Chapter 3

The cracked screen of my phone went dark. A second later, it lit up again, buzzing violently against the wood of my desk like a trapped insect.

Incoming Call: Liam.

A harsh, genuine bark of laughter scraped its way out of my throat. He blocked me on Instagram and called me three minutes later. The audacity was almost impressive. He clearly realized his mistake with the Stories. He wanted to check my temperature. He needed to make sure his academic workhorse hadn't seen the digital proof of his betrayal.

Muscle memory is a disease. My thumb hovered over the red decline button, but I swiped green. I brought the phone to my ear. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to hear the exact tone of a man standing blindly on a trapdoor.

"Hey babe," Liam’s voice flowed through the speaker. Smooth. Easy. Dripping with that practiced, golden-boy charm. "You picked up so fast. Don't tell me you're still cramming at this hour."

My grip on the phone tightened until the cracked glass bit into my palm. A sharp prick of pain grounded me.

"I wasn't," I said. My voice came out flat, entirely devoid of warmth. "Just reviewing some materials. What do you need?"

A slight pause stretched over the line. He caught the frost in my tone, but his massive ego immediately dismissed it.

"Just checking in," he said. The condescension bled heavily into his words. "Look, I know you're stressed about the ceremony tomorrow. But you definitely have the stats for any Ivy you want. You'll be fine."

He spoke like a king granting a pardon to a peasant. He wore the MIT Early Decision label like a crown I forged for him with my own blood.

"Just don't forget what we talked about for after graduation," he added, lowering his voice into a fake, intimate register. "We're a team, right?"

My stomach violently flipped. Hot bile rose in my throat. I swallowed it down. He wanted to keep me on the hook. He wanted me to write his college papers while he slept in Madison’s silk sheets.

"You still have the MIT alumni interview next week," I pushed the words out, testing him one last time. "You need to review the core algorithm. You don't know the math. They will ask you to explain the data sets."

Liam exhaled loudly directly into the microphone. A sharp, irritated sigh.

"Come on, Chloe," he snapped. The charm evaporated instantly, replaced by a nasty edge. "Always so obsessed with grades. You put way too much pressure on yourself. It's suffocating."

I stared at the black graduation gown hanging on my door. Suffocating.

"I got the ED," he continued, his tone turning arrogant and lazy. "The interview is just a formality. You need to chill out. Seriously. You should learn to enjoy life like Madison does. You know, have some fun for once."

Across the line, a girl giggled. High-pitched. Careless. Madison.

A hot, electric jolt of pure anger shot down my spine. He used my labor to buy his ticket out of poverty, and now he used the girl he cheated with as a yardstick to measure my flaws. He called me a machine to my face.

I didn't argue. I didn't scream. I didn't demand an explanation.

"Right," I said. "Have fun."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and tapped the red button. The line went dead. I severed the connection. I tossed the phone onto my bed.

The walls of my dorm room suddenly felt too tight. The air tasted stale, thick with the ghost of his voice. I needed to move. I needed to physically leave the space.

I grabbed my denim jacket. I shoved my student ID and credit card into my pocket. I walked out of the room, marched down the concrete stairwell, and pushed through the heavy double doors of the dormitory.

The night air hit my face, cold and sharp against my flushed skin. I crossed the manicured campus quad. I headed straight for the 24-hour diner situated right on the edge of the school grounds.

The diner buzzed with a low hum of late-night chatter. Neon lights flickered over the cracked vinyl booths. The air smelled of burnt grease and industrial bleach. I walked straight to the counter.

"Large iced latte," I told the cashier, a bored college student with a nose ring. "Extra shot."

"That's six-fifty," she said, not looking up from the register.

I pulled out my card and tapped the reader. The machine beeped. Approved.

I stared at the printed receipt. An iced latte. I used to buy one every Friday afternoon before I met Liam. It was my one weekly indulgence. Then I stopped. Six dollars and fifty cents a day added up. A Princeton Review prep book cost forty dollars. An AP exam registration fee cost ninety-six dollars. I drank tap water and bitter instant coffee in the library for two years so Liam could have the absolute best study materials.

The barista slammed the plastic cup on the metal counter. Condensation rapidly dripped down the clear sides. I grabbed the cold cup. The ice rattled loudly. It felt incredibly heavy in my hand.

I walked to a booth in the far corner, away from the glaring overhead lights. I slid onto the red vinyl seat.

Voices drifted over from the adjacent booth. Three juniors from the prep school sat huddled around a massive plate of cheese fries. They wore designer hoodies and stared intently at a glowing iPhone screen in the center of the table.

"Did you see Liam's Stories before he deleted them?" a blonde girl whispered loudly, her eyes wide with gossip. "Total romantic gesture. He literally rented out the VIP section at Le Petit."

"Wait, what about Chloe?" the boy sitting across from her asked. He stuffed a grease-soaked fry into his mouth. "Aren't they together?"

The blonde girl snorted. A cruel, dismissive sound. "Please. She's just his study buddy. Everyone knows that. Have you ever seen them actually go on a real date? She just follows him around the library with flashcards."

A sharp, biting heat bloomed in my chest. Study buddy. The entire school watched me bleed myself dry for his academic career, and they labeled me a glorified, unpaid tutor.

"Well, it's definitely over now," the third girl chimed in, leaning closer to the phone. "My sister was driving downtown an hour ago. She saw Liam and Madison walking into the lobby of The Plaza Hotel. Holding hands. He was carrying her overnight bag."

"Damn. Upgrading to the billionaire tier," the boy laughed. "Good for him."

I sat frozen in my booth. My knuckles turned white around the plastic cup.

The Plaza Hotel. An hour ago. He called me from a luxury hotel room he paid for with Madison's money, while Madison laughed in the background. He told me to 'have some fun' while he unzipped her overnight bag. He lectured me on enjoying life while actively betraying me.

My jaw clenched so hard my back teeth ached. My vision tunneled. A furious, beautiful clarity washed over my brain, burning away the last remaining shreds of my past affection. I wasn't sad. I didn't want to cry. I was entirely, violently awake.

I looked down at the iced latte in my hand. I lifted the plastic rim to my lips. I pulled the dark liquid up the straw.

The espresso hit my tongue. It tasted burnt. Acidic. Harshly cold.

I swallowed the sip. I placed the cup back onto the sticky table. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Too bitter," I whispered to the empty booth.

I stood up. I didn't spare a single glance at the gossiping juniors next to me. I picked up the full, heavy cup of coffee. I walked over to the stainless steel trash can by the exit, hovered my hand over the opening, and dropped it straight in.

The plastic hit the bottom of the bin with a loud, satisfying thud. The ice shattered.

"Won't be ordering this again."

I pushed the heavy glass doors open and stepped back into the freezing night. I zipped up my jacket. I looked toward the massive brick auditorium at the center of the campus.

Tomorrow morning is graduation. Tomorrow morning, I burn his entire world to the ground.