Masuk[Vivian's POV]I didn't sleep.I lay in the guest room—the one with the pale blue walls and the view of the oak trees—and I stared at the ceiling. My phone was in my hand. I could have texted him. I could have called her. I could have done a thousand things that would have made this real.Instead, I just lay there and watched the hours pass on my phone screen. 2:47 AM. 3:15 AM. 4:33 AM. The numbers blurred together.By 6 AM, I got up. I showered. I made myself into the version of Vivian that goes downstairs for breakfast. Composed. Functional. The kind of woman who slept well and didn't spend the night on her knees in the kitchen.I could lie with my whole body now.---They were both at breakfast.Of course they were. Why wouldn't they be? They thought they'd gotten away with it. They thought I was at work, completely unaware, completely stupid.They thought I didn't know.Bryan was making eggs. Again. Like yesterday. Like nothing had changed. He was humming—actually *humming*—while
"Bryan, sweetheart, could you come help me with this zipper?"I heard my mother's voice from the bedroom—high and bright, the way it gets when she's performing happiness. I heard his footsteps pad across the hardwood floor. I didn't hear any hesitation. That's the thing I couldn't forgive later: there was no hesitation at all.I was awake. Not fully, but enough. Enough to understand, on some level, what that eagerness meant.I didn't do anything about it.Instead, I rolled over and waited. Waited for him to come back. Waited to hear his footsteps, which never came. That's when I started to understand. Not the specifics—not yet—but the shape of something wrong.By the time I got downstairs, they'd already cleared their little scene. The kitchen smelled like coffee and normalcy. Mother sat at the island in her lavender silk robe, the one she saves for days when she wants to look effortlessly beautiful. The robe was buttoned all the way up.People don't realize how much you can see in wh
woke up to Ravenna shaking me awake like the apartment was on fire or something."Babe, I gotta go. I got a meeting at 9 and my boss is gonna kill me if I'm late again," she was saying, already throwing her clothes back on.I groaned and checked my phone. It was like 7:30 in the morning and my head was pounding. The tequila was not it. Not it at all.Wendy came stumbling out of the guest room, looking like she'd been through a war. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was all over the place, and she was moving like every step hurt."I'm leaving too," she announced. "My mom is expecting me for breakfast and if I don't show up she's gonna call the police or something dramatic like that."Elisa emerged from the bathroom, already showered and looking somehow fresh as fuck even after last night. Like, how was she glowing? She caught me staring and smiled—that kind of smile that said everything was cool, everything was normal, we were still us."Y'all are leaving me?" I groaned, but I was alre
The bass was still thumping through the dorm walls when I kicked the door open with my foot, a red Solo cup in each hand and my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. “Girl, move your ass or I’m pouring both of these on you,” I called out, laughing even though my stomach was in knots. Some curly-haired white girl I’d never seen before was already sprawled across my bed like she owned it, phone flashlight on, filming herself doing drunk makeup in my mirror. She glanced over her shoulder, grinned like we were besties, and said, “Yooo, you’re the soccer bitch with the braids, right? This room is fire.” I wanted to tell her to get the fuck off my sheets, but instead I just smirked. “Yeah, and you’re in my bed, so either help me hand these drinks out or get your drunk ass up.” She cackled and rolled off, snatching one of the cups. That’s when I saw the other two girls already posted up on the floor like they’d been waiting for me. One was this tiny, gorgeous Indian chick in
The thing about Fountain Academy's prom is that everyone pretends it matters while secretly knowing it's meaningless. Which is exactly why everyone shows up acting like it's their last night on Earth.I'm wedged against the ballroom's east wall, watching Valentina Ashford work the room like she owns it—which, honestly, she basically does. She's been Rank One for as long as anyone remembers, which means she moves through Fountain's High like the school was built around her shadow. Golden dress. Golden hair catching the light from the ridiculous chandelier someone's dad probably donated. Golden, golden, gold.It's exhausting just watching it."You're at it again," Maya says, appearing next to me with two champagne flutes she definitely stole from the bar."What do you mean?""I mean, you look like you're mentally ranking everyone in the room by their IQ and finding them all disappointing."I don't bother denying it. That's because it's true, and Maya knows I'm not the type to waste ener
They were both staring at me like I'd just told them I'd committed murder."You went to his house," Mila said. Her voice was flat. Dangerous."I didn't know," I said quickly. "I swear to God, I didn't know it was him.""You went to his house," Jayson repeated. He was standing by the window, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack."I know how it looks—""Do you?" Mila asked. She was standing up now, pacing. "Do you actually know how this looks? You told me you deleted his contact. You told me you were done with him. And then you went to his house and fucked him.""I know," I said. I was crying now. "I know, and I'm sorry, but I didn't know he was the one who posted the video. I didn't know until Cassie called me literally after I was done."Jayson turned to look at me. "You came here after sleeping with him?""Yes, because I found out what he did and I—""So what, you got off, got caught, and decided to come confess?" Jayson said. His voice was hard. Harder than I'd
The silence at breakfast was louder than any argument.Matthew sat at the head of the table, scrolling through emails with sharp, efficient movements. Selena entered quietly, poured herself coffee, and sat at the opposite end. Neither of them spoke about the night before. Neither of them looked at
Selena woke slowly to the pale morning light slipping through the curtains. Her body still felt weak, but the fever had finally broken. For a few quiet seconds, she simply lay there listening to the soft sound of rain tapping against the windows.Then her eyes shifted toward the armchair beside the
Selena didn't sleep. She lay in the dark listening to the mansion settle—pipes shifting, the distant hum of the AC, the weight of what happened on the terrace pressing down on her like something physical. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt it: the heat of his mouth on hers. The way he'd tilted
The Grand Kingsland Hotel ballroom glittered like a den of wolves wearing diamonds. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over hundreds of the city’s elite — businessmen, politicians, socialites — all circling each other with fake smiles and real knives. Selena stayed close to Matthew’s side, pai







