LOGINOne vote.I stare at the final number on my screen until the digits blur, and then I let myself feel it — that quiet, vicious satisfaction of watching someone spend thousands of dollars and hours of desperation to beat you, only to fall short by the smallest possible margin.Noah didn't just help me win. He made it art.I can picture Felicity's face when the poll closed — that frozen moment of disbelief, refreshing the page over and over, watching her number stay perpetually one step behind no matter how much she threw at it. No matter how many fake accounts, how much money, how many favors called in.One vote.It should be enough to keep her up all night.It is absolutely not enough to make her stop.She files a complaint with the Academic Affairs Office by eight the next morning.I find out from Chloe, who finds out from a junior who works the front desk, who texts her before I've finished my first
I'm barely through the courtyard doors before I pull up Liam's contact and hit call.It rings twice."Allie." His voice is low, unhurried — but I can hear the faint ambient hum of a conference room in the background. He's in a meeting. Of course he is. "Is something wrong?""I need a favor."A beat. Then, without missing a step: "Go ahead."I press my back against the exterior wall of the journalism building, keeping my voice down. "Your hacker friend — Noah. The one who traced that anonymous post Cher used on the campus forum. Can you give me his contact?"Silence for exactly two seconds."I'll send it now," Liam says.That's it. No interrogation, no what do you need him for, no are you sure about this. Just — I'll send it now.Something warm moves through my chest before I can stop it."You're not going to ask why?" I say."If you wanted to tell me, you would h
I don't go to my own department first.I go straight to the Performing Arts building.I'd looked up Felicity Montgomery's schedule the night before — old journalist habit, never walk into a confrontation without knowing your terrain. She has a large lecture in Meridian Hall at nine. Two hundred seats, tiered rows, the kind of class that empties like a burst dam the second the bell rings.I'm standing at the bottom of the steps when it does.Students flood out around me, and I feel the exact moment the whispers start. A girl near the door clocks me first, nudges her friend, and suddenly there's a ripple of recognition spreading outward like I've dropped something in still water.I hear "black lotus" twice before I've taken three steps. I hear "green tea" once. I keep my chin level and my eyes forward.Then I see her.Felicity Montgomery, descending the stairs with two friends flanking her like a security detail, hair perfect, chin high, wearing the specific expression of someone who we
I sit with it for a minute.The vote totals. The gap that's closed overnight. The fact that by some miracle of ballot-stuffing, Felicity Montgomery now leads the female poll by fifty thousand votes and the gap is so clean and so sudden that it could only mean one thing — she paid for it.And here's the thing I notice first, the thing that surprises even me:I'm not upset.I let out a slow breath and actually feel my shoulders drop an inch. No more stage play. No more standing opposite Adam Hart under a spotlight while half of Ashford University films it on their phones and posts theories about what it means. No more navigating that minefield while Liam watches from a distance, expressionless, processing.Felicity wants it that badly? Fine. She can have it.I close the forum app.Then I notice the notif
We've been sitting in the booth long enough that the lunch crowd has thinned out and our drinks have gone warm, but neither of us is in a hurry to leave. There's something about what Chloe just told me — the weight of it, the quiet devastation — that makes me want to stay right here, in this small anonymous restaurant, a little longer.Then she shifts gears completely."Oh — I almost forgot." She pulls out her phone, scrolling. "Have you checked the Ashford forum lately?"I stare at her. "I would rather eat glass."She almost smiles. "You might want to make an exception. Your name is all over the National Collegiate Arts Showcase voting poll. You're leading by a lot, Allie. Like, a lot a lot."I blink. "The what?""The Showcase." She turns her phone toward me. "You seriously don't know about this?"I take her phone, squinting at the screen. "I was on a film set for the entire summer, Chloe. I missed approxim
I don't have many classes this semester, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on how much empty time I want to spend inside my own head.I grab my textbooks from the department office, stuff them into my bag, and decide there's no reason to stick around campus any longer than necessary. Not with the way people keep staring at me like I'm a headline they're still trying to finish reading.I'm almost to the front gate when I hear my name."Allie!"I turn, and there's Chloe West — slight, soft-spoken, wearing a light blue cardigan that makes her look younger than she is — hurrying toward me with her own stack of books pressed against her chest like a shield.Something in my chest loosens just seeing her."Chloe." I fall into step beside her naturally. "Please tell me you're not going back to the dorms yet."She shakes her head. "I was thinking grilled fish, actually.""Done. Let's go."The rest
Allie’s hands curled into fists as she glared at Liam.“I don’t care anymore, Liam. Julian is better than you, and at least he doesn’t treat me like I’m disposable. I won’t waste my breath arguing. If you don’t sign the divorce papers, I’ll take this to court. Let’s see if you can keep your secrets
Liam Hart’s words cut through the air, leaving the entire room in stunned silence.Wife?What did he just say?The gathered reporters exchanged glances, trying to make sense of the bombshell that had just been dropped. Around the doorway, the secretarial staff, especially Ava, wore expressions of p
At that moment, Preston Whitmore stepped forward and addressed the reporters, his tone authoritative. "That concludes today's press conference. Please make your way back."But one reporter, bolder than the rest, raised his voice. "Mr. Hart, can you two pose in a more intimate position for a headlin
Julian Ford sat across from Allie Brooks with a platter of grilled Argentine red shrimp, peeling one leisurely as he spoke."So, what’s your plan now?" Julian asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.Allie let out a slow breath. "I honestly don’t know."Liam Hart had torn up the divorce pap







