Chapter 3

I glanced at the screen, unlocking my phone to check what it was.

My heart dropped as I saw the name on the text sent to me.

Melvin.

The name alone made my hands go cold.

I clicked on his message only to read a brief, chilling text that sounded more like a threat.

“You think you can just run, Evie? You can't run. I know where you are.”

The room felt smaller.

My chest tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing the air out of me.

He knew.

Or at least he wanted me to believe he did.

I blocked the number immediately, my fingers trembling so badly I nearly dropped the phone. Then I tossed it onto the desk as if it had burned me.

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at the wall. I inhaled deeply and ran a hand through my hair, an unwelcome feeling washing over me as I stepped out of the class.

***

Sleep became something everyone else enjoyed. For me, it turned into a dark hallway I was afraid to walk down. The moment I closed my eyes, I was dragged back into memories I tried so hard to bury. Melvin’s voice. His grip on my wrist. The way the air used to feel too thin whenever he stood too close.

I would wake up in the middle of the night, gasping. My chest tight. My sheets damp with sweat.

Sometimes I screamed.

Most times, I screamed and called Anya.

She never complained. Not once.

“Evie, breathe,” she would say softly, even if it was two in the morning. “You’re safe. He’s not there. You left. You survived.”

But survival didn’t feel like living.

The anxiety followed me everywhere. Into the shower. Into cabs. Into my classroom.

I became someone I barely recognized. I grew meaner, my frayed nerves making me less tolerant of the privileged students.

The smallest whisper during lectures irritated me. A late assignment felt like a personal insult. I snapped at students for things I used to ignore. Their polished shoes, their expensive watches, their careless laughter—it all got under my skin.

They had no idea what fear felt like. They had no idea what it meant to rebuild your life from nothing.

And then there was Elroy Vans—rich, confident Elroy, always leaning back in his chair like the world bored him.

He had a way of looking at me that made me feel exposed, like he saw through my strict tone and tired eyes.

“You look exhausted, Professor,” he said one afternoon, tapping his pen against his notebook. “Late night?”

A few students snickered.

“I’m fully prepared to continue this lecture,” I replied sharply. “If you are capable of listening.”

His lips curved slightly. He didn't look upset. He looked amused.

The more irritable I became, the more he pushed.

“Maybe you should drink less coffee,” he murmured once as he passed my desk. “It’s making you jumpy.”

I wanted to throw him out of my class, but I ignored him. He wasn't my problem.

At home, I tightened security.

Every evening, I checked the locks twice. Sometimes three times. I installed an extra bolt on the front door. Motion lights outside the apartment. I even changed my phone number—though that clearly hadn’t worked.

Still, I felt watched.

Even when the apartment was silent, I would sit up in bed, listening. Waiting.

How long could I really stay hidden? How long before he found me?

The faculty welcome event came at the worst possible time.

I had completely forgotten about it until an email reminder popped up. Attendance was strongly encouraged. Wealthy donors would be present. Important families, including the Vans family.

The thought of socializing made my stomach twist. But not going would raise questions, and I was already walking on thin ice with my temper.

So I decided to make an effort.

I wore a dark green dress I hadn’t touched in months. It fit nicely, hugging my waist before falling softly to my knees. I straightened my hair and applied light makeup to hide the shadows under my eyes caused by the stress I'd been through these past few days.

For a moment, staring at my reflection, I almost looked normal.

The hall glittered with soft lights and polished floors. Laughter floated through the air. Crystal glasses clinked gently.

Money had a sound. It sounded like this.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing tray, more for something to hold than to drink when I heard my name suddenly after minutes of just floating through the crowd.

“Professor Reeds?”