and soft orange peeking through — the unmistakable signature of a Birkin bag.

"Oh, and this?" she added, pulling the box ever so slightly into view.

"Cartier. Diamonds. So unnecessary, right? But that's Ethan. Isn't he just the best?"

Silence.

Zara blinked.

Lila's jaw slackened a bit, her glossed lips slightly parted.

Then:

"Wait, wait — Ethan was here?" Zara said, whipping her head around, suddenly looking out the windows like she might spot him lingering by a tree.

Lila craned her neck too, twisting around in her seat to scan the street.

"Oh my God, where is he? Did he leave already?!"

Precious gave a gentle, casual wave of her hand.

"Don't bother. He just left. His concert's tonight, you know — kind of busy being a global superstar and all that."

Zara and Lila slumped back in their seats, visibly annoyed at the missed opportunity.

Precious, meanwhile, let herself bask in it.

Just a bit.

"Oh, of course we knew that," Lila said quickly, regaining composure. "We've had our tickets for weeks."

Zara added, "Actually — Amara has backstage passes. All-access. For all three of us."

They giggled again, but this time it felt… forced.

The upper hand was no longer in the car — it was standing right outside it, looking gorgeous and gloriously unbothered.

Zara turned back to Precious, trying to find footing again.

"Are you coming tonight?"

Precious blinked slowly, then let out a small yawn.

"Not really. I mean… I can see him whenever I want. I'm not starved for a moment."

She stretched her arms slightly, then picked up the rest of her bags.

"I'm honestly exhausted from shopping. So, girls… I'm off. Enjoy the show."

And just like that, she turned.

The heels of her boots clicked softly against the pavement, the sound confident — sharp.

Behind her, Zara grit her teeth.

"Ugh. This girl…" she muttered, her voice bitter as battery acid.

Lila tried to soothe her. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go get ready. Amara—Amara!"

But Amara wasn't responding.

She was still staring.

Her gaze, unreadable as ever, lingered on Precious as she walked away.

"Amara?" Lila repeated.

Amara blinked. "Oh. Sorry. What?"

"Let's start going."

Amara nodded absently, eyes flicking back toward Precious one last time before she started the engine and pulled away.

"Fuuuuck, that felt good."

Precious whispered it out loud as she giggled to herself, walking down the sidewalk with a bit of a strut now.

She felt electric.

Her cheeks flushed with relief and pride — a momentary high from finally owning it.

For once, she didn't shrink.

She didn't apologize.

She didn't try to dim her light.

"Why was I hiding again?" she murmured to herself, shaking her head, still smiling.

"Imagine being ashamed of privilege? Mine? That's crazy."

She thought about it.

Before today, every time she wore something expensive, someone would whisper about Ethan.

Even when it wasn't from Ethan — even when it was her dad's or her own savings — the whispers came anyway.

Now?

Now she wasn't pretending anymore.

Let them talk. Let them know.

She was Precious freaking Jones.

Minutes later...

She stepped into her dorm room, the soft click of the door shutting behind her.

She let out a breath.

The adrenaline slowly wore off as she dropped her bags carefully by her bed.

She unzipped the large shopping tote and began taking out her new things, placing them neatly on her dresser and hanging a few choice pieces in her tiny closet space.

Then she sat down on the edge of the bed — letting the silence fill the room for a beat.

She looked at herself in the mirror across the room.

"Okay, Precious," she whispered.

"Now it's time to get your life back on track."

But just as she said that —

The doorknob twisted.

The door creaked open.

And there she was.

Grace.

Her roommate.

Grace entered like she always did — quiet, focused, carrying a laptop and a few books, earbuds in her ears.

She gave no greeting.

Just walked to her side of the room, placed her stuff down, and sat on her bed.

Precious stayed sitting on her own, hands between her knees, glancing sideways.

It was awkward. Still.

And she hated it.

Because the truth was… she'd been a shitty roommate.

Not because Grace was annoying — but because Precious had been rude. Cold. Dismissive.

She'd shut Grace out.

Why?

Because she was an Ethan jones fan and she overheard her playing one of Ethan's songs on her phone the first day they moved in.

And after that, Precious wanted nothing to do with her.

Not because of who Grace was…

But because of who she reminded her of.

But now… that bitterness was crumbling.

And maybe it was time to fix it.

She cleared her throat.

"Hey."

Grace paused.

She turned slowly, blinking.

"Wait. Are you… talking to me?"

Precious gave a soft, sheepish laugh. "Yeah."

Grace raised an eyebrow, visibly shocked.

"I just… I wanted to say I'm sorry," Precious said, voice gentle but clear. "For everything."

Grace blinked again. "Oh. Wow. This must be something."

Precious laughed awkwardly. "It is."

And then — slowly, cautiously, like peeling off a layer of armor — she started to talk.

Not everything.

But enough.

Enough about the resentment. The suffocation. The insecurities. The exhausting weight of being someone's sister when all she wanted was to be herself.

Grace sat down across from her, quiet at first… then listening, then nodding.

And just like that…

They talked.

"Wow… so that's why."

Grace's voice was soft, not judging — just understanding. The words hung in the air for a moment like a thread between them.

Precious nodded faintly, eyes lowered, the weight of what she'd just confessed still lingering on her shoulders.

"Yeah," she whispered, almost like an exhale. "That's why."

There was a pause.

Then Grace leaned back slightly on the bed, tilted her head, and said — plain and unfiltered:

"So that's why you were a bitch."

Precious blinked, scoffing as her head shot up.

"Hey! Okay, okay, I know I was bad… but 'bitch'? Isn't that a little too far?"

Grace shook her head with a mischievous grin.

"Nope. 'Bitch' is exactly the right word. Capital B. Maybe even underlined."

They both burst out laughing.

The kind of laughter that releases tension from the body — the kind that says: I see you. I forgive you. We're good now.

Precious leaned back on her elbows, grinning.

"So… we cool?"

Grace smirked.

"Hmm. That depends. Hand over those pink leather boots of yours and we'll call it even."

Precious gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like Grace had just insulted her entire bloodline.

"My boots? Not the pink ones! Girl, those are couture! Those are my babies!"

Grace laughed harder. "Exactly. Consider it emotional damages."

"Wow. Noted. I'm sleeping with one eye open now, Grace."

They giggled again, the air around them lighter than it had been since day one.

It wasn't just a funny moment — it was a turning point.

The tension, the resentment, the ice between them — it had all melted away.

Precious leaned forward and gave Grace a sudden hug, arms wrapping tight.

Grace blinked, surprised for a beat, then smiled and hugged back.

"Thanks," Precious said softly, the word simple but full of meaning.

Just then—

a knock at the door.

"Ehm…" Precious pulled back slightly, looking toward the door, brows raised.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

Grace shook her head slowly, confused.

"No… not really."

Curious, she got up and padded across the small dorm room, pulling open the door gently.

Standing just outside were two girls — familiar faces lit by the hallway's warm light.

Grace blinked.

"Oooh, hey guys!"

It was her friends.

The same two girls who had been with her that day when Ethan showed up to get her.

The door hadn't even fully swung open before the two girls pushed their way in.

"Ooooh this dorm is cute!" one of them chirped, eyes darting across the room like a hawk searching for prey.

The other followed close behind, not even bothering to remove her designer sunglasses despite being indoors. She immediately zeroed in on the bed, the wall posters, the skincare shelf — scanning everything, as though the room was hiding a secret she just needed to sniff out.

Grace blinked, clearly caught off guard by the intrusion.

"Um… hi?"

Precious, meanwhile, stood stiffly, still holding her water bottle halfway to her mouth, her smile tight and polite.

"Hey," she said softly, barely making eye contact.

The two girls — Rina and Cleo — were not strangers. In fact, they had been with Grace earlier that day when Ethan had shown up. They were part of her small circle — the kind that always smiled wide but asked way too many questions. Today was no different.

Grace closed the door behind them, still puzzled.

"Did you… forget something?"

Rina, the one with the sunglasses, waved her hand dramatically.

"Nooo, nothing like that. We actually came to see her."

She pointed, without shame, directly at Precious.

Both Grace and Precious blinked at the same time.

"Me?" Precious asked, her voice a bit too high-pitched.

Cleo stepped forward, arms crossed, a fake-casual grin on her face.

"We heard your brother's on campus. You know… Ethan Jones."

She gave a performative gasp.

"Imagine — the Ethan Jones just strolling into a dorm room like a normal guy? Wild."

Rina jumped in.

"Yeah, and we were just wondering if maybe we could meet him? Or, I don't know — grab concert tickets? We've been trying everywhere. Literally everything is sold out. You wouldn't happen to have the plug, would you?"

Her tone dripped with forced innocence — as though they weren't fully aware how transparent they sounded.

Precious froze.

There it was again.

That shift.

That pivot.

From "Hi Precious" to "Where's your brother?"

Her grip on the water bottle tightened just slightly.

Grace, who had just shared in Precious's entire confession minutes earlier, stood silently. Shock registered on her face, followed by something colder: disgust. It was like witnessing someone spill their soul to you, only to have strangers walk in and trample it.

Precious attempted a smile, nodding vaguely.

"Oh, um… he actually just left."

Rina's shoulders slumped dramatically.

"No way. We literally just missed him?"

Cleo frowned.

"Ugh. That sucks. Do you think you could message him though? Like, just ask if he has even two extra tickets? I'd literally owe you forever."

"Yeah, same," Rina chimed in. "I'd pay anything. Like anything. Just let me know."

They were pressing in now — emotionally, spatially — voices overlapping, energy buzzing like paparazzi on a scent.

Precious was visibly squirming, eyes darting toward Grace like a silent plea for help.

"Um… I can message him and… and see…"

Her voice cracked just slightly. It was too much. Too familiar.

Grace didn't hesitate.

"Okay," she cut in, voice a little too sharp. "Ladies, I think that's enough for now. We'll check and get back to you if anything's possible, but we kinda have plans. Personal plans. Girl plans."

The tone had changed. Grace was no longer playing nice.

The two girls exchanged a glance, forced a laugh, and began backing toward the door.

"Oh, totally, totally. We didn't mean to overstep," Cleo said, looping her arm with Rina's.

"We'll catch you later!" Rina added.

"Yeah, totally," Precious murmured as they left.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence.

Grace turned immediately.

"I'm so sorry."

Precious was still standing in the same spot, her face unreadable.

"Precious, I swear on my life I didn't tell them he came. I didn't even think they'd—"

"It's fine," Precious interrupted, finally looking up. Her voice was calm.

"I mean it. You don't need to apologize. This is just… something I need to get used to."

Grace frowned, clearly not buying it.

"I didn't know they were gonna do that. I feel like I just fed you to the wolves or something."

Precious chuckled weakly.

"Well, I should still be the one apologizing. For everything else. So… maybe we're even now."

Grace still looked like she had more to say, but Precious suddenly clapped her hands together, her eyes wide with a spark of unexpected energy.

"Okay, let's go!"

Grace blinked.

"Ehn? Go where?"

"The concert," Precious said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She was already heading for her coat.

"Let's both go. It's tonight. And I've been hiding from everything for way too long."

Grace stared at her — equal parts impressed and confused.

Then she smiled.

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