Elena's POV
Oh God, is this the one I fucked
Which twin was in the hotel room? Which one saved me? Which one am I supposed to be afraid of?
The room goes dead quiet. Fred looks surprised. Victoria looks furious. And Thomas finally looks directly at me for the first time since entering the room. In fact since the day of the quad!?
I wonder to myself, if he was the twin I slept with, when he looks at me, does he see me naked? When he licks his lips, does he taste my cunt?
"Miss Hayes," Fred interrupts my thoughts, and I hear how careful he sounds. "You want to debate Thomas on this topic?" more like a warning.
"Yes."
"Are you sure? This is your first meeting and Thomas is our most experienced…"
"I'm sure."
Fred glances at Thomas, who just gives a slight nod.
"Okay then. Thomas, you'll argue against price caps. Elena, you'll argue for them. Ten minutes to prepare. Then five-minute opening statements, rebuttals, and closing arguments."
I pull out my laptop and start typing notes. My hands are shaking but my mind is clear. I spent all night researching Blackwell Industries' pharmaceutical division. I know their pricing strategies, their profit margins, their political lobbying efforts. In fact, his family is corrupt.
I know where Thomas is vulnerable.
Ten minutes pass too fast, I almost crashed out.
Fred calls us to the front. Thomas and I stand at opposite podiums. I feel my heart racing. Victoria is glaring at me from the front row. The rest of the room watches with the kind of anticipation that says I an doomed
"Thomas, you'll go first," Fred says.
Thomas doesn't need notes. Scary. He speaks smoothly, confidently. He is smart. Too smart!
His argument is polished. Practiced. I can see he's made these points a hundred times before.
He talks about how new ideas need profit. Drug research costs many billions. Government rules hurt competition and slow making of life-saving medicines. The free market works better than official interference.
Then it's my turn.
"Thomas makes compelling points about innovation," I start. "But he's operating under the assumption that pharmaceutical companies price drugs based on research costs and reasonable profit margins. The reality is very different," I like the way I sound
I pull up a graph on my laptop and project it on the screen behind me.
"Insulin. Discovered over a hundred years ago. Production costs about six dollars per vial. But companies charge over three hundred dollars in the United States. That's not innovation pricing. That's exploitation."
I watch Thomas's face. Still calm. Still controlled. I hate it. He should start going red. I need to go lower, dirty
"Let's talk about Blackwell Industries specifically," I continue. "Your family's pharmaceutical division raised the price of EpiPens by six hundred percent over five years. Not because production costs increased. Not because of new research. Because they could. Because people who need EpiPens will pay anything or die. That is exploitation in broad day light"
Now I have hit a nerve. Murmurs runs through the room. Victoria's face has gone red. But Thomas doesn't react. Why doesn't he ever react!?
"Free markets work when consumers have choice," I say. "But people dying of anaphylaxis don't have choice. People with diabetes don't have choice. They pay or they die. That's not a market. That's hostage-taking."
Still no reaction from Thomas. I go harder.
I go through more examples. More data. Companies that spend more on lobbying and marketing than on research. CEO bonuses that increase while patients ration insulin and die. I go round, but I focus most on the Blackwells
When I finish, the room is silent.
Fred nods to Thomas. "Rebuttal?"
Thomas steps forward. "Miss Hayes makes emotional arguments, but emotion doesn't create sustainable healthcare systems…"
He's good. Really good. But I notice something. He's deflecting. Not actually addressing the specific examples I raised about price gouging.
My rebuttal focuses on that. "Thomas talks about rare diseases, but the drugs being price-gouged are common medications. Insulin. EpiPens. Asthma inhalers. These aren't experimental treatments. They're established drugs with minimal production costs being sold at extortionate prices."
We go back and forth. I make his family look responsible for people dying because they can't afford medication.
And then I make my final move.
"Thomas argues that regulation kills innovation. But Blackwell Industries spends three times more on stock buybacks,executive compensation and lifestyle than on drug research. That's not innovation funding. That's wealth extraction. And when a single family profits while thousands die rationing insulin, that's not a free market success story. That's a moral failure."
I sit down. I feel as Thomas's eyes burn into my face. I catch a glimpse at him. He is still not red. I wonder if I made him feel foolish or not.
The room is completely silent.
Fred looks nervous. "Okay. Well. That was… intense. Let's vote. Anonymous ballot. Who presented the stronger case?"
He passes out slips of paper. People vote quickly, glancing at Thomas like they're afraid he'll see their ballots.
Fred collects them and counts. His expression gets more uncomfortable with each vote.
"Elena wins," he finally says. "Fifteen to twelve."
The room erupts in whispers. Victoria stands up like she's going to say something, but Thomas puts a hand on her arm and she sits back down.
Thomas walks over to where I'm packing up my laptop. Up close, he's even more intimidating. I don't have the nerve to look him directly in his eyes.
"That was impressive," he says.
I wait for the threat. The warning. The consequences.
Instead, he smiles. It's a real smile, not the polished public one. " I looked foolish. Next time I won't go easy on you."
Then he walks out.
"Foolish?" I repeat as he leaves. Is he the one behind the burner phone? How come he used the same term as the sender?
I stand there, confused and unbalanced by the interaction. I almost run after him to ask him questions. I need to know! Was he the one I slept with? Is he the sender? But when I remember what happened in the quad, I hold back. I do not want to embarrass myself a second time.
Victoria storms past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. "Stay away from him," she hisses. " I will pluck out your eyes very soon."
The room empties quickly. I'm gathering my things and I think about Maya.
Where is she? I have been ignoring her messages and now I am feeling guilty about it. I remember how she drove ten hours just to be with me in this place. We had fun at the night of the party before everything went haywire. She was not supposed to attend the party because she was not a student, but we got a fake ID for her and she came along with me. Everything was going well until I started feeling dizzy. I couldn't find her. I knew I was drugged, and I needed us to be together. I was worried that she was drugged too. I started to look for her and I got cornered by a group of boys who wanted to sexually assault me. That was when someone came in from nowhere, one of the Blackwell twins. The boys were scared of him, especially when he threatened their family with bankruptcy by the next morning. He took me to his room and…
"Hi!" I suddenly noticed three students approaching . Two guys and a girl, all looking friendly instead of hostile. They cut me off from my thoughts, but finally, real human beings on this campus.
"That was amazing," the girl says. She's Latina, pretty, with sharp eyes. "I'm Olivia Santos. These are David Dae-hyun and Ethan Rivers."
Ethan is tall with sandy brown hair and an open, honest face. David is Korean-American, wearing glasses and a black t-shirt.
Ethan catches my attention quickly. He looks like a kind of guy I want to be my friend.
"You just did what no one's had the guts to do in two years," David says. "Challenge Thomas Blackwell."
"And win," Olivia adds. "That part's important."
Ethan grins. "We're starting a study group. Scholarship students, working-class kids, people who actually earned their way here. You interested?"
I look at the three of them. They seem genuine. Kind. Like maybe they could actually be friends.
"Yes," I hear myself say. "I'm interested."
"Great." Olivia pulls out her phone. "Give me your number. We meet in the library every night around seven. Bring coffee and lower your expectations for the snacks. David only buys the cheap stuff."
"It's about value," David protests.
"Yeah, and we call ourselves 'The Broken Pieces,' David's idea by the way," Ethan chimes
"The broken pieces?" I laugh. "What kind of name is that?"
"The kind David comes up with," Olivia snorts playfully
"Oh come on!" David says defensively. "We all agreed it was a brilliant name for a friend group. We are that group broken out of the norm of being extremely rich in this college "
For the first time since arriving at Ashford, I feel something like hope.
We exchange numbers and make plans to meet tomorrow. As they leave, Ethan hangs back for a second.
"Hey," he says quietly. "Elena, about the quad that day, I believe you…"
He trails off, looking genuinely concerned.
"Thank you," I manage.
He nods and leaves.
I'm alone in the debate room. I pull out the burner phone.
New message. Task complete. Well done. You're more interesting than I expected. Next assignment in 72 hours.