Her hand dips into the back pocket of her pants, producing a folded white piece of paper that she dangles between two fingers as if holding something particularly distasteful. My heart slams against my ribs as recognition dawns.
The contract Logan and I had written out.
“How did you get that?” I remember what Logan said about our agreement getting into the wrong hands. She’s the worst person that could have gotten a hold of it.
She fans herself with it, theatrically, condescendingly. “Took a page from your playbook and hid behind a tree last night. Imagine my surprise when I overheard you mention it.” Her lips twitch in smug satisfaction. “Logan is paranoid about privacy. I knew he’d keep it close.”
“So you snooped through his things?”
“The existence of such a contract would surely stir trouble for Logan. As a concerned friend, I had to step in.” She unfolds the paper with exaggerated care, her eyes skimming the text as if reading the juiciest gossip column. “‘Rule number one.’” she recites, voice dripping with contrived delight, “One must not fall for the other.’” Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp as a blade. “Who broke it first, I wonder?”
Blind panic propels me forward as I lunge for the contract, but she pirouettes away with the grace of someone who’s spent a lifetime dodging consequences.
“I knew something was off the moment the press picked up your little love story,” she says, triumph lighting her eyes. “Now I have proof.”
“You’re a thief.”
She smirks—the expression of someone who’s never been called on their behavior. “One way or another, I always get what I want.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“For you to disappear.” No pretense in her tone—just pure, undiluted malice.
My body goes cold, starting from my fingertips and spreading inward like frost on a window. I’ve known since our first meeting at the school that she wanted me gone. I just didn’t realize the depths she’d sink to make it happen.
“Unless,” she adds with a honey-sweet voice, “you want this little contract to be leaked to every news outlet in the country. I’m sure they’ll love the narrative: a delusional fan blackmailing Logan Humphries into fake dating her. And even if Logan defends you, the damage will be done. Your name will be mud. Or, maybe, it was Logan’s idea, in which case his career will nosedive.”
My legs tremble beneath me. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
I stare at her, mind whirling with possible counters, but nothing sounds like it could turn the tables in my favor.
“I’ll give you until the end of the weekend,” she says, folding the paper and putting it into the back pocket of her pants. “Make up an excuse. Pretend you lost interest. Just be gone before we leave for L.A. Monday morning.”
My lower lip trembles as I say, “You’re a monster.”
“No,” she corrects, “I’m a professional.”
She turns on her heel and glides toward the door, pausing just long enough for one final jibe over her shoulder. “Looks like you have much to think about. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and if you so much as even breathe a word of this to Logan, I’ll make your life a living hell.”
The door clicks shut, and I crumble to the floor with the weight of her ultimatum.
Chapter 25
My nerves fire on all cylinders as I pace the stretch of my room. I should probably just sit down, but there’s too much anxious energy zipping through me.
Victoria’s words keep replaying in my head like a looped TikTok video. I always get what I want. Who even talks like that? It’s like she memorized the Villain’s Handbook and decided to become its star pupil. Her sweet and tender public image—it’s just a mask. A glitzy, glittery facade to conceal the venom she hides underneath. Her fans have no idea who they worship.
If she truly cared for Logan, even a fraction of what she claims, she would never threaten to destroy everything he’s built. Never leverage his career like a bargaining chip. How could she be so hateful?
If only we hadn’t been stupid enough to write that agreement two months ago. But back then I could never have known things would turn out this way. I could never have known I would end up caring for him so much.
I move to stand by the window, my palm touching the cool glass.
Logan is outside. He seems distressed, his phone pressed tightly to his ear, pacing back and forth every two steps. His free hand rakes through his hair like he’s ready to pull it out. Whatever plagues him, I wish I could wave a magic wand and make all his worries disappear.
If we stay together until the wedding, Victoria will leak our contract to the media and spin the story to paint me as a deranged fan, or worse, blame Logan for deceiving everyone. Either way, the impact on his career could be severe. If I leave, it will hurt him, too. It will hurt me.
