Chapter 4

Cassidy busied herself in the kitchen while Alec and I stood in the living room in silence. He suddenly reached for my arm, his voice cold with a testing edge. "Rhett."

I jerked away from him without a word. His jaw tightened, a flash of resentment crossing his eyes. He glanced toward the kitchen, then slowly stepped closer.

He stared at me, and every trace of vulnerability dropped from his face. What surfaced in its place was raw, undisguised spite.

"I really don't get it, Rhett. How can you still stand living here? This place is covered in memories of Cassidy and me.

"She's the one who insisted we come here. She said it made things more exciting. We did it everywhere—the couch, the balcony, the kitchen..."

He paused, his expression twisting into something unhinged. "Oh, right. She also said you're a dead fish in bed. Boring and uptight."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, deliberate and taunting.

I stood there, stunned, staring at him in disbelief. My stomach churned, and my lips wouldn't stop trembling.

Every ounce of restraint I had left went into the scream that ripped out of me. "Get the hell out of my house!"

Cassidy came running out of the kitchen at the noise and immediately pulled Alec behind her. "Enough! If you have a problem, take it up with me.

"I'm the one who thought he was more caring and considerate than you, that's why I—"

I slapped her across the face.

A red handprint bloomed across her cheek. She stared at me with bloodshot eyes, neither of us moving, until finally she let out a low, bitter laugh.

"That slap makes us even, Rhett. I'll be waiting for you to come crawling back."

Then she left, one arm around Alec, who was still shaking, and walked out without looking back.

It didn't take long. Within days, a headline started making the rounds online.

"Young Pianist Accused of Thesis Plagiarism."

Cassidy had reported me by name, accusing me of plagiarizing Alec's thesis. I stared at the headline, my jaw locked.

This was the critical stage of the International Young Artists competition, and the timing was no accident. That night, while Alec and I had been in the living room, she'd slipped away and stolen every one of my original drafts.

She knew I'd have no way to prove my innocence. A lie that blatant was enough to destroy my entire career.

My phone rang not long after.

"Apologize to Alec, and I'll tell everyone publicly it was all a misunderstanding."

Cassidy paused, softening her tone. "I just want you to back down. It's not too late to fix this."

She hung up, sounding completely sure of herself, convinced I'd give in and go begging.

The next day, the school issued a formal notice requiring all three of us to appear for a public hearing.

On the day of the hearing, Cassidy and Alec walked in looking completely confident and presented their "evidence" of my plagiarism to the faculty panel. Whispers rippled through the audience.

"The proof is airtight."

"Maybe those rumors about Rhett bullying Alec were true after all."

I sat there listening to the murmurs closing in from every direction and clenched my teeth.

"Mr. Callahan, it's your turn to present your defense. Regarding the plagiarism accusation, is there anything you'd like to say?"

I raised my head slowly and looked around the room. The faces of the professors and students were barely concealing their contempt. The "ironclad evidence" in Cassidy's hands seemed to have already nailed me to the wall.

I dropped my gaze and let out a quiet, cold laugh. Then I pulled up one of the obscure compositions cited in the paper.

"Alec, you're claiming I plagiarized your work. Then I'm sure you must be very familiar with this piece referenced throughout the thesis."

The moment he heard my question, Alec went rigid.

Cassidy immediately objected. "Professors, theory and practice are two different things. Being able to write a theoretical analysis doesn't mean someone has to be able to perform the piece."

A few of the professors on the panel nodded slightly.

I looked at the two of them with open contempt, then walked straight to the piano. My fingers moved across the keys, fluid and precise, playing the obscure piece from start to finish. When I was done, I held up the rare collector's vinyl.

"This piece is a private demo recorded by Maestro Aldric in his later years. It was never publicly released and exists only on this record.

"When you two gave it to me, the packaging was still sealed. If Alec has never even heard the piece, how could he have written a thesis built around it?"