As soon as she cut the corner after leaving the stage, Paige pulled out her phone.
Her thumbs moved fast. Practiced. The betting dashboard was already open—she'd had it ready before the cheerleading competition even started—and now she was placing numbers that would make their allowance look like pocket change.
All of it on Phei.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Brielle's voice came sharp from behind her. Not scandalized—confused. The tone of someone watching a person they thought they knew do something completely incomprehensible—like watching your twin sister burn a family heirloom while humming a tune.
Paige didn't look up.
"Betting."
"I can see that, Captain Obvious." Brielle moved closer, eyes on the screen. When she saw the name next to the wager, she went still. "You're betting against Marcus. Against our team. Against our family. We just won a competition supporting them and you're—"
