Chapter 3

Chloe didn't say another word. She just started typing.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Within ten minutes, she had bypassed the server's invites and registered a phantom, anonymous account.

She hit enter. The screen loaded.

"You're in," she said quietly, sliding the laptop toward me.

I pulled my knees to my chest, pulling the heavy wool jacket tighter around myself. I reached for the trackpad. My fingers were trembling.

I clicked on the channel. #locker-room-bets.

I scrolled up. Up, up, up. Through weeks of messages. Every single line was a knife sliding directly into my chest.

Finn_Captain: [Honestly? She's boring. Won't put out. It's been two years, and I'm over it. Whoever wants her can have her.]

My breath hitched. I read it again. And again. The boy who told me he loved me every single night before bed.

O_Kens: [She's hot. If you're actually done, I'll take her off your hands.]

Finn_Captain: [Good luck, bro. She's obsessed with me. She's like a lost puppy, you can't shake her.]

O_Kens: [Bet. Give me one month. I'll bag her.]

Finn_Captain: [Deal. Play with her all you want. I don't want her anyway.]

My stomach twisted violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up.

It was a game. I was a game.

I kept scrolling. Below their exchange, the channel exploded. A literal betting pool had been opened. Most of the hockey team had placed money on the board.

Almost everyone bet that Orion would lose.

Then, a new username popped up.

Amber_Cheer: [Please. She's a charity case scholarship girl. Save your money, O. Poor girls are the absolute easiest to fool. Flash a little cash and she'll spread her legs.]

Tears blurred my vision.

I sat there in the dark, my fingers turning ice-cold, the blue light of the screen illuminating the absolute destruction of my life.

Chloe sat next to me on the bed. She didn't offer any empty apologies. She didn't try to hug me. She just silently handed me a box of tissues.

I read the chat logs until 4:00 AM. I read every joke. Every bet. Every cruel, laughing comment about my clothes, my background, my loyalty.

By the time the sky outside our dorm window began to turn a bruised, pale purple, I was completely empty.

The tears stopped. The shivering stopped.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I closed the Discord tab.

I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my notebook. I opened it to a blank page.

I wasn't going to write a diary entry. I was writing a plan.

I opened a new tab on the browser and pulled up the university's study abroad portal. I filtered the search to biochemistry programs.

ETH Zurich. The Swiss Federal Institute of Technology.

It was the best in the world. It was a guaranteed ticket out of here and into a top-tier lab. It was also incredibly expensive. The tuition and living expenses in Switzerland were massive.

I grabbed my pen. I wrote down the exact dollar amount I needed.

Then, I opened another tab. A luxury resale site.

I searched for the Cartier Love bracelet Finley had given me for our anniversary. I searched for the Chanel flap bag he bought for my birthday. I looked up the Tiffany necklace I kept in my drawer.

I scribbled the resale estimates next to the Zurich tuition cost.

The numbers aligned perfectly. It was more than enough.

I stared at the math for a long time. The girl who had been crying an hour ago was dead.

I closed the notebook with a sharp snap.

Chloe looked over at me, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "What are you doing?"

I looked at her, my voice completely steady.

"If they want to play a game," I said coldly, "I'm rewriting the rules."

I walked to my closet. I didn't reach for my oversized hoodies or my worn-out sweatpants. I reached for the tight, sheer black slip dress I had never dared to wear.

I sat at my vanity. I applied full-coverage foundation. I winged my eyeliner sharp enough to draw blood. I painted my lips a dark, glossy crimson.

I looked in the mirror. I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me.

Good.

I opened my phone, booking a flight to Lockhart for that exact afternoon.

In the afternoon, I stepped off the plane looking like a completely different person.

When I knocked on Finley’s door this time, he opened it and his jaw practically unhinged.

His eyes dragged down my body, taking in the red lips, the tight slip dress, the stilettos. He swallowed hard.

"Chazzer?" he breathed out, stunned.

"I came back to fix us," I purred, stepping into his room. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body flush against his.