NOVA POV
"Who owns this shirt?"
Lena’s voice cracked through the room like a whip, yanking out of sleep.
"Are you looking for yours?" Katie groaned, dragging the blanket over her head.
"Who. Owns. This. Shirt."
Lena’s tone had shifted. no longer annoyed, but deadly calm. The kind of calm that only ca before a storm.
"Bitch, shut up. It’s too early."
"It’s past ten. Rise and shine, motherfuckers."
I stretched lazily, hoping to shake the grogginess out of my limbs. The ache between my thighs humd with the mory of Grant’s hands, his mouth, his body.
A beautiful but dangerous, sharper, sinful reminder of last night, and the sharp, crueler, sting at my neck where Sandy’s knife had grazed was a harsher reminder of how that night ended.
Sweet turned sour. Love turned venom
Two truths from one night: pleasure and threat.
"Which shirt?" I muttered, yawning as I pushed off the bed. Halfway to the bathroom, I froze. Then it hit , cold and heavy: I hadn’t hidden Grant’s shirt. I’d stripped out of it, pulled on my pajamas, and dumped it like an idiot. Out in the open
"This shirt." Lena’s eyes burned into , holding up the crisp fabric. "How do you have my daddy’s shirt?"
My stomach dropped through the floor. My tongue scrambled for words, excuses, anything.
"What do you an your daddy’s shirt? What, is it custom-stitched only for him?" My voice wobbled, but I forced the sarcasm out.
"Yes. Actually." She shoved the tag into my face. Armani. And under it: Grant Calloway His na printed bold as day.
I couldn’t breathe. Lies piled in my throat but none would co out.
"How did you—"
A sharp knock rattled the door. All three of us froze.
Another knock. Louder.
"Which one of you—" Katie started, but the third knock silenced her.
Lena stomped to the door and flung it open.
"Yes?"
The voice outside was muffled, but the next second Lena turned, arms full of flowers and packages.
"Nova, you need to sign this."
Nova. My pulse went wild.
I rushed forward, and the sight at the door sent stumbling back.
Sandy.
All sugary smile and bright eyes like she hadn’t been whispering death threats at less than twelve hours ago.
"Th-thank you," I managed, my hands trembling as I signed.
"Lena Calloway, right?" she asked sweetly, turning to Lena.
"Yes. Who the fuck is asking?"
"I’m Sandy. And I’ve got information you’ll want."
Lena blinked, caught off guard. "Really? Should we talk in private?"
No. No, no, no. My chest clamped tight.
"You can’t," I blurted, panic slicing through . "It’s not safe. We’ll mind our business here, won’t we, Katie?"
Katie, always the gossip hound, nodded too eagerly.
But Sandy’s smile sharpened like the knife I’d seen last night. "No. It has to be private. This is about soone you love. And what you need to do to save him from this evil girl’s clutch."
Evil girl. My skin crawled.
"Alright. Fill in," Lena said slowly, suspicious but curious.
"I want sothing in exchange."
Their voices trailed down the hall as they walked away, but I could still feel Sandy’s shadow in the room. In my chest. In my throat.
I stood frozen, hands shaking so bad the flowers nearly slipped from my grip. Katie’s stare pinned in place.
"What?" I snapped, voice cracking like glass.
"Your flowers." She smirked, leaning in. "Let’s see if your boyfriend’s at it again."
"I don’t have a boyfriend." My voice ca out sharp, too sharp, like I was cutting myself with it.
"So you say."
The bouquet carried Luca’s usual theatrics, his fake obsession dripping in every line: You’ve been seeing another man, mia cara. Your punishnt is to wear this for a month straight.
I shoved it aside before Katie could read more, but my hands shook harder.
Then I saw it. A small package, neat and delicate. The note taped underneath stopped my heart.
It’s nice to have you close again.
No signature. But it was definitely Grant.
My fingers ripped the wrapping. A necklace fell into my palm, blue gemstone, vintage, breathtaking. And a proof of his promise.
"This is insane," Katie gasped. "Who sends stuff like this? Who is he?"
No one. Soone. The man I wasn’t supposed to have.
"It’s just an admirer." My voice sounded dead, like I wasn’t alive and bubbling within .
Katie wasn’t convinced. "An admirer who gifts vintage gemstones? Please. Spill."
"There’s nothing."
She huffed and walked off, but I knew she will co back to this later. My heart fluttered against the necklace like a trapped bird.
For one second, I allowed myself to feel warmth. To feel chosen.
Then the door burst open again. Lena stord inside, snatched Grant’s shirt, and turned to leave.
"Wait—what for?" My voice cracked.
"It’s for my dad." She was already halfway out.
"So?"
She spun, eyes wide with disbelief. "Sandy said it belongs to her. You won’t believe it—she and my dad are a thing. I’ll gist you later."
The door slamd shut behind her.
And my heart broke.
The necklace weighed heavy on my chest, dragging down, pressing against the wound Sandy had ripped open.
The shirt wasn’t hers. It was mine. He gave it to . But Sandy had claid it like she claid everything, twisting truth into a weapon. And Lena believed her.
I stood there, shaking, drowning, fury and fear choking until I could hardly see.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw Sandy’s lies apart with my bare hands.
But all I could do was stay silent. Stay small and lay low. While praying that she doesn’t burn alive with the truth.
I sat back on the bed, necklace cold against my throat, palms pressed to my eyes like I could block it all out if I just squeezed hard enough.
But the voices carried back through the thin hostel walls. Lena’s sharp tone, Sandy’s honey-dripped poison. The kind of tone that said listen to , I’m telling you the truth.
Every word was a dagger I couldn’t hear but felt anyway.
My mind spiraled.
What if Lena believed her?
What if Sandy showed her the video, the one of Grant holding , his mouth too close, his dominance unmistakable?
What if she texted her dad right now, demanding the truth?
I’d be finished.
My scholarship gone.
My future gone.
I’d be nothing more than the small-town orphan girl who clawed her way into a life she couldn’t afford, only to ruin it by falling into bed with the wrong man.
I pressed harder into my eyes until stars sparked.
Katie’s voice cut through the fog. "You’re shaking, Nova."
"I’m fine." The lie ca out thin and useless. Even the blind can see I’m not fine.
She squinted at like she was dissecting . "No, you’re not. You look like you’re about to throw up. What the fuck’s going on?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing doesn’t make your hands tremble like that."
The walls muffled another burst of laughter. Sandy’s laugh. Lena’s quieter, uncertain.
Terror prickled my skin. I wanted to run, to grab Lena by the shoulders and scream that Sandy was lying, that she was dangerous, unhinged. But I couldn’t. Because the second I opened my mouth, Sandy would open hers.
And she had ammo.
The shirt. The video. The truth.
Katie was still watching . Too closely.
So I grabbed the bouquet of Luca’s suffocating roses and shoved it at her.
"You want gossip? Here. You can keep the flowers. Maybe he’ll write you a note next ti."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "So there is a guy."
I laughed, brittle and sharp. "Isn’t there always?"
It bought silence. But not peace. Because the next second, the door opened again.
Lena stepped back inside. Her face wasn’t stormy. It wasn’t even confused. It was worse.
It was blank.
Sandy clutched Grant’s shirt to her chest like a weapon with her smile as sharp as broken glass.
Lena’s gaze landed on . Heavy. Searching.
And in that second, I knew deep down in that Sandy had already begun to poison her.
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