“She thinks she’s clever. Thinks she can get out clean. She’s been talking to lawyers.” His mouth curls bitterly. “I want you to make her reconsider.”
“I can’t make her—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice sharpens. “You’ll visit. Cry, tell her how much you need her. You’re good at that—playing the fragile daughter. Make her feel guilty.”
I stare at him. “Why would you even want her back?”
He lowers his voice. “Because we’re in trouble, Chloe.”
He glances toward the guard near the wall, then pinches my side hard, enough to make me gasp. “Stop flinching. Listen.” His breath is hot against my ear when he leans in. “I took money from some very bad people.”
The world narrows to the space between us. “What do you mean, bad people?”
“The kind who don’t forgive.”
He sits back, eyes darting. “They’re after me. Probably after you, too, if you’re not careful. But there’s a man on the outside—he’ll take care of things if you need money. His name is Vince Marano. You remember that name, Chloe. If anyone starts asking questions, you find Vince.”
I whisper it. “Vince Marano.”
“Good girl.”
The guard clears his throat, stepping closer. Dad straightens like nothing happened. “Once they transfer me, don’t contact me for a while. Not until I reach out. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”
Another guard walks in, calling names. Dad’s is one of them.
He pushes back from the table, the chains rattling. “Keep your head down. And for God’s sake, don’t get involved with idiots. You embarrass yourself enough.”
“I’m trying—”
But he’s already being led away. He doesn’t look back.
The chair feels colder after he’s gone.
I sit until the guards tell me it’s time to leave, staring at the scratched tabletop. My reflection swims faintly in the metal. I think of the house I grew up in with its marble floors, imported art, a nanny who taught me how to curtsy for guests. I think of Christmas morning when Dad bought me a pony because I said I liked horses once.
And I think about how every single bit of it was built on lies.
I want to text Jamie. He’s the only person who’s ever made me feel like it’s okay to not have everything together. He listens. He doesn’t judge. But what would I even say?Hey, my dad might’ve been laundering money for criminals. Also, I might be getting blacklisted by my entire sorority because they think I’m trash. And I kind of slept with your best friend.
Yeah. No.
By the time I make it back to campus, the sun’s sliding low behind the dorms. My stomach knots tighter with every step toward the sorority house.
The front door is cracked open. That’s the first bad sign.
Inside, it smells like something acrid—nail polish remover maybe. My room is at the end of the hall, and I can hear muffled laughter from behind closed doors as I pass.
When I push my door open, the breath leaves my body.
Everything is destroyed.
My mattress flipped, sheets shredded. Makeup dumped across the floor, glitter crushed into the carpet. And on the wall, scrawled in bright red lipstick, is one word. SLUT.
My heart stutters.
