4

The doorknob turned another inch, and the wood groaned. I was ready to scream, to hurl the marble lamp from my nightstand, to defend myself against Rusty with whatever I could find.

But the door swung open, and the hallway light illuminated a slender figure wrapped in a silk robe.

"Luke? Are you still awake, sweetheart?" Darla’s soft voice flooded the room.

I let out a sigh so long my lungs actually ached. I collapsed back against the pillows, feeling a cold sweat drench the back of my neck. The relief was so intense I nearly burst into tears. It wasn't him.

"Mom… you scared me," I managed to say, trying to steady my breathing.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. Her eyes shone with a happiness that made me feel guilty. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to scream that her new husband’s youngest son was the man who had shattered my heart that very morning, and that the eldest was a monster who had harassed me in the hallway minutes ago.

But the words stuck in my throat. If I spoke, I would destroy her "miracle."

"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you," she whispered, stroking my hair. "I know this is strange, that the mansion is intimidating, but Richard adores you. Be patient with his sons, Luke. They’re young, wealthy, and a bit arrogant, but we’re a family now. Thank you for doing this for me."

Damn it. There was a spark in her eyes I had never seen before. She was happy—for the first time since my father disappeared.

I forced a smile and nodded. "I’m doing it for you, Mom," I replied, with a bitterness she didn't detect.

"I love you so much, honey. I promise that after the wedding, I’ll spend more time with you," she said before giving me a kiss on the forehead.

I watched her leave as my chest tightened. My life was over, but my mother’s had just begun.

While I was alone again, I stared at the ceiling for hours. My mother didn't see the danger; she only saw the diamonds. And while she slept the sleep of the just, I prepared myself for my first day in hell.

The next morning, reality hit me with the force of a freight train.

Breakfast was a nightmare. My new stepbrothers watched me from the corner of the table while my mother was lost in her bubble of love.

"There are no more cars available, Luke," Richard stated from the head of the breakfast table. "You’ll go with Frederick and Rusty. You’re going to the same campus; it’s only logical."

My eyes went wide. I nearly choked on my toast. Shit! Could this get any worse?

The drive was twenty minutes of psychological torture. I pressed myself against the right window, trying to become invisible.

In the front seat, Frederick drove with a terrifying calm, his large, veined hands gripping the steering wheel with a firmness that reminded me of his hold in the hallway. Beside him, Rusty checked his phone.

They spoke to each other as if I were a piece of furniture. They discussed stocks, the lacrosse team, and a party over the weekend. They ignored me completely, and that void hurt almost as much as their attention would have.

When we arrived at the university parking lot, Frederick killed the engine, got out without a word, and vanished into the crowd of students with that "owner of the world" stride that defined him.

Rusty, on the other hand, walked around the car and opened my door before I could even touch the handle.

"Let me help you, Luke," he said with a cynical smile, offering his hand.

"Don't touch me, Rusty," I spat, climbing out on my own and adjusting my backpack strap. "You did enough yesterday."

"Luke, yesterday was an error in judgment. Karla is…" he tried to step closer, invading my personal space. "But we live together now. We can fix this. Imagine the possibilities of being under the same roof."

A mocking laugh escaped my lips. I looked at him with the same disgust I felt the day before. "The only possibility I imagine is you going to hell." I dodged him with a quick step.

He was about to say something when a familiar head of hair appeared in the distance.

"Luke!" Riley, my now only loyal friend, ran toward me. She grabbed my arms and scanned me with concern. "Oh my god, I’ve been calling you all morning. Are you okay? Is it true what they’re saying about you and…"

She stopped abruptly. In that moment, I realized that everyone around us was staring at me, whispering and pointing.

"What’s wrong, Riley?" I asked, a knot of dread forming in my stomach.

"You don’t know? It’s Karla… Luke, you have to see this."

I didn't understand what was happening. Riley grabbed my arm, dragged me toward the main building, and handed me her phone.

The moment I looked at the screen, my blood turned to ice. On the university’s main forum, "St. Hale Confessions," there was a gallery of edited photos.

They were pictures of me, taken from my social media, but maliciously retouched. In one, my mother appeared on Richard Bayron’s arm, and below it, a photo of me with a wad of fake cash Photoshopped in.

The headline read: "Merit scholarship or payment for services? The 'good boy' sells his mother to the highest bidder to secure his career. From slave to courtesan in a single wedding."

The venom was pure. Karla had leaked details of my move, distorting them to make it look like I had planned everything for social climbing.

I walked toward my first class with my head down, but the whispers chased me. "Look at him, there goes the sell-out."

"Bet the CEO isn't the only Bayron touching him."

"That guy pretended to be a good boy, but it’s obvious he and his mom fuck for prestige."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to cry right then and there. But I held it in until lunch, when the pressure finally exploded.

I entered the cafeteria, and the silence was immediate, followed by a rising murmur. I looked for a secluded table with Riley, but Karla was there, sitting at the center table with her clique, wearing a victorious smile.

"Oh, did the university’s little slut show up today?" Her voice echoed through the entire cafeteria.

Every eye turned toward me.

"I thought now that your mom is fucking the owner of the university, you wouldn't bother coming here. Or are you looking to fuck someone high-ranking too? Following in mommy’s footsteps?" Karla continued, followed by the jeers of her pack.

"Shut up, Karla…" I growled, wanting to reveal her betrayal by sleeping with my boyfriend.

But before I could reply, Rusty stood up from his table and walked to the center of the room. He stood in front of me, raising his voice so everyone could hear.

"That’s enough!" Rusty shouted, looking at me with a fake compassion that made me sick. "I won't let anyone insult him. He’s not to blame for his mother’s decisions."

He approached me and tried to put an arm around my shoulders, pretending to be my protector—the hero who would clear my name.

"Come here, Luke. I’ll take care of you through these rumors," he whispered loudly enough for the audience to hear.

That was the breaking point. He had started everything! I jerked away from his arm with a sharp movement and faced him in front of the entire cafeteria. The silence was absolute.

"You’re going to take care of me, Rusty?" I asked, my voice ringing with a strength that wiped the smile off Karla’s face. "The same man who was rolling around yesterday with the person who leaked these photos? The one who cheated on me for six months because he didn't have the balls to admit he liked a scholarship boy?"

I didn't care if everyone knew; I wanted him to leave me alone once and for all. Rusty turned pale. The whispers shifted direction.

"Don’t come here playing the hero to clear your conscience. I am not your friend, I am not your protégé, and above all, I am not stupid enough to believe you care about my reputation."

Rusty stood speechless, humiliated in front of his elite friends while his eyes filled with rage. Once again, I left him with his mouth hanging open. I turned on my heel and walked out of the cafeteria with my head held high, even though I was breaking into a thousand pieces inside.

I ran to the faculty restrooms, locked myself in a stall, and let the tears flow. I felt destroyed. My reputation, years of effort, my dignity… everything had gone down the drain in a single morning.

I was alone in a house full of enemies and at a university that hated me. But just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting another hate message. But it was from an unknown number.

"If you want those photos and the threads on the network to vanish immediately, come to office 40A in the grad building now. Don't bring anyone. —F"

I stared at the screen. Office 40A? The grad building was on the other side of campus—a place where only seniors and the privileged had access.

The "F" could only mean one thing.