CHAPTER TWO

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible. "No, that's not—I didn't—"

"Of course you didn't," Grayson said calmly. "I did. I created the account, posted the photo, and guess what? You're already getting responses. Hundreds of them. Some guys are actually interested, Eva. Can you believe that? Someone out there might actually want to touch you."

The hallway seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "You... you did this?"

"I told you," he said, his voice maddeningly patient. "I did you a favor. Because let's be honest—who else was ever going to give you this kind of attention? Who else was going to look at you and see anything worth wanting? At least now you have a chance. Some desperate, pathetic guys out there might actually be willing to overlook how disgusting you are."

I tried to grab the phone, tried to snatch it from his hands, but he pulled it away effortlessly.

"Easy there," he said. "You don't want to break my phone. That would just add to your problems, wouldn't it?"

"Take it down," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please, Grayson. Please take it down."

"Why would I do that?" he asked, tilting his head like I'd just said something genuinely confusing. "I'm helping you. I'm giving you something you could never get on your own. You should be grateful."

"Grateful?" I choked out.

"Yes, grateful," he said firmly. "Because without this, you'd die alone and untouched. At least now you have options. Some guys out there are actually considering it, Eva. They're actually willing to overlook how repulsive you are. If that's not a gift, I don't know what is."

"Honestly, I'm shocked anyone's interested," Marcus chimed in, leaning closer to look at the phone. "I mean, looking at that photo? I almost threw up. All those rolls and dimples and—Jesus Christ, it's like looking at a before picture in a weight loss ad."

"Exactly," Grayson said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Which is why you should be thanking me instead of crying about it. Because personally? I would never—and I mean never in a million fucking years—dream of touching you. Not if you begged me. Not if you paid me. Not if someone held a gun to my head and told me it was you or death."

Each word landed like a physical blow, carving pieces out of me that I didn't know I still had left to lose.

"I would rather cut off my own hands than have them anywhere near your disgusting body," he continued, his voice so calm and matter-of-fact that it was somehow worse than shouting. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than have to look at you naked. The thought of touching you, of putting my hands on all that fat and feeling it under my fingers? It makes me physically sick, Eva. Like genuinely nauseous."

"Why?" I whispered, tears streaming down my face now, hot and shameful and impossible to stop. "What have I ever done to you to deserve you ruining me like this? Grayson?”

"I only want to show you exactly what you are. A desperate, pathetic girl who's so starved for attention that she needs someone else to create opportunities for her because she's too worthless to get them on her own."

"You're a monster," I breathed.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But at least I'm an honest monster. At least I'm not walking around pretending to be something I'm not. You, on the other hand? You've been pretending your whole life. Pretending you're not desperate. Pretending you don't care what people think. Pretending you're not dying for someone—anyone—to want you."

"I hate you," I said, my voice shaking with rage and pain and something that felt like my soul breaking. "I hate you so much."

"Good," Grayson said, and for the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something I couldn't name. "You should hate me. Because I'm the only person in this school who's ever been honest with you about what you really are."

Then he stepped back, slipped his phone into his pocket, and turned to walk away.

"Oh, and Eva?" he called over his shoulder. "You might want to check the comments on that post. Some of them are actually pretty creative. I particularly liked the one suggesting you charge by the pound. Real entrepreneurial thinking there."

The others laughed as they followed him down the hallway, their voices echoing off the lockers until they disappeared around the corner.

I stood there alone, staring at nothing, feeling something inside me shatter so completely I wasn't sure it would ever be whole again.

How did he get that photo? When was it taken? How long had he been planning this?

The questions swirled in my head, but none of them mattered. Because the damage was done. The photo was out there. Thousands of people had already seen it. And there was no taking it back.

By the time I got home, I could barely hold myself together. My hands shook as I opened the door, and I immediately froze.

My parents were sitting in the living room, waiting for me. My mother's face was drenched in tears, her hands twisted together in her lap. My father stood behind her, his face set in a fury I'd never seen before.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

"Mom?" I said, my voice breaking. "Dad? What—"

"You horrible disgrace!" my father roared, cutting me off. "What were you thinking? What in God's name possessed you to do something so vile, so shameful, so completely unforgivable?"

I flinched, taking a step back. "I can explain. It wasn't me. I never—"

The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. One second I was standing, and the next, my cheek was on fire, my head ringing from the force of it.

"Explain?" he shouted, his voice shaking the walls. "You're going to stand there and explain to me how your naked photo ended up all over social media? How every single person we know has seen you half-naked, begging for sex like some common street whore? You're going to explain how you brought such complete and utter disgrace to this family? To our reputation? To everything we've worked for?"

"It wasn't me!" I sobbed, clutching my burning cheek. "I didn't post it! Grayson Holt did this to me! He took that photo and—"

"I don't care!" he snapped, his face turning red. "Do you think that matters? Do you honestly think anyone is going to believe that? Do you think that will be enough of an explanation when the church calls me tomorrow morning? When Pastor Reynolds asks me why my daughter is spreading her legs for the entire internet to see? When our friends stop talking to us? When your mother can't show her face in public without people whispering behind her back?"

"Dad, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face, my voice raw and desperate. "You have to believe me. I would never do this. Grayson did this to hurt me. To ruin me."

"How could you do this to us?" He continued, ignoring me completely, his voice cracking with rage and something that sounded almost like grief. "How could you do this before God? I gave you everything, Evangeline. I fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head, and paid for your education. I supported you even when you refused to lose weight, even when you embarrassed us with how you looked. And this is how you repay me? With humiliation? With shame?"

"I didn't—"

"You have to leave," he said, his voice cold now. Final. Empty of everything except contempt. "Right now. Tonight. Pack your things and get out of this house. I cannot stand to have you walking around this city like this, dragging our family name through the mud. You've ruined us, Evangeline. You've ruined everything."