Stacey checked her phone for the third time—6:30 PM, and Betty still wasn't back from detention. A triumphant smirk spread across her perfect features. Her little stepsister was probably still crying somewhere, completely humiliated after this morning's presentation disaster.
Good, Stacey thought, pushing open Betty's bedroom door. Maybe now she'll finally learn her place.
The room was exactly what she'd expected—cramped, cluttered with textbooks, and painfully ordinary. Stacey wrinkled her nose at the secondhand furniture and cheap decorations. How could anyone live like this?
Her eyes landed on Betty's laptop, still open on the desk. Stacey couldn't resist. She'd always wondered what went on in her weird stepsister's head.
The screen was locked, asking for a password. Stacey tried a few obvious ones—"password," "123456"—before having a thought. She typed in Betty's birthday.
The desktop appeared.
"Stupid, gullible ugly duck," Stacey muttered with satisfaction.
She opened the browser and immediately found what she was looking for—Betty's secret blog folder. Video files, photo files, all neatly organized. Stacey's eyebrows rose as she clicked through them.
There were the usual pathetic diary entries about not fitting in, about wanting to be pretty. But then Stacey found the photos from just yesterday—Betty in her underwear, trying different poses, looking vulnerable and desperate.
Stacey's eyes lit up. This was perfect. This was exactly what she needed.
She quickly transferred the photos to her phone, her mind already spinning with possibilities. Betty would do anything to keep these from getting out.
The front door slammed downstairs. Betty was home.
Stacey didn't bother closing the laptop or trying to hide what she was doing. She simply leaned back in Betty's desk chair and waited.
Footsteps on the stairs. The bedroom door opened.
"What are you doing in my room?" Betty's voice was sharp with exhaustion and suspicion.
Stacey turned slowly, her expression innocent. "Nothing. Just reading your blog." She gestured casually at the laptop screen. "Got quite horrified at those naked photos of yours... which I copied to my phone."
Betty went white. "You what?"
"You really should use a better password, sis." Stacey held up her phone, showing Betty one of the photos. "Though I have to say, even with good lighting, you're still pretty tragic."
"Delete it," Betty said, her voice shaking. "Delete it right now."
Stacey stood up slowly, enjoying every second of Betty's panic. "You know, I figured it wouldn't be too hard to get rid of you in my life, but I didn't imagine it'd be this easy."
Her laughter was cold and cruel.
"Stay away from Marcus," Stacey said, stepping closer to Betty, "or this gets leaked... sis."
Betty stared at her in horror. "You can't—"
"Oh, but I can. And I will." Stacey brushed past her toward the door. "Sweet dreams, Betty."
***
The next day at school, Marcus noticed immediately that something was wrong. Betty avoided his eyes in the hallway, took a different route to classes, and practically ran whenever she saw him coming.
By lunch, his patience was gone.
He found her trying to slip past the science wing and cornered her in an empty classroom, blocking the door with his body.
"Have you been avoiding me, braceface?"
Betty's eyes were red-rimmed, like she'd been crying all night. "I have bigger problems than you."
She tried to push past him, but Marcus caught her arm, pulling her back.
"What problems?"
That's when Betty completely broke down. The tears she'd been holding back all day came flooding out, and she collapsed into one of the desk chairs, sobbing.
"Betty, what happened?" Marcus knelt beside her, genuine concern in his voice.
Through her tears, Betty told him everything. About Stacey finding her laptop, about the photos, about the blackmail. She was so ashamed she could barely get the words out.
"She has pictures of me," Betty whispered. "I was... I wasn't wearing much. I was just trying to figure out if I could be pretty, if I could be sexy, and now she's going to ruin my life."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, processing what she'd told him.
"I haven't seen them," he said finally, his voice low. "But Betty, look at me."
She reluctantly met his eyes.
"You are beautiful," he said, and something in his tone made her breath catch. "You don't need to try to be anything. You already are."
The way he was looking at her—intense, hungry, like he meant every word—made Betty's heart race.
"Marcus..." she whispered.
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "Stacey can't control you. Don't let her win."
The space between them seemed to disappear. Marcus leaned in, and this time, Betty didn't run.
Their lips met softly at first, tentative and sweet. But then Betty's hands found the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened. Marcus's arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her onto the desk as his mouth moved against hers with increasing urgency.
Betty had never been kissed like this—like she was wanted, like she was precious. Marcus's hands tangled in her hair, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed closer.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. Marcus rested his forehead against hers, his dark eyes intense.
"Don't let her scare you away from me," he whispered. "Promise me."
Betty nodded, still dizzy from the kiss, from the feeling of being in his arms.
She had no idea she was playing right into his hands.