The countryside air in Neerim South was fresher than anything Heinrey Smith had breathed in a long time. Rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, framed by towering gum trees and dirt paths that twisted and turned like quiet secrets. It was peaceful — too peaceful for someone who’d grown up surrounded by the polished glass towers and echoing boardrooms of the Smith Corporation.

Heinrey will turn eighteen next week.

As his father suggested, his mother, Nora Smith, thought a change of scenery would be good for him — a short break from the pressure of being the only heir of the Smith legacy. His father, Alan, as usual, couldn’t leave the city. “I’ll catch up in a day or two,” he had said over the phone, and that was that.

It was on that trip — in that sleepy, golden countryside — that Heinrey met Ellie Jones.

She was fifteen. A local girl. Barefoot on the grass. Wind-tangled hair. She was innocent and kind, yet curious and brave. She approached him by the fence of the farmhouse they were staying in, a bright smile on her face and a flower crown in her hand like she’d been waiting for someone to talk to.

“Are you lost?” she asked.

“No,” he said, unsure whether to smile or keep his distance. “Just... visiting.”

“I’m Ellie,” she grinned, then tilted her head. “You’ve got city shoes.”

He chuckled. “And you’ve got thorns in your feet.”

“Worth it,” she said, shrugging. “Want me to show you around?”

That was how it started. Heinrey — or “Rey,” as he told her — spent the rest of the day exploring places he never would’ve found on his own. Abandoned sheds. Secret trails. A bridge that creaked like it was about to collapse. She told him stories — about the hill that echoed your name, about the local ghosts, about how she lived with her uncle since her parents passed away. There was something fragile about the way she said it. Honest. Unfiltered.

---

The next afternoon, Nora handed the picnic basket to her son and his new friend. She seemed glad he found someone to talk to — someone who wasn’t trying to network or impress him. “I’ll follow you in a bit,” she told him, phone pressed to her ear. “Go ahead and set up.”

Rey rode his bike to the large tree Ellie had pointed out the day before — the oldest in the area, with roots as thick as benches and branches that created a canopy of shade. Ellie was already there, sitting on the grass, hugging her knees.

“You’re early,” Rey said, parking his bike and setting the basket down.

“I like quiet,” she replied softly. “And I like this tree.”

They sat together under the branches, sunlight filtering through the leaves like golden dust. He handed her a sandwich. She took a bite and hummed in approval. Then, a strange sound interrupted the moment — a low grumble. Rey turned toward her.

“Was that... you?”

Ellie’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe,” she said, smiling awkwardly.

Rey laughed and opened the juice bottle. “You didn’t eat much, did you?”

“I didn’t want to look greedy.”

“You should’ve. There’s plenty.”

They shared the food. Talked about silly things. Her dreams. His. The kind of music they liked. How she wanted to see the ocean someday. Rey didn’t notice how much juice he drank. He wasn’t really hungry. Just thirsty — and tired. It had been a long week.

---

The air was cooler when Rey stirred. He blinked slowly. His head felt heavy, and there was a strange pressure in his chest — like he’d slept too long in the wrong position.

Then he heard it.

A quiet, broken sob.

He sat up quickly. Dusk had fallen — soft and bluish — and shadows had crept in under the tree like they’d been waiting.

There, a few feet away, was Ellie.

She was curled in on herself, her shoulders shaking. Her braid had come undone. Her clothes were wrinkled and her expression unreadable.

Rey’s voice came out hoarse. “Ellie?”

She flinched. Not like she didn’t know him — but like she wasn’t sure she could look at him.

“Hey,” he said gently, crawling closer. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She looked at him, eyes full of something he couldn’t name. “Rey... something’s wrong. I don’t know how it happened.”

He looked down — then froze. His shirt was off. His belt was undone. His heart pounded in his ears.

“I— I don’t remember anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie wiped her tears. “I think... I think there was something in the juice. You drank so much of it.”

“And you?”

“I only drank after eating... I started feeling dizzy. And hot. And then...” She looked away. “When I came to my senses, it was already over.”

The world tilted. Rey’s stomach churned.

“I swear I don’t remember, Ellie. I would never—” He stopped himself, panic creeping into his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

She hugged herself. “We’re too young... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rey grabbed the only thing he was still wearing — a silver chain with his family’s crest on it — and placed it in her trembling hand.

“I’ll make this right,” he said. “I promise. When we’re old enough... I’ll marry you. I swear.”

Ellie didn’t say anything. But she held onto the chain like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

He helped her to her feet. Quietly. Carefully. They rode the bike together, not saying much. He dropped her at her uncle’s place, then turned around and sped off — toward the farmhouse, toward his mother, toward answers he wasn’t sure he wanted.

Heinrey pedaled hard through the winding countryside road, the fading twilight giving way to a ghostly blue darkness. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels, and tree shadows swayed across the dirt like claws reaching out from the past. His mind was a whirlwind — Ellie's tearful confession, the strange juice, the guilt, the promise. And now, a new weight pressed into his chest.

His mother.

She never came to the picnic.

He reached the farmhouse and noticed something was off. The porch light wasn’t on. The windows were dark.

“Mom?” he called out as he stepped inside.

The front room was a mess — pillows thrown, picture frames crooked, drawers pulled open. It wasn’t like this when he left.

In the corner of her bedroom, his mother sat on the floor, hugging her knees, her mascara smudged down her face like she had been crying for hours.

“Mom!” He rushed to her side. “What happened?”

She looked up, voice shaking. “Your father... he betrayed us.”

Heinrey blinked. “What do you mean?”

Nora gripped his arm. “Your father and my best friend — Sherry — they planned all this. Sending us here was just an excuse... to be together in the house I built with him.”

His stomach twisted. “Sherry Cooper? She’s the one who prepared the picnic basket.”

Nora nodded slowly. “I trusted her with everything. And she handed me back a lie.”

Heinrey’s thoughts raced. Ellie. The juice. That dizzy feeling. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. “She... she drugged me?”

He staggered to his feet, fury burning through him. The memory of Ellie flashed — her soft smile, her wide, honest eyes. Was it all fake?

Without another word, he stormed out.

---

The night was cold when he knocked — no, pounded — on the door of Ellie’s uncle’s house.

Ellie answered, wearing a cardigan over her sleep clothes, clearly startled. “Rey?”

His face was unreadable. His voice is low and bitter. “Do you know Sherry Cooper?”

She looked confused. “She visits sometimes… why?”

He gave a dry, joyless laugh. “Of course. I should’ve known. I was a fool.”

“Wait— What are you talking about?” Ellie stepped forward, concerned.

But Heinrey pulled a black card from his wallet and threw it at her feet — one of his no-limit family cards.

“For your part in the game,” he said coldly.

“Game?” she whispered.

But he was already turning around, storming off into the night without looking back.

---

Ellie couldn’t sleep.

The words Rey had thrown at her circled her mind like knives. So that’s how it is… I was a fool... your part in the game...

She sat up in bed, clutching the chain he’d once given her. What game? What did he mean?

Morning light crept through her window. She hadn’t changed clothes. She hadn’t cried — not yet. She was still too stunned.

At exactly 9:00 AM, she rushed to the farmhouse.

She knocked. No answer.

Again.

And again.

The old caretaker arrived a few minutes later, walking with a tired limp.

“Excuse me, sir — the people staying here... the boy and his mother, where are they?”

He looked at her with tired sympathy. “They left early. In a real rush. Bags packed, car gone before sunrise. Said something about needing to be back in Melbourne.”

Ellie’s breath caught. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She stood frozen on the porch, watching the dust settle from a departure she hadn’t known was happening.

Back at home, she collapsed onto her bed.

She held the chain in her hand and looked at the black card he had thrown — something she barely understood.

Was she just a piece in someone else’s story?

“I trusted him…” she whispered. “And he left.”

Tears finally came.

And with them, a silent vow: I will never let someone make a fool of me again.

---

Back in Melbourne, the Smith mansion stood like a monument to perfection — but inside, it was anything but.

The city skyline came into view like a cold steel crown as the car cruised down the freeway. Heinrey sat in the backseat in complete silence, his fists clenched in his lap. Nora sat beside him, unmoving, her face drained of emotion. She hadn’t said a word since they left Neerim South.

The mansion loomed ahead, its tall gates opening slowly, automatically — like the world didn’t yet know everything inside was about to collapse.

The car rolled into the driveway. Heinrey stepped out first, letting the door slam shut behind him.

The house was too quiet.

When they stepped into the foyer, the scent of fresh flowers hit him — lilies. His mother’s favorite. The irony stung.

Heinrey heard faint voices from the sitting room.

Then laughter.

His mother moved like a ghost — slow and stiff — as they crossed the marble floor. The sound of their footsteps echoed like drumbeats in an empty cathedral.

And then they saw them.

Alan Smith, the patriarch. Sitting with his legs casually crossed on the family’s custom-made couch.

Beside him, Sherry Cooper — her red lipstick a shade too bright, her hand resting possessively on Alan’s knee.

And beside her… a boy.

He looked about fifteen.

His hair was slightly wavier than Heinrey’s, but the eyes — the sharpness of the jawline — they were eerily familiar.

Heinrey froze.

Nora stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching like she’d been struck in the chest.

The silence that followed wasn’t still — it vibrated.

Alan stood up slowly, as if trying to soften the confrontation.

“Nora—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, her voice splintering. “Don’t say my name like you still have the right.”

Heinrey’s eyes hadn’t moved from the boy. “Who is he?”

Sherry rose to her feet, unbothered. Confident. “This is Dylan. My son.”

Nora looked between them, confused. “Your…?”

Alan cleared his throat, guilt barely hidden behind the calm facade. “He’s my son. I— We—”

“No,” Nora whispered. She backed away a step, as if moving would take the truth away with her.

“It happened sixteen years ago,” Sherry continued, her tone sharp but controlled. “On your wedding anniversary trip. That weekend when you and I were still friends.” She glanced sideways at Nora, eyes gleaming with something bitter and triumphant. “We conceived Dylan that night. I confessed everything to Alan. That it was me who wrote him letters in college. Not you.”

Nora blinked rapidly. “What are you talking about?”

Sherry took a slow step forward. “Those love letters? The ones you thought were for you? They were for him — from me. But you intercepted them. He never knew. He chased you because you tricked him.”

“That’s not true.” Nora’s voice cracked. “I didn’t—”

“You stole everything from me,” Sherry snapped. “My scholarship. My friends. The man I loved. Even the spotlight. I was supposed to get that scholarship, but your parents pulled strings. And now—”

Alan tried to interrupt. “That’s enough—”

“No. She deserves to hear this,” Sherry snapped. “Everything you have was supposed to be mine. I waited. I stayed close. I watched you live the life that should’ve been mine. And now I’m taking it back.”

Nora’s knees gave out.

“Mom!” Heinrey caught her just before she collapsed completely.

But she was gasping now — one hand clutching her chest, eyes wild with disbelief. “You— lied— for fifteen years—?”

Alan rushed toward her. “Nora!”

“Don’t you touch me!” she screamed.

Heinrey guided her to the floor, panic rising in his throat. Her breathing became shallow, erratic.

“Call an ambulance!” he shouted.

Sherry hesitated — her confidence cracking as Nora’s lips turned blue.

Alan grabbed the phone, finally realizing this wasn’t just a dramatic scene — it was real.