Page 3 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Dr. Rodriguez’s smile falters slightly as he glances at my chart. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t discharge you just yet. Your CT scan showed a mild concussion, and we need to keep you under observation until at least tomorrow morning.”

I feel my heart sink. Another day trapped here, with everyone treating me like I’m losing my mind. “But I feel fine,” I protest, saying whatever it takes to get out of here sooner.

The doctor’s expression is sympathetic but firm. “I understand you want to leave, but it’s crucial we monitor you for any complications. Concussions can be tricky things.”

I slump back against the pillows, defeated. My father squeezes my hand, trying to offer comfort, but I can barely look at him. How can I make him understand when he won’t even listen?

“Now,” Dr. Rodriguez continues, his tone shifting to something more. “I’ve already discussed this with your father,but should your scans come back clear, you’ll still be able to make the reception ceremony as well as the dinner tomorrow evening in the great hall.”

I feel a jolt of surprise at the doctor’s words. The reception? The dinner in the great hall? What is he talking about?

“What reception?” I ask.

Dr. Rodriguez looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, I apologize. I forgot you might not remember due to your concussion. The annual Altair pre-trial ceremony is tomorrow evening.”

“Sutton told me you found the golden flag during your pre-trial game.” My father’s face lights up with pride. I can only assume that in addition to this proud moment, she also forgot to mention how I essentially told Chancellor Maxwell and the entire school to shove it by giving the flag to Alfie in front of everyone.

How convenient.

I was already used to letting one parent down, so why not disappoint the other? If I get discharged in time, he’ll find out what really happened and that I no longer have the precious flag.

“Right,” I say, my voice tight. “The ceremony. I forgot. I guess that’s from the concussion.”

Dr. Rodriguez nods sympathetically. “That’s perfectly normal after what you experienced. Your memories should start to come back gradually.”

But I already remember everything. The flag, Alfie, Chancellor Maxwell’s face twisted in shock and anger. I remember it all too clearly. Yet here I am, trapped in a web of lies and half-truths, unable to distinguish reality from whatever game Sutton and the other Legacies are playing.

A knot forms in my stomach. The thought of attending some grand ceremony, pretending everything is normal, makes mewant to scream. “I’m not sure I’m up for it. The ceremony, I mean,” I clarify.

My father’s face falls. “But this is such an important moment. You’ve worked so hard, and you should celebrate.”

I glance at Sutton, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression. She knows the truth, knows that I gave up the flag. Is she waiting for me to expose her lie, or is she daring me to try?

“I just don’t feel well enough,” I insist, looking back at Dr. Rodriguez. “Surely it’s not a good idea for me to attend a big event right after a concussion?”

Dr. Rodriguez hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Well, as long as you’re feeling up to it and your symptoms have improved, attendance shouldn’t pose any risks. But of course, if you’re not comfortable—”

“She’ll be fine, she’s a Prescott,” my father interjects, insistent. “It’s just nerves, right, kiddo? Once you’re there, surrounded by your classmates, you’ll feel much better.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Sutton speaks up before I can. “Your father’s right. Everyone’s so excited to celebrate your achievement. It would be a shame to miss it.”

Her words are honey-sweet, but I can see the steel behind her eyes.

I feel trapped, cornered by everyone’s expectations and the lies surrounding me. My head throbs, a dull ache that seems to intensify with each passing moment. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the concerned faces around me, but their voices still penetrate my consciousness.

“Alex?” I hear my father ask. “Are you alright?”

I force my eyes open, plastering on a weak smile. “I’m just tired,” I lie, hating how easily the deception comes. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll feel better after some rest.”

Dr. Rodriguez nods approvingly. “Rest is exactly what you need. We’ll continue to monitor you throughout the night andreassess in the morning. If all goes well, you should be able to attend the ceremony tomorrow evening.”

I nod mechanically, unable to trust myself to speak. As the doctor starts to leave, I close my eyes, shutting everyone out.

The doctor adds, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and Alex? It’s up to you, since you’re a legal adult now, but I heard you were mumbling your mother’s name earlier? I was made aware of the difficult relationship you have with her, and we have a fantastic therapist on campus that I highly suggest.”

I feel my body go stiff at the mention of Vera.

“I don’t need a therapist,” I say, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “And I certainly don’t want to discuss that woman.”

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