But my mouth filled with stone. My lungs forgot how to breathe.
She didn’t wait for me.
After a minute, she climbed back into the car and drove away, taillights glowing like the final burn of a bridge I’d lit myself.
And Tristan?
He was doing what I couldn’t.
Standing beside her. Taking the heat. Wearing the rumors like a second skin. The fact that Jade let him... meant he was doing it right.
It should’ve been me.
But the cost of loving her had already been spelled out.
Notre Dame. My record. My family’s empire.
And her entire future, hanging by threads I’d only now begun trying to mend behind the scenes with Xavier and our private investigation.
The difference was, Tristan had nothing to lose.
But I’d already lost everything that mattered.
So yeah, I gave Vivian her tour. I smiled and played the part. I let the hashtags crown her the new queen. But deep down, I knew the truth.
Jade might not have a royal bloodline.
But she was the only girl I’d ever bowed to.
And I would burn every lie this school had ever whispered—just to see her smile again.
The tux fit like armor. Custom cut, hand-stitched, imported wool. Perfect lapel. Polished cufflinks. All of it meant to make me look like I belonged at the top of the food chain.
But I’d never felt more like a fraud.
The mansion was already prepped for Homecoming—an old Vanderbilt estate with carved archways, dripping chandeliers, a courtyard draped in florals like a Bridgerton fever dream. My mother had been on the planning committee since June. I think she saw it as a crowning moment. One last public performance before college stole her golden boy.
Too bad the son she’s been parading around isn’t really me anymore.
Xavier dropped a thumb drive onto the coffee table.
“Here’s everything,” he said. “Videos, screenshots, sealed docs from the Ohio district. Names of the boys who ran that fake OnlyFans ring. IP matches. Payout trails. Even got some of their parents’ emails when they tried to hush it up.”
I blinked. “That was fast.”
He nodded once. “I called in every favor. Nobody messes with our girl.”
Our girl. Yeah.
Except she wasn’t mine anymore.
I looked down at my hands. They were clenched in my lap.
“What about Royal Oaks?” I asked.
Tristan leaned back in the leather club chair, arms stretched. “Got receipts on two of the girls who messed with her car. Their texts, Snap DMs bragging about it. We even traced a burner account that posted the fish photos to a dorm IP address.”
Xavier opened his laptop and turned it toward us. “I have everything scheduled. Nine a.m. tomorrow. Auto-dump to Reddit, Instagram burner accounts, an anonymous submission to the local news tipline. The narrative’s tight. A fake porn ring. Deepfake AI. High school cover-up. Rich kids with immunity.”
