Treachery

Episode1

Harper's POV

The rays of sunlight pierced through my curtains, bouncing off my eyelids—persistent, annoying, desperate to pull me from the much-needed rest I’d been savoring. Normally, I was one to rise with the crow of the rooster, the first hint of dawn, but this week? I was on what I’d declared a mini vacation.

Time, for once, didn’t matter. Deadlines didn’t exist. I’d finished everything at least two weeks early, like the overachiever I was. It wasn’t just a habit—it was a lifestyle. I thrived on being prepared.

I’m Harper Hardy, English major, not exactly job hunting, but keeping an eye out. My parents don’t believe in the whole “take a break and explore” thing. You could call them old-fashioned in every way possible. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I’ve been itching to get a taste of real-world experience—and so far, it’s been slow.

“It’s time for brunch!” my mom’s voice rang from downstairs, which meant I had officially overslept and missed breakfast. Again.

I scrambled out of bed and dashed into the bathroom before she had the chance to send my brother Henry up. That would’ve been the worst way to kick off my so-called vacation morning.

Sitting on the closed toilet seat, I scrolled through my phone, checking emails and messages just in case anything urgent had come through. Nothing. Just more newsletters and memes from London.

“Harper, Mom said to—”

That was all I needed. The warning strike had been fired.

“I’m on my way down!” I cut Henry off mid-sentence, leaping up like I’d been caught doing something illegal. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went through the quickest skincare routine known to man—all in five minutes.

“Good morning, Mom. Dad,” I said as sweetly as I could, sliding into my designated seat at the dining table with an innocent pout. I was hoping it would bail me out of the passive-aggressive lecture on missing breakfast. No such luck.

“Morning, Harper,” Dad replied, giving me the look—the one that said, you know better.

In the Hardy household, missing breakfast wasn’t just skipping a meal. It was basically a felony-level offense. And while my parents are some of the kindest, most loving people you’ll ever meet, they also take their house rules very seriously.

Still, the punishment wasn’t exactly cruel. I mean, going around the table and kissing everyone five times isn’t the worst thing in the world—it’s just embarrassing. Especially when my brother counts each one out loud like a referee.