AGAINST THE RULES: their scentless omega-Chapter 50: Who are you (fixed version)

Rebecca used to believe that Lucy had always been there , like the sun that rose every morning without fail.

For as long as she could remember, Lucy’s presence was stitched into every memory she owned. When she opened her eyes as a child and waddled into the living room, Lucy was already there with ribbons in her hair. At playgrounds, their mothers chatted on the benches while the two girls-built castles in the sand. Family dinners blurred together with shared laughter, shared desserts, shared birthdays. Their families were inseparable, and so, by default, they were inseparable too.

"Hey Rebecca, you wanna play house with me?" little Lucy once asked, her smile wide enough to reveal the tiny gap where her tooth had recently fallen out. She extended her small hand, bright-eyed and expectant.

Rebecca had been clutching her Barbie doll tightly, brushing its plastic hair with exaggerated care. She looked at Lucy’s hand for a moment , then slowly slipped her own into it. That was how it always began. Lucy reaching out first. Rebecca following.

And so naturally, they became friends.

Lucy was everything adults adored. She was beautiful in that effortless way children sometimes are , clear skin, neat handwriting, polite greetings. She was smart, caring, and warm. Rebecca... was none of those things, at least not in the eyes of the adults around them. Yet Lucy never seemed to mind. Lucy stayed beside her. Lucy shared her snacks. Lucy defended her when other kids whispered.

But the very difference that once felt harmless slowly grew teeth.

"Ohh, Lucy got an A plus in all her subjects as usual!" Lucy’s mother beamed one afternoon, kissing her daughter’s forehead proudly. The room filled with praise, laughter, and applause that felt endless.

Rebecca stood beside her, clutching her own report card with sweaty palms.

"C plus again, Rebecca?" her mother said, her voice sharp enough to cut through the joy in the room. Rebecca flinched. "Truly disappointing."

Lucy’s mother quickly interjected, "Oh, don’t be too harsh on her now. She’s trying her best."

"Then she should try harder," Rebecca’s mother replied coldly.

Rebecca’s eyes drifted toward Lucy. Lucy wasn’t smirking. She wasn’t gloating. She simply looked... sympathetic. And somehow, that hurt more than if she had laughed.

It wasn’t a single moment that planted the seed of resentment.

There was no dramatic turning point, no thunderclap, no single insult. It was the accumulation , the applause that was never for her, the comparisons whispered behind smiles, the way teachers said "Why can’t you be more like Lucy?" without realizing how those words burrowed into a child’s chest and made a home there.

Rebecca never knew exactly when admiration turned into bitterness.

She only knew that one day, watching Lucy receive yet another hug, another trophy, another word of praise, something inside her twisted.

I always hated Lucy, she would later admit to herself, though the truth was more complicated than hatred. It was envy dressed as anger. It was loneliness disguised as rivalry.

And from that day on, Rebecca carried a quiet, burning resolve:

She would be better. She would be seen. She would take the spotlight Lucy stood under so effortlessly.

Not because Lucy had wronged her —

but because the world had never looked at Rebecca the same way it looked at Lucy.

"I heard Lucy is getting engaged to a rich guy," Rebecca’s mother announced casually during dinner, as if she were commenting on the weather. The clinking of cutlery continued around the table, but for Rebecca, the sound seemed to dull into a distant echo.

She paused mid-bite and slowly lifted her gaze. "Engaged...?" she repeated under her breath, the word tasting bitter on her tongue.

"Yes," her mother continued, almost pleased. "Apparently it’s a contract marriage. Still, good for her. A secure future is a blessing."

Good for her.

Those three words settled heavily in Rebecca’s chest.

The resentment that had once flickered quietly now burned brighter. Even marriage , even something as personal and life-altering as love , Lucy was winning again. It didn’t matter that it was a contract, that it might not even be real. What mattered was the applause, the admiration, the way Lucy’s name once again filled the room while Rebecca sat in the background like a shadow stitched to the wall.

She always beats me. In everything.

The thought came uninvited, sharp and persistent.

On the day of the wedding, Rebecca sat among the guests dressed elegantly, her posture perfect, her smile rehearsed. To anyone watching, she looked like a supportive childhood friend witnessing a joyous union. But inside, her emotions were tangled ,jealousy coiled tightly around her heart, bitterness whispering in her ears. She watched Lucy walk down the aisle glowing in white, every eye drawn to her as if light itself followed her steps.

Rebecca clapped when everyone else clapped.

She smiled when everyone else smiled.

But none of it reached her eyes.

She told herself she would never be happy for Lucy. Not truly. Not when life kept handing Lucy victories wrapped in ribbons while she received leftovers and lectures. Yet life had a strange way of opening doors when least expected , not always the right doors, not always moral ones, but doors nonetheless.

During the reception, laughter and music filled the hall. Glasses chimed, conversations overlapped, and opportunities quietly drifted between people like invisible threads. Rebecca’s gaze wandered until it landed on him , Mr. Dastins’ brother. Composed, well-dressed, carrying the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being respected. He stood slightly apart from the crowd, observing rather than participating.

An idea formed ,reckless, impulsive, but intoxicating.

Rebecca approached him, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the weight of her own heartbeat in her ears. Then she lifted her chin, met his eyes, and spoke the words that even surprised herself.

"Marry me."

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t even affection.

It was a decision born from years of comparison, years of feeling invisible, years of wanting no, needing, to stand on equal ground. In that moment, Rebecca wasn’t just proposing a marriage. She was proposing an escape from the shadow she believed Lucy had cast over her entire life.

Back in the present, the shrill ringing of the phone cut through the silence like a blade. It lay face-up on the polished floor, its screen lighting up the dim room again and again , Unknown Caller. Rebecca stared at it from where she stood, her breath shallow, her fingers frozen at her sides. Each ring echoed louder than the last, filling the space, crawling under her skin, sending cold shivers down her spine.

For a moment she considered letting it stop on its own. Pretending it wasn’t there. Pretending none of this was happening.

But the ringing refused to die.

With trembling hands, she bent down and picked it up, her reflection faintly visible on the glass , pale, wide-eyed, and unrecognizable even to herself. She pressed "answer," her thumb nearly slipping.

"About time you answered the damn phone."

A young male voice spilled through the speaker, casual, almost amused.

Rebecca’s knees weakened instantly. The strength drained from her body as if someone had pulled a plug. She leaned back against the wall, sliding down slowly until she was sitting on the cold floor, the phone clutched tightly in her hand.

A soft chuckle came from the other end. "Still surprised? I’m sure you are. After all... it’s been many years since the incident. Even I’d be shocked if someone suddenly sent me a video like that."

Her throat went dry. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. "W-who are you?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with every syllable.

"Who am I?" he repeated, almost playfully. "That won’t be necessary, Rebecca." He said her name with unsettling familiarity. "You should be more focused on the fact that someone out there has a secret you tried so desperately to bury."

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. The footage , the hospital, the baby, Lucy, it all flashed before her eyes like a cruel slideshow she couldn’t shut off. Years of silence, years of convincing herself it was gone, erased, forgotten... shattered in a single email.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of fear.

Another laugh, quieter this time. "Relax. If I wanted to expose you, I already would have. Think of this as... a conversation between two people who now share a very interesting piece of history."

Rebecca gripped the phone tighter, her knuckles turning white. Sweat formed along her hairline despite the cold tiles beneath her. Every second he stayed silent felt like a countdown to disaster.

"You lived peacefully for so long," he continued, almost sympathetically. "A nice house, a family, a reputation. It would be such a shame if all of that... disappeared overnight."

The words wrapped around her like chains. She realized then that this wasn’t just a call. It was a leash , and he was holding the other end.

"What do you want?" she asked again, Rebecca’s voice came out sharper than she intended, desperation wrapped tightly around each word.

A low hum echoed from the other side. "Oh, Rebecca... still the business type, aren’t we? Always straight to the point. You haven’t changed at all."

"Just say what you want." Her tone hardened, but her fingers trembled around the phone, betraying her composure.

There was a pause , deliberate, calculated , the kind meant to make her imagination spiral.

"You even made Lucien and Timothy enemies," the voice continued lightly. "Poor kids. I wonder how they’d react when they find out they’re related."

Rebecca’s breath hitched. "Don’t you dare!" The words burst out of her before she could contain them. Angry tears blurred her vision. "Timothy is my child!"

A soft, amused exhale slipped through the speaker. "We’ll see if the world agrees with you once the truth comes out." He clicked his tongue. "As for what I want... hmm. I’ll decide when I find something valuable enough. In the meantime—" he chuckled, the sound crawling under her skin, "hold on tight."

The line went dead.

Rebecca remained frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear long after the call ended. The silence that followed was louder than the ringing had ever been. Slowly, her hand fell to her lap. Her reflection in the dark screen looked older, smaller , a woman cornered by the ghosts she thought she had buried decades ago.

Her mind raced. Related. The word echoed relentlessly. Images overlapped , hospital lights, crying infants, Lucy’s exhausted smile, the weight of the blanket in her arms. She had convinced herself it had been necessary. Survival. Desperation. A single decision made in a moment of panic.

But now that single decision had grown teeth.

From outside the bedroom door she could faintly hear her husband moving about the house, unaware, humming some idle tune. The normalcy of it made her chest tighten painfully. Everything looked the same. Nothing had changed.

And yet everything had.

Rebecca slowly curled forward, her shoulders shaking as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. This wasn’t just blackmail. It was a ticking clock , one she could neither see nor stop. Somewhere out there, someone held the power to unravel years of carefully stitched lies with a single click.

For the first time in a long time, Rebecca Gray felt truly afraid ,not for her reputation, not for her wealth, but for the fragile world she had built around Timothy.

Because if the truth surfaced...

it wouldn’t just destroy her.

It would destroy him too.