She didn't leave.
Instead, she made herself comfortable on my couch — my couch, I kept having to remind myself — and rested her chin on her hand. She just stared. At me. Like I was a puzzle with missing pieces.
"Well?" I said.
"Well what?"
"You're staring."
"I'm observing." She took another sip of water. "Very much not the same thing."
I didn't move from where I was standing. Still in the robe.
"You used to hate when I did this," she said.
"Did what?"
"Exist in your space without asking."
I didn't know what the old Vincent would have said to that, so I said nothing.
She tilted her head. It was curiosity, nothing more.
"You're quieter," she said. "It's... strange."
"Good strange or bad strange?"
She thought about it. Actually thought about it. "I don't know yet."
Then she shook it off. "So. When are you coming back?"
"Back where?"
She blinked like I'd asked something stupid.
"School. The semester started a week ago. You've missed three classes already. Your father's assistant has been calling." She paused. "Mine too, actually. They're worried about the group project."
I didn't even know what classes I was taking.
"Right," I said. "School."
She stared at me for a long second. Then let out a small breath — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. Something in between.
"You really don't remember anything, do you?"
"I remember some things," I said. "Just not... this."
She didn't ask what I remembered. Just nodded, like she was filing that away for later.
"You should probably figure out when you're showing up. People are already talking."
Then she stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back.
"Also, put on some clothes. You're not that pretty."
She was lying. I'd seen the face in the mirror.
But I just nodded.
Then she left.
And I was alone again. With a penthouse, a Porsche, a sister who cared, and a girlfriend who hated me.
But I didn't have time to dwell on that. I had a new life to figure out.
***
The next morning, I woke up to sunlight and a phone buzzing on the nightstand.
Menace 💜: Breakfast? I'm downstairs.
I took the fastest shower of my new life, threw on whatever was in the closet — blue jeans, a red sweater that probably cost more than my former laptop — and headed down.
Vi was already in the kitchen. She'd set the table like she lived here. Plates, glasses, the whole thing.
She looked up and smiled. "Good morning. Sleep good?"
"Better than expected," I said. Then I looked at the spread. Eggs. Toast. Fruit. Something that smelled like fresh bread.
"You cooked all this yourself?"
She nodded. "Yep. Courtesy of the best teacher."
Her eyes flicked to me when she said it. Quick. The kind of look that said 'you know what I mean' without saying a word.
"Wait." I slid into the seat across from her. "I taught you how to cook?"
She smiled again, softer this time. "You did. I was six. You stood me on a stool so I could reach the stove, and said 'every Dorrington should know how to make a decent omelette.'"
I looked at the food. Then at her.
Gabriel couldn't cook. Instant noodles and ramen, sure. A mean toast if you pushed him. But this? This was real.
Vincent, apparently, had layers.
I took another bite. Let the silence sit.
Vi didn't say much either. The silence was oddly not uncomfortable. Just... full.
Then she reached into her purse and slid a card across the table.
Black. Metal. Heavy.
"Yours," she said. "I was keeping it safe. You know, in case someone tried to take advantage of the amnesia thing."
I picked it up. Turned it over. An emblem. My name. A bank I'd never heard of — the kind that doesn't need to advertise.
Gabriel had once owned a library card and a debit card that declined at gas stations.
I put it in my pocket.
"Thanks," I said.
She nodded. Then took another bite of her toast.
We ate for a while longer. Down below, the city was doing whatever cities do — people in suits, cars in traffic, none of them knowing I used to count coins for ramen.
Then I put my fork down.
"What do I need to know?"
She looked up.
"About school. Our family. Him." I tapped my chest. "Vincent. What am I walking into?"
Vi leaned back in her chair. Studied me for a second. Then she started talking.
"Okay. First thing: you're a junior. Business major. Your GPA is... decent. Above 3.0. Dad makes sure of it. He'd metaphorically kill you if it dropped lower."
Vi paused. "Victor still finds ways to use it against you. Your social life. Your reputation. The way you breathe. He always looks for something."
"Second: you have a reputation. Parties. Girls. The whole thing. People expect you to be... fun. Loud. A little annoying, honestly."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It was." She smiled. "You're quieter now. I don't hate it."
I didn't say anything to that.
"Third," she continued, "Emilia. You two are... complicated. Our fathers want a merger. You two tolerate each other. That's the arrangement. She shows up three times a week, you pretend to be a couple, and everyone pretends not to know it's fake."
"Three times a week?"
"Something like that. I don't keep a schedule."
I thought about the blonde who hated me but showed up anyway. Who studied me like a problem she hadn't solved yet.
"Anything else I should know?"
Vi thought for a moment. "Ah. You have a lot of friends. And girlfriends who act like girlfriends but without the title."
I blinked. "Is that even a thing?"
She smirked. "Welcome to your life."
A pause. Then:
"And Dad?" I asked.
She looked down at her plate.
"Dad is... Dad. He's not warm. He's not going to visit. He'll send his assistant if he needs something. Just... don't expect him to be what he's not."
I waited.
"He does care," she said quietly. "He just stopped showing it after Mom passed away."
She didn't look at me when she said it.
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything.
I just kept eating.
After breakfast, she cleared the plates. Told me to relax, that she had it. I helped anyway.
"I'll pick you up Monday," she said at the door. "For class. Don't be late."
Then she was gone.
I pulled out the black card again. Ran my thumb over the emblem. Gabriel once had a bank account that charged him for falling below minimum balance. Now I had this.
A 3.0 GPA they called "decent." A penthouse I didn't pay for. A car named Shadow.
Vincent had been coasting.
I wasn't going to coast.
Monday was three days away. I had a lot to learn. But one thing I already knew — I wasn't going to live Vincent's life.
I was going to live mine. Just with better tools.