Chapter 1: The Second Sister
Ophira's POV
It's barely 7 a.m., and already the house is chaos. Again.
I'm halfway through brushing my hair when I hear it—Reese yelling from the hallway.
"Where's my clothes?"
Someone slams a door.
"Reese, where is Paicey?"
And then Yasha, clearly annoyed, calls out, "Valerie! Your paints got into my clothes again!"
"Ophira, did you already cook breakfast"
I roll my eyes and shout back, "No, I didn't cook breakfast—Bailey's turn!"
"No, it's Gaia's turn now!" Bailey chimes in.
"Oh yeah, it's mine. Sorry," Gaia says, not sounding sorry at all.
I sigh and glance down at my uniform. It's a miracle I kept it clean this week. Between Valerie's paints and Yasha's hair products, I'm constantly fighting for laundry survival.
Outside, I can hear voices drifting in through the window.
"They're so noisy in the morning again," a neighbor grumbles.
"Yeah, every day and every night," another replies.
I know we're loud. It's inevitable when there are seven of us—nine if you count our parents, who are barely at home.
Fifteen if you also count the other pets: Reese's hamster, my dog, Yasha's moody cat, Bailey's delicate fish, Valerie's clingy monkey, and Paicey's hyperactive songbirds. Sometimes it feels like we're running a zoo and a boarding school all in one.
But even with all the madness, the neighbors don't really mind us. With how much we contributed to the society.
Reese keeps the family company running like a pro and donates half of it to charity. My winnings from the Olympics go straight to the orphanage. Yasha, Bailey, Valerie—they all do their part. Even little Paicey draws crowds with her voice at our events.
We may be noisy, but we're not just noise. We're the Laurier sisters. And as the front door swings open and we spill out, one by one in our matching uniforms, I feel that usual swell of pride.
We're messy. Loud. Unstoppable.
And we're a team.
The ride to school was its usual blur of bickering, hair-fixing, and last-minute cramming. We pulled up to the gates like a chaotic parade, the seven of us pouring out of the car with practiced disarray.
It's always like this. Some students stop to stare—others are used to it by now. I spot a few whispers, some phones sneakily raised to take pictures. Happens every day when you're part of the infamous Seven Sisters. But we're too used to it to care.
"English," Reese mutters beside me, adjusting her bag strap as she starts walking toward the main building. Yasha's already texting someone, probably her manager, as she falls into step beside Reese.
"Don't forget you have that thing later," Gaia reminds me as she starts off in the opposite direction. Probably means the interview. Or maybe it's my nutrition check. I forget.
"Got it," I nod. Then, throwing my gym bag over my shoulder, I break off toward the gym.
We don't really say goodbye—we never have to. There's a rhythm to us, even in the split.
The triplets head to the east building, chattering to themselves. Bailey always walks in the middle, Paicey bouncing beside her like an actual pop star, and Valerie already sketching something in her notebook as she walks.
Meanwhile, I push through the gym doors, letting the heavy scent of floor polish and old sweat hit me like a comfort blanket. This is my space. My escape. The court is empty for now, just the echo of my footsteps and the soft bounce of the ball in my hand.
Different classes, different halls, different paths.
But we always start—and end—together.
After I split off from my sisters, I headed straight for the girls' locker room. Our basketball practice was scheduled right after this, and since the boys didn't have practice today, the court was all ours. For once, no yelling, no jostling for space, just pure game time.
I started unbuttoning my blouse, half-focused, half-tired, when something caught my eye.
A glint of red light.
I narrowed my eyes. It was small, tucked into the far corner. I walked over and picked it up—tiny, sleek, and barely noticeable. But I knew exactly what it was.
A hidden camera.
My stomach turned. My jaw clenched. And without a second thought, I crushed it in my palm.
The girls looked at me like I'd just grown horns. I didn't even explain. I stormed out, adrenaline burning through my veins, fists tight, heart racing. Some of them followed, but I didn't stop. I marched straight into the boys' locker room and slammed the door open hard enough to rattle the wall.
"You're not even supposed to be here," I snapped. "Boys' basketball has no practice today."
They froze.
"This came from you, didn't it?" I held up the crushed camera. Just in time to see them trying to hide a laptop. The feed. Caught.
"You crushed it?! You barbaric woman!" one of them yelled, stepping toward me like he was about to throw a punch.
Fine. Let him.
I squared my stance, ready to fight if I had to—but his hand never made it. A bigger hand stopped it mid-air.
"What do you think you're doing?" a familiar, steady voice said.
I didn't even need to look.
Ozaire Ezra Elrod.
Captain of the boys' team. My longtime crush. The guy who makes my heart stutter even when I'm mid-sprint. Yeah, I'm tough. Boyish. A little aggressive. But around him? I'm a puddle pretending to be solid ground.
"Didn't I tell you we didn't have practice today?" he asked his teammates, stepping in front of me, shielding me.
Then he turned to me. "What are you doing here, Miss Laurier?"
God, why Miss Laurier? Can't he just say Ophira? Or... something cuter?
I cleared my throat. "I found this in the girls' locker room." I held up the busted device. He glanced at my hand—then at my chest. My confused expression shifted into horror.
Oh no.
I never finished buttoning my shirt.
"Did you walk in here looking like this?" he asked, voice low.
I was about to cover myself when his hands—rough, calloused, but careful—reached up and started buttoning my blouse for me. One by one. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
He wasn't even looking at my body. Just the buttons.
And his face...
If my teammates hadn't started giggling behind me, I might've melted right there. They scurried off, laughing, teasing, and I glared daggers at their backs.
"You didn't have to do that," I muttered, shielding my torso with my arms.
He didn't answer. Just said, like none of that happened, "So what's the problem here?"
I told him. Straight up. Hidden camera. In our locker room. And these three were behind it.
He turned to them. "What do you have to say about this?"
"She's delusional," one of them scoffed. "Barged in here screaming and accusing us."
"You—" I stepped forward, about to swing, but Ozaire stepped between us.
"Miss Laurier, do you have any evidence the camera belonged to them?"
I froze.
I wanted to scream. I thought he had my back.
I tsked and rolled my eyes. "Their laptop. It has the video feed. Check it."
Reluctantly, the boys handed it over. Ozaire opened it. His face changed. He blinked. Then he closed the laptop halfway, like he couldn't stand to look.
"What? Is the feed there?" I asked, already moving forward.
He didn't answer, so I took the laptop. Opened it.
And almost dropped it.
A zoomed-in image of a girl's chest stared back at me.
Mine.
My skin crawled as I unzoomed, flipped through folders, and found more.
Not just of me.
My sisters.
All seven of us.
"You're stalking me?" I whispered, horrified. "You're... fantasizing about me and my sisters?!"
They didn't say a word. Couldn't even look at me.
I didn't wait.
I ran straight to the Dean's office, laptop in hand. Showed her everything. Those three got called in—and suspended.
"Hope that teaches you a lesson," I said, smirking as I walked out.
Ozaire was waiting outside. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, like he wanted to say something. Maybe explain. Maybe apologize.
I shrugged it off.
Did I want to be comforted by him?
Yes.
Did I feel betrayed that he didn't back me up from the start?
Absolutely.
I walked away without a word, heading back to the locker room.
Right now, I just needed to breathe.