Steve gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down the side of his face as he executed a complex string of combat maneuvers. His avatar in the private training sim moved with precision, slashing through AI-generated enemies as if he could physically cut through the frustration weighing him down.

  His HUD flashed "Combat Score: 98.4% Efficiency" in the corner of his vision. Almost perfect. But it didn’t feel like enough.

  Not when Sarah wouldn’t even talk to him.

  “Again,” he muttered, resetting the scenario.

  The AI enemies materialized, rushing toward him in perfect formation. Steve moved faster this time, coding mid-fight to adapt his attack algorithms. His focus was razor-sharp—until a familiar voice interrupted his concentration.

  “That looks like aggression coding, McCall,” Professor Jansen remarked dryly from the observation platform above. “Are we working out some personal issues today?”

  Steve barely hesitated, his fingers dancing over his keyboard as he executed another chain of attacks. “Just training.”

  Jansen leaned on the railing, watching the battle unfold. “I assume this has nothing to do with the fact that Sarah Daniger hasn’t been in class for two days?”

  Steve’s hands froze on the keyboard—just for a fraction of a second—but it was enough. The AI enemies exploited the pause, overwhelming his defenses and landing a brutal strike. His avatar’s health bar plummeted to zero.

  "DEFEAT."

  Steve exhaled, flexing his fingers as if shaking off the loss. He removed his VR visor and turned to Jansen, feigning nonchalance. “She just needs time.”

  Jansen wasn’t buying it. “You sure about that?”

  Steve hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. She hasn’t responded to anything. No texts, no calls. But I’ve seen her log into Another Life’s mobile chat app, so I know she’s okay.”

  Jansen sighed, crossing his arms. “You and I both know that doesn’t mean she’s okay.”

  Steve’s stomach twisted. He knew. God, he knew.

  “She’s not just avoiding me,” he admitted, voice quiet. “She’s shutting down.”

  Jansen studied him for a moment before nodding toward the training interface. “Then you better get ready, McCall. Because if I know Sarah, she’s not gonna stay down for long. And when she comes back? She’ll be coming back to win.”

  Steve clenched his jaw. “Yeah. I know.”

  For three days, Sarah barely existed. She ignored her phone. Ignored her email. Ignored the world. The apartment around her had become a reflection of her mind—messy, dark, cluttered with things she didn’t want to deal with. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink. Clothes piled in random corners. The curtains stayed drawn, shutting out the Los Angeles sun.

  She told herself she was just processing. But deep down, she knew. She was avoiding.

  Avoiding Steve.

  Avoiding Mackiaveli.

  Avoiding the competition.

  Avoiding the fact that she had no way to pay for the class.

  Her hands clenched into fists as she sat on the couch, staring blankly at the floor. This was her last shot at making it in the gaming industry. Her last chance to prove she could do this. And it was slipping through her fingers. She had trusted Steve. Had believed in Mackiaveli.

  Had let herself hope. And it was all a lie. Her throat tightened as a tear slipped down her cheek. She furiously wiped it away, shaking her head. No. She wasn’t going to cry over this. Over him. Over anything. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the chaos in her mind.

  Her gaze drifted toward her VR rig. The competition was in a week. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting. But just as she was about to force herself off the couch—

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  Sarah jumped, heart slamming against her ribs.

  Another knock—louder this time. And then—

  “NATALIE DANIGER, IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

  Sarah froze.

  Oh Shit! Natalie.

  She barely had time to react before her best friend busted through the door like a force of nature, holding a squirming toddler on one hip and glaring at Sarah like she was about to strangle her.

  “Bet you forgot I have a key.” Behind her, two kids—both under ten—immediately started inspecting Sarah’s apartment with wide eyes.

  “Damn, Sarah,” one of them said, wrinkling his nose. “This place is a mess.”

  Sarah groaned. “Jesus, Carter, shut up.”

  “I told you!” the other one—Emma, Natalie’s oldest—gasped dramatically. “Auntie Sarah’s turning into a hermit!”

  Sarah wanted to die. Natalie ignored all of them and set the toddler down before leveling Sarah with a stare that could melt steel.

  “Explain,” Natalie demanded, arms crossed.

  Sarah sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “Nat—”

  “No. No ‘Nat.’ You disappeared. You ignored my calls. You ignored my texts. You made me come all the way down here, with three children, to check on you. So start talking before I lose my patience.”

  Sarah pressed her lips together, swallowing hard. “I… just needed some space.”

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”

  Sarah flinched.

  Natalie’s expression softened, just a little. “What happened?”

  Sarah inhaled shakily. She didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to admit it out loud. But Natalie had always been able to see through her. So, quietly, brokenly, Sarah whispered—

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I can’t afford the class.”

  Natalie stilled.

  Sarah let out a shaky breath. “They won’t cover it. I was filed under my parents’ taxes. They make too much. Financial aid denied me.”

  Natalie frowned. “Wait—what?”

  Sarah clenched her jaw. “I can’t pay for it. And if I can’t pay for it… I can’t compete.”

  For a long moment, Natalie didn’t say anything. Then—

  “Okay.”

  Sarah blinked. “Okay?”

  Natalie shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So we find another way.”

  Sarah let out a bitter laugh. “There is no other way.”

  Natalie scoffed. “Oh, please. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you don’t quit.”

  Sarah’s throat tightened. Natalie’s voice softened. “Sarah. You’ve fought too damn hard to get here. You deserve to be in this competition. You deserve this chance.”

  Sarah’s eyes burned.

  “But I—”

  “No.” Natalie shook her head. “No ‘buts.’ You are not giving up. Not today. Not ever.”

  Sarah closed her eyes. And for the first time in days—She let herself breathe. Natalie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Now, get your ass in the shower while Carter and Emma help me clean up this disaster zone.”

  Sarah let out a choked laugh. “You’re really just going to invade my house and start cleaning?”

  Natalie smirked. “Damn right I am. Now move.”

  Sarah hesitated. Then—slowly—she nodded. She wasn’t okay. Not yet. But maybe, just maybe—She could fight her way back. Starting now. Sarah had three days.

  Three days to prepare.

  Three days to train.

  Three days to burn everything that hurt her into fuel for the competition.

  And she wasn’t going to waste a second of it. The old Sarah was gone. The girl who second-guessed herself, who let others dictate her emotions, who let a man—no, two men—pull her into a tangled mess of confusion? Dead. In her place stood someone new.

  A Sarah who knew what she wanted.

  A Sarah who was coming for everything she deserved.

  A Sarah who wasn’t here to play nice anymore.

  And if Mackiaveli, Mack, Steve—whoever the hell he wanted to be today—thought she was going to roll over and cry about it? He had another thing coming. Sarah took a deep breath, flexing her fingers over her keyboard as her private training sim loaded. The virtual void spread before her—an endless, silent battlefield where her code reigned supreme.

  She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders. Time to get to work. The first round of enemy NPCs materialized before her—sleek humanoid figures, faceless and relentless, their AI designed for maximum aggression. Sarah wasted no time.

  Her HUD flashed to life, her combat scripts already prepped. She activated Siphon Strike, her custom-coded ability that converted enemy damage into healing for herself. She wasn’t just fighting. She was learning. Every hit she took, every dodge she missed, every counter she landed—all being logged, analyzed, adjusted.

  She pushed herself harder than she ever had. And when her first private training session ended with a near-perfect efficiency score? She just grinned and started the next round. Her phone buzzed just as she collapsed onto her couch, completely drained from training.

  Natalie.

  She smirked, swiping to answer.

  “Are you still alive, or did you code yourself into oblivion?” Natalie teased.

  “Barely alive,” Sarah admitted, rubbing her eyes.

  “You sound like trash,” Natalie snorted.

  “Thanks, love the support.”

  “You know I’m right,” Natalie replied smugly. “So, how’s the training going?”

  Sarah sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I hate that I’ve spent the past three days in full rage mode over all this… but honestly? It’s helping.”

  Natalie hummed. “Good. Use it. Channel that anger, that betrayal, all of it—make it fuel.”

  Sarah exhaled, closing her eyes. “I will.”

  Just then, a tiny voice piped up in the background.

  “Auntie Sarah!”

  Sarah grinned instantly. “Hey, Bug!”

  It was Natalie’s three-year-old, Kai, his voice full of excitement.

  “You didn’t call me!” Kai accused dramatically. “I missed you!”

  Sarah laughed. “I missed you too, buddy.”

  “Mommy says you fighting,” Kai declared, his tiny voice dead serious.

  Sarah snorted. “I guess you could say that.”

  “You gonna win?”

  Sarah smiled, something in her heart clenching at the question.

  “I’m gonna try, little man.”

  Kai gasped, offended. “TRY?!”

  Natalie was already laughing.

  “Auntie Sarah, you gotta win! I told my dinosaurs you was gonna win!”

  Sarah choked on a laugh. “Your dinosaurs?”

  “Yeah! They wanna watch!”

  Sarah grinned, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Well, I can’t let your dinosaurs down, can I?”

  “Nope!” Kai declared.

  “Then I guess I gotta win,” Sarah said.

  Kai cheered.

  Natalie snorted. “See? Even my three-year-old knows what’s up.”

  Sarah laughed, shaking her head. “Fine. I’ll win.”

  Natalie’s voice softened. “Damn right you will.”

  The next day started, and Sarah immediately began training after Yoga.

  Morning: Coding.

  Afternoon: Combat drills.

  Evening: More coding.

  Sarah ate while coding to keep up her strength but barely slept. She tweaked every line of script until it was flawless. She reworked her combat strategy until it was second nature. The virtual void was her world now. And she refused to lose.

  Natalie called again, just as Sarah was about to pass out on her keyboard.

  “You alive, or do I need to send a rescue team?”

  Sarah groaned. “Barely.”

  “I figured,” Natalie mused. “So, are you an unstoppable killing machine yet?”

  Sarah snorted. “I don’t know about that. But I’m ready.”

  There was a pause. Then, softly—

  “You’re really gonna do this, huh?”

  Sarah swallowed.

  “I have to.”

  Natalie’s voice was gentle. “Not because of him. Right?”

  Sarah closed her eyes. For a moment, she thought about Steve. About Mackiaveli. About everything. Then she thought about her dreams.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not because of him. Because of me.”

  Natalie smiled through the phone. “That’s my girl.”

  Sarah’s hands flew across her keyboard, finalizing her last set of scripts. She had spent three days rebuilding herself. Reworking her code. Reworking her strategy. Reworking who she was.

  Now?

  Now she was ready. She activated her final training session, launching herself into one last battle. Her movements were precise. Her attacks were ruthless. Her mind was clear. And when she landed the final devastating blow—her HUD flashing with victory—she exhaled.

  She had done it. She was back. And no one—not Steve, not Mackiaveli, not anyone—was going to stop her. As she collapsed onto her bed, Sarah barely had the energy to lift her phone when it rang. She answered without looking. Natalie’s voice greeted her.

  “So. You ready?”

  Sarah smirked.

  “Oh, I’m beyond ready.”

  Natalie laughed. “Good. Because tomorrow? You remind them who the hell you are.”

  Sarah’s eyes burned with determination.

  “I will.”

  And she meant it. Sarah stood before the mirror. For the first time in days, she saw herself. Not the broken girl who had walked away from Steve. Not the confused player who had once been afraid. No. She saw a warrior. She saw Dani. And Dani wasn’t here to lose.

  He thinks he knows me. He doesn’t. Not anymore.

  She smirked, grabbed her gear, and said out loud.

  “It’s time!”

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.