Chapter 25
Jul 4, 2025
I walk through school the next morning like I’ve come back from the dead. My body moves, but my soul is somewhere else—tucked between memory and heartbreak, between everything I gave and everything I lost.
And Brielle is waiting. Of course she is.
She’s posted up against the lockers like she’s posing for a magazine cover, polished and poisonous in a plaid skirt and a smirk that could slice bone. Her arms are folded, one leg crossed over the other, as if she’s been rehearsing this moment since the leak dropped. And maybe she has.
“You gave him everything and still lost,” she says softly, like she’s mourning me. “That’s the tragedy of girls like you.”
I keep walking. I don’t flinch. I won’t give her the satisfaction.
But she steps in my path. Her voice lowers, silk hiding the blade. “You know what the worst part is? It wasn’t even worth it. All that pining. All that posing. And for what? One night and daddy ships you off like damaged goods. That’s gotta sting.”
My fists curl at my sides. I meet her eyes—calm, cold, razor-sharp.
She circles me like a vulture. “Do you know what everyone’s saying? That you begged him. That you let him ruin you for free.”
“I’m not doing this with you,” I say.
“Oh, but you already did.” Her grin is pure venom. “And now he’s walking around like nothing happened while you’re the school’s favorite cautionary tale. Cute.”
I take a step to the side, but she cuts me off again. The hallway has gone dead quiet.
“Heard his locker was clean this morning,” she adds with a wink. “Guess even he couldn’t stomach staying after your little performance.”
My throat burns. “Shut up.”
She leans in, her perfume choking me. “Don’t worry. Someone else will make use of what you left behind.”
My breath catches. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Brielle,” I say through clenched teeth, “walk away.”
But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t.
“Maybe I’ll give Grayson a little sympathy. Offer him something sweeter. I’m not the one with a leaked little lingerie catalog—”
The slap lands before I even know I’ve raised my hand.
Hard. Sharp. Final.
Gasps echo across the hallway like firecrackers. Phones lift in sync. Screens record in shaky hands. I can hear the whispers ripple like smoke.
Brielle stumbles back a step, then catches herself. Her perfect hair sways. Her eyes spark. Her mouth curves into something venomous.
“You little psycho,” she spits.
She steps forward until we’re nearly nose to nose. Her voice drops to a hiss meant for me and the cameras.
“Touch me again,” she says, voice trembling with rage, “and I’ll make sure your next scandal gets video.”
“You want to be famous that badly?” I whisper back. “Then keep poking.”
“Everyone’s watching,” she sneers. “You just made it worse for yourself.”
“No,” I say, lifting my chin, “you did.”
She laughs, but it’s hollow. “This school was never yours, Juliet. People like you don’t survive here.”
“And people like you,” I fire back, “rot from the inside out.”
My hands shake, but I steady them at my sides. My voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.
“Then make sure you bring your best lawyer.”
