RIVAL'S TO LOVER'S: My Step Brother Is Now My Roommate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 171 - チャプター 180

HAYDEN’S POV:My laptop screen was the only fucking thing illuminating the dark corners of my dorm room, and the blue light was starting to make my eyes feel like they were bleeding.It was four in the morning. My head was pounding in a brutal, rhythmic beat against my skull, and every muscle in my neck was locked up tighter than a drum.On the bed behind me, Stephen was passed out, but it wasn't a peaceful sleep. He kept tossing and turning, letting out these low, tortured groans in his nightmare that made me want to go out and punch a fucking hole through the nearest concrete wall."Come on, you piece of shit," I muttered under my breath, slamming my finger onto the enter key. "Give me something. Give me a fucking name."The screen flashed, a wall of raw code and system logs reflecting in my eyes. I’m an athlete, not some goddamn Silicon Valley nerd, but right now, I didn't give a flying fuck what I had to become to track this motherfucker down.Someone had dismantled my life, Step

STEPHEN’S POVMy lungs burned like I was inhaling straight sulfur, and every fucking step I took down the concrete corridor of the athletic complex felt like a countdown to an execution.Hayden had physically blocked the dorm room door for five minutes, shoving his massive frame in my way and practically barking in my face until the logical side of my brain finally kicked back online.“Play it cool,” he’d said. “Make the motherfucker think he’s still invisible.”But pretending like my entire world hadn't just been firebombed by a guy who shared our goddamn oxygen? It was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done.I didn't go to the locker room or the training pitch. Instead, I hovered around the recovery lounge and the lunch stations, blending into the background like a goddamn ghost while the rest of the team drifted through their post-practice routines. I needed to know how deep this infection went. I needed to know if Ryan was acting alone or if the whole fucking squad was laughing

STEPHEN’S POVThe digital file Blake dropped into our group chat didn't just break the case wide open…it completely shattered the remaining sanity I’ve been clinging to by a thread.I sat on the edge of my mattress, staring at the glowing screen of my phone as the timestamps and screenshots blurred together into a horrific, undeniable picture.Every single bit of toxic vitriol, every anonymous tip sent to the media outlets, every calculation meant to reduce my life to a pile of ash it was all Ryan.But as the initial wave of homicidal rage died down, it was instantly replaced by a sickening, hollow weight in the pit of my stomach. A weight that felt a hell of a lot like shame.Amber…..Jesus fucking Christ, Amber.The realization hit me like a physical blow to the solar plexus, knocking the wind straight out of my lungs. She hadn't done it. She hadn’t leaked the tape. The wild, disjointed stories she’d been sobbing through, the spiraling paranoia that Hayden and I had dismissed as th

AMBER’S POVMy hands were shaking, but for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t out of goddamn fear. It was pure adrenaline.Walking out of Hayden and Stephen’s dorm room felt like stepping out of a suffocating tomb. The crushing weight of their suspicion was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp fury that burned right through my veins. Ryan thought he could use me as his fucking scapegoat. He thought he could drive me to the brink of a mental breakdown, watch me spiral into paranoia, and walk away with a fifteen thousand dollar paycheck and a smile on his miserable face.He had no fucking idea what was coming for him."You ready for this?" Blake whispered, her hand gripping my shoulder tightly as we navigated the crowded walkway toward the Greek quad."I'm going to ruin his fucking life," I muttered, my voice dead and steady."That's my girl," Blake said, a vicious smirk playing on her lips. "Go set the fire. I’m going to hand the media the gasoline."We split up, and I took a deep breath,

BLAKE’S POVWatching a man’s life completely disintegrate in real time is a beautiful, twisted kind of science.For forty eight hours, Amber had been the match, sparking fires in every dark corner of the camp athletic department. But a match only burns what it touches. If you want a real, catastrophic the kind that leaves nothing but ash and bone you need the internet. You need the media.And more than anything, you need me to hand them the gasoline.I sat at the desk in my dorm room, the glow from my laptop screen casting sharp, blue shadows across the walls. The room was dead silent except for the frantic, rhythmic clicking of my keyboard. My fingers practically flew over the keys, fueled by a mixture of stale coffee, cold calculation, and a vicious streak of adrenaline.On the screen was a meticulously crafted, five-page document. I’d spent the entire week refining it, treating it less like a gossip piece and more like a federal indictment.Every single detail was laid out with p