Chapter 1: The Lucky Charm Boy

Rachel Morgan—the girl my father brought home like a lucky penny, hoping she’d fix our fate.

Luke Brennan was born handsome, and I loved clinging to him ever since I was little. From the moment he stepped onto our estate, dark hair falling into his eyes, I sensed he was different from anyone I’d ever known.

I wielded my status like a club, doing whatever I wanted with him. Being the only daughter in one of Chicago’s wealthiest families had its perks, and I never hesitated to use them.

Until one afternoon, words began floating in the air like flickering TV captions:

[Can this villain girl stop stalking the main guy? She’s totally delusional—he looks at her like she’s a bug on his shoe.]

[She’s always humiliating the leads! No wonder the guy can’t wait to ditch the Morgans and reclaim his real life in D.C.!]

My brain moved in slow motion. The words hovered there, surreal and taunting.

I thought about asking Luke Brennan if he saw them too.

But I stumbled on his conversation with a bodyguard in the west wing:

"Should you tell the Morgans who you really are before you leave for D.C.?"

"No need."

Luke’s eyes dropped, his voice icy: "Send them a hundred grand. After that, I’m done with the Morgans." He sounded like a CEO finalizing a bad deal.

That’s when it hit me—too late to change anything.

Luke Brennan is the main guy.

And I’m just the mean girl side character—the one everyone hates, the one whose family ends up destroyed.

---

I was still clutching Luke Brennan’s medallion, its cool metal warming against my palm. The engraved surface was smooth, worn down from years of his touch.

He’d worn it since he was a kid, always fiddling with it like a worry stone whenever he was deep in thought.

Today, for some reason, it had landed in the muddy garden bed—right under Mom’s heritage roses. It had been stepped on more than once; muddy footprints surrounded it.

My chest twisted. I carefully wiped it clean and set out to return it to Luke. The October wind rattled the porch swing, and somewhere, a Cubs game blared from a gardener’s radio.

I also wanted a little credit. Maybe even one of those rare, lopsided smiles he gave when he was genuinely happy.

But when I arrived, I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to.

"Who’s there!"

Before I could react, the man in a black suit standing near Luke spun around, voice sharp and wary. His hand hovered near his holster—a Glock, standard for private security around here.

I froze. Muscles locked. I felt like a deer caught in headlights.

I was about to step out, heart pounding, when someone beat me to it.

"I—I didn’t mean to."

Sarah Winters limped out from behind the gazebo, blonde hair tangled and dirt-smudged. She looked like she’d just crawled through the hedges.

Her face was flushed with guilt. "I just wanted to thank Mr. Brennan. Also, Mr. Brennan, don’t worry—I’ll help you find the medallion!" Her voice quivered, her big blue eyes darting between them.

As soon as Sarah appeared, the floating words changed:

[Omg the sweet girl and the mysterious guy—literal perfection!]

[He’s just a lucky charm boy forced into this, the Morgans are total villains!]

[It’s just a medallion! If the female lead smiles, he’d give her his life!]

They didn’t even notice me, like I was scenery—just a prop in their love story.

I soon learned the real reason the medallion was lost: Sarah had been bitten by Old Max, our German Shepherd, and in the chaos, Luke dropped his medallion while protecting her.

A heavy ache settled in my chest, as if someone had lined it with stones.

I wanted to yell at those invisible voices. I’d never humiliated Sarah—not once. And I’d known Luke for twelve years, three months, and sixteen days. I knew what that medallion meant to him.

He’d never taken it off, not for swimming, not for sleep, not even when he was burning up with fever at fourteen.

He once whispered, when he thought I was asleep, that he had important things left to do. He wasn’t the type to give his life away for anyone.

Everything those words said was wrong—

"It’s fine."

Luke’s cold voice snapped me back.

I looked up. From here, I could just make out his face—shadows across sharp features in the late sun.

He sighed. "Have you treated your wound yet?"

"No, not yet..."

Sarah’s cheeks flamed pink. But she bit her lip, eyes darting, then blurted, "I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But, Mr. Brennan, could you please take me with you to D.C.? I’ll pay my own way, I promise—just let me come with you."

Sarah wanted to go to D.C. with Luke?

My stomach dropped. I pressed my nails into my palm, desperate not to show how much it hurt.

I tried to convince myself Luke would never agree. He kept his life so private, he wouldn’t even tell me—his supposed childhood companion—about his plans.

But I watched as the bodyguard started toward Sarah, only to stop when Luke raised his hand. He paused, and for a second, I thought I saw him almost smile.

His voice lost its usual chill: "...Alright."

I couldn’t see his face clearly. The sun turned him into a silhouette, but the word echoed in my ears.

Disappointment, sadness, and jealousy crushed my chest, leaving nothing but ache. I bolted, heels clattering on the stone path.

And I realized: maybe the words in the air had been right all along.