My Sister Owed Him Two Hundred Thousand

“Jeremy, I’ve got a thing for you.”

Leighton Turner held out a pale pink envelope at the entrance to the university’s main gate. For half a second, the world stopped. Then it didn’t.

Laughter exploded around her.

People surged in, phones up, cameras ready. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else had already started a livestream, shoving the lens right in her face, catching every nervous flutter of her lashes.

Leighton stood dead center of it all—cream blouse, long brown hair spilling over her shoulders, canvas shoes worn down to a faded white. She looked too put-together for this. The kind of girl who would never publicly confess to a campus heartthrob.

Jeremy leaned against his sleek white sports car and took the letter without opening it. His face was calm, almost gentle—but the cold flicker in his eyes when he glanced at the envelope gave him away.

“Leighton?”

The second he said her name, whispers swarmed around them.

“Isn’t she that lit major on scholarship?”

“Yeah, her. She works nights at the grocery store, right?”

“And she’s confessing to Jeremy?”

Leighton’s fingers tightened on the envelope. She wasn’t the one who wrote it. The real admirer was her sister, Jazlyn.

Jazlyn had been born with a fragile heart and a shyness that ran bone-deep. She’d liked Jeremy for two years but never worked up the nerve to speak to him.

That morning, Jazlyn had called her, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Sis, I’m scared.”

“But I really want to know if he likes me back.”

With Jazlyn’s condition, Leighton couldn’t risk upsetting her more. She knew exactly how humiliating this could get, and she knew someone like Jeremy would never look twice at her sister. But Jazlyn’s tears were impossible to ignore.

So Leighton stood there, taking the humiliation for her sister, facing the laughter meant for Jazlyn.

Jeremy squeezed the envelope lightly, smiled a little. “Sorry.”

Leighton met his eyes.

His voice lifted, clear and deliberate. “You’re not my type.”

The crowd hooted. “What type is, Jeremy?”

His smile thinned. “The kind who pretends to be innocent.”

The laughter sharpened, turned mean.

“Ouch.”

“Innocent act? Nailed it.”

“Did she really think Jeremy would go for the pure-and-sweet type?”

Leighton went pale, but she didn’t cry. Didn’t run. She just took back the rejected letter.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, and turned to leave.

A girl in a sundress blocked her path, a string of pearls jingling at her wrist. Leighton recognized her instantly. Nataly Harris—the Harris family’s eldest, a socialite whose reputation owned the whole campus.

Everyone knew she had a thing for Jeremy.

Nataly looked Leighton up and down, smiling lazy and cruel. “Leighton, why the rush?”

“It’s just one failed confession. No need to run, right?”

Leighton said, “Move.”

Nataly arched a brow. “And if I don’t?”

She raised her phone again, camera locked on Leighton’s face. “Heard you’re pretty strapped for cash. If Jeremy turned you down, you gonna try your luck with someone else?”

The laughter that followed cut deeper.

Leighton glared at Nataly. She wasn’t the type to start a fight, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a temper. Before she could fire back, a cool voice sliced through the noise.

“Is everyone at this university this bored?”

The crowd went silent, parting like the Red Sea.

Leighton followed the voice.

A sleek black sports car sat just beyond the steps, a man leaning casually against it. Dark T-shirt. Silver chain. An unlit cigarette spinning between his fingers. His face was all sharp angles and cold eyes, but a faint smirk played on his lips. The kind of presence that made the air around him drop ten degrees.

“Logan Jackson?”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be studying abroad?”

“Isn’t he that infamous heir from the Jackson family?”

“Damn. What’s he doing here?”

Leighton had heard of him. Logan Jackson—notoriously hard to handle, quick-tempered, ruthless when he wanted to be.

Jeremy spotted him and called out, “Logan, what brings you here?”

Logan ignored him. His gaze stayed locked on Leighton, too intense, too focused.

Instinctively, Leighton looked away. She was sure she’d never met this man before.

Logan walked toward her slowly, eyes dropping to the letter in her hand. “You like him?”

Leighton hesitated. “None of your business.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one spoke to Logan Jackson like that.

But Logan only chuckled, low and soft. “Poor taste.”

Jeremy’s expression darkened.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to him. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

The tension thickened.

Leighton had no intention of sticking around. Leaving was the smartest play.

As she turned, Logan called out, “Leighton.”

She froze. How did he know her name?

She glanced back. Logan’s voice dropped, meant only for her. “He’s not worth it.”

Her heart stuttered. Why would he say that?

Her phone rang—Jazlyn.

Leighton answered, and her sister’s tearful voice crackled through the speaker. “Sis…”

“I think I messed up.”

Leighton’s face fell. “Where are you?”

“Near the old science building,” Jazlyn sobbed. “I… I didn’t mean to. They said it’s really expensive and they want me to pay a lot of money.”

Leighton clutched her phone and ran.

Jeremy called after her, “Leighton, aren’t you forgetting your letter?”

She didn’t look back.

Logan bent and picked up the discarded letter. He read the name on the envelope—addressed to Jeremy, signed by Jazlyn.

The irritation in his eyes vanished, replaced by amusement. “So she didn’t write it after all.”

Jeremy frowned. “What?”

Logan didn’t answer. He tucked the letter into his pocket and got back into his car.

The black sports car’s engine roared to life, drowning out every other sound.

By the time Leighton reached the old science building, rain had started to fall.

Jazlyn sat by the curb, pale and tear-streaked. Nearby, several guys in racing suits loomed, their expressions dark.

A personal drone lay on the ground, damaged and bent. The black exterior was scratched and dented, one wing broken, a silver “C” emblazoned on the tail.

Leighton rushed to Jazlyn and pulled her close. “Are you hurt?”

Jazlyn shook her head, crying too hard to speak.

One of the guys snorted. “People are fine. The equipment’s not.”

Leighton looked up. “How much?”

The guy shoved a tablet in front of her.

Repair estimate: $200,000.

Leighton’s heart dropped.

Jazlyn clung to her, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to. I was riding too fast and couldn’t stop.”

Leighton shielded her sister. “I’ll take responsibility.”

The guy laughed sharply. “You? How exactly?”

“Do you even know who owns this?”

Leighton didn’t answer.

Just then, a car door slammed.

Logan approached, holding a black umbrella that shielded Leighton from the rain.

The guys intimidating Jazlyn immediately backed off, heads bowed. “Mr. Jackson.”

Logan ignored them, glanced at Leighton. Then he turned to the guy demanding compensation. “Who told you to scare her?”

The guy stiffened. “Mr. Jackson, this is Barnes’s drone. He insisted on payment tonight.”

Logan took the tablet, glanced down. “Barnes?”

The guy nodded.

Logan dialed a number, his tone calm. “Send me your account details.”

Leighton’s head snapped up.

She couldn’t hear the person on the other end, but Logan smiled faintly. “Two hundred thousand. I’ll cover it.”

Moments later, the transaction was confirmed.

The guys didn’t dare utter another word.

Logan tossed the tablet back to them. “I’m your creditor now,” he said, turning to Leighton.

She met his gaze, her throat suddenly dry. Why was this man helping her?

Logan stepped closer, his voice soft. “Leighton.”

“Your sister owes me now. How do you plan to repay?”