Right before I left for the States, Tifani’s stunt confirmed everything I had feared. She’d always craved attention, but this time she crossed a line that would forever tarnish our family’s reputation. The news broke like wildfire—Tifani, the picture-perfect daughter, was dating a criminal. Not just any criminal, either. This man had a history, one that the press would devour, and worse—she was pregnant.

The scandal erupted almost immediately. Whispers of the Kumo-Astrino name falling from grace spread like wildfire across town, and soon, reporters were swarming outside our home. Headlines screamed the story, splashing our family’s downfall across every tabloid in the region: "Heiress of the Kumo-Astrino Dynasty Pregnant by Notorious Gang Leader!"

It wasn’t just the pregnancy or the criminal connection. It was the way Tifani basked in the attention. She was everywhere—posing for paparazzi, giving coy answers to interviews, and reveling in the media frenzy. The once pristine image of our family was collapsing in real-time, and she loved every second of it.

Reika’s words haunted me: "The fall will be spectacular." Now, I understand. This wasn’t just about the family losing credibility. Tifani was orchestrating a spectacle that would leave an indelible mark, something the public wouldn’t forget. And by the time I was able to return, it would be too late.

I watched helplessly as the media tore into every piece of our lives, dredging up old rumors, creating new ones, and twisting every word anyone in the family said. No one was safe from their scrutiny, not even my parents, whose pristine image had protected them for so long. And Reika? She was eerily quiet through it all, never directly in the spotlight but always there, watching from the shadows, her hands no doubt manipulating everything behind the scenes.

As I boarded the plane to the States, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all crashing down. I was walking away from a battlefield, leaving behind the wreckage of my family’s legacy, not knowing if there would be anything left when I returned. Tifani and Reika were winning, and I didn’t know how to stop them.

But one thing was clear: by the time I came back, I would need a plan. Something bigger than whatever they were scheming. Because if I didn’t, the Kumo-Astrino name wouldn’t just be a headline—it would be a memory.

The last thing I saw before I left was the headline blaring across the airport newsstands: "The Heiress and the Gangster: The Beginning of the Kumo-Astrino Dynasty's Downfall."

This was only the beginning.

When I arrived to the states Summer was super nice to me,her new-york accent as strong as ever."Yuki!You've gotten so big!I'm so glad your dad sent you here with the stunt your sister is pulling back home," Summer exclaimed, wrapping me in a tight hug. Her New York accent hit my ears like a comforting reminder of simpler times, back when everything felt less complicated. But even her warmth couldn’t shake the reality of the mess I’d left behind.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” I mumbled, trying to sound casual. But inside, my thoughts were spinning. The headlines, the scandal, Tifani’s smug face—everything was happening so fast, and here I was, far away from the chaos, feeling both relieved and guilty at the same time.

Summer pulled back, studying my face. “I heard what’s going on, and I gotta say, your sister knows how to make a splash.” She gave a half-hearted chuckle, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. “But you? You’re not here to deal with that. You’re here to clear your head.”

I nodded, grateful for her understanding. The last thing I wanted was to dive back into the family drama while I was supposed to be escaping it. “I just... needed to get away,” I said softly, feeling a lump in my throat. "Before things get worse."

Summer nodded, her expression softening. “You’re safe here, Yuki. This is your time. You don’t have to worry about any of that right now.” She grabbed my bags and motioned for me to follow her to the car.

As we drove through the bustling streets of New York, I watched the city zoom by, its towering skyscrapers and endless noise so different from the quiet luxury of home. It was the mid-90s, and the world outside was buzzing with a different kind of energy. Grunge bands blasted on the radio, and everything seemed alive, chaotic in its own way, but nothing like the suffocating storm brewing around my family.

"Your dad and I go way back, you know," Summer said after a few moments of silence, glancing over at me. "When we were kids, before all the... complications." She hesitated before adding, "I always knew he'd make a name for himself. But I didn’t think things would get this out of hand."

I swallowed, thinking of the pristine image my father had worked so hard to cultivate, the image that was crumbling thanks to Tifani. "Yeah... things are pretty bad right now."

Summer sighed, turning down the volume on the radio as we neared her apartment. "Listen, Yuki, I know you didn’t ask for any of this. I get that it’s hard being caught in the middle. But you’ve got time here, space to figure things out. Don’t let what’s happening back home drag you down."

Her words were comforting, but there was a heaviness in my chest that wouldn’t lift. How could I forget everything that was happening when it was all over the news? When every tabloid was tearing into the Kumo-Astrino name, piece by piece?

Summer's apartment was cozy, a world away from the sprawling estate I was used to. It was simple, with mismatched furniture and posters of icons—Kurt Cobain, Madonna, and TLC—pinned to the walls. The atmosphere was welcoming, lived-in, and exactly what I needed.

“You can take the guest room,” she said, leading me down a short hallway. “It’s small, but it’s yours for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” I said, setting my bag down. The room was indeed small, but it was private, and that’s all that mattered right now.

“Make yourself at home, kiddo,” Summer added with a smile. “And don’t worry. We’ll figure all this out together.”

As she left me to unpack, I sank onto the bed, exhaustion washing over me. For a moment, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I could escape the madness of home, at least for a while.

But even as I closed my eyes, Reika’s words echoed in my mind: "The fall will be spectacular."

I wasn’t naive enough to think that being in New York meant I was free from it all. Tifani and Reika were still out there, still plotting, still pushing the family towards destruction. And despite the distance, I knew this was far from over.

I pulled out the small notebook I’d tucked into my bag, flipping to a blank page. If I was going to figure out what they were planning, I needed to start connecting the dots. Summer had given me space, but I couldn’t stay on the sidelines forever. My family’s downfall was unfolding in real-time, and I couldn’t just sit here and watch it happen.

I had to figure out their endgame. And I had to figure it out fast.