Chapter 2

2

I made sure to speak loudly. "You weren't at work. Why were you at the library?"

I knew this wouldn't prove everything yet. But planting a seed of doubt in everyone's mind was enough.

Grayson had a script ready, but my interruption had rattled him.

"It was for you," he said, his voice dropping into a fake, tender tone. "You mentioned you couldn't find a seat lately. I came early to save a spot for you."

He reached out to stroke my hair with a charred hand. I stepped back, avoiding him.

Get your filthy, soot-covered hands off me.

You make my skin crawl.

His excuse was clever. Everyone knew we were a couple. Saving a seat for a girlfriend seemed perfectly normal.

But Grayson forgot one thing. I never studied at the library. I had my own private penthouse off-campus.

Maybe he didn't forget. Maybe he just didn't care.

In his mind, I was a puppet who would agree with anything he said. Even a lie this pathetic would usually work on me.

But that was fine. I had plenty of time.

The school eventually ruled the fire as an accident. The official report blamed a short circuit caused by rats chewing through the wiring.

The school wasn't wrong. But what if the rats were placed there by a human?

Right after the investigation, I begged my advisor for a leave of absence.

Including my past life, it had been ten years since I last saw my parents.

When I hugged my mom and cried like a baby, she just laughed and said I was still a kid.

"I told you she couldn't handle being away from us. Honey, why don't I just move into your penthouse to take care of you?"

I shook my head, noticing my dad's face was as dark as coal.

Finally, my dad asked if I was being bullied at school.

My nose stung with unshed tears.

It was so good to see them again.

After dinner, my dad asked about the fire. I brushed it off with a few vague comments.

Then I remembered something else I needed to handle at home.

"Dad, remember that student I asked you to sponsor? Stop the payments. Send that money to foster kids in the countryside instead."

My father didn't ask questions. He just told his secretary to get it done.

During all of this, I ignored every single text from Grayson.

I opened the university's anonymous confession page. Every night at seven, a secret admirer posted a message to Cora Jenkins.

It had been happening since freshman year.

Everyone was gossiping about who this pathetic loser was.

"Is this guy crazy? Cora is a rich heiress. He thinks he stands a chance? What a delusional creep."

"Anyone who only posts anonymously is either broke or ugly."

I knew exactly who it was.

It was my boyfriend, Grayson Wilde.

I remembered how we met. It was during a debate competition.

I was on the affirmative side, and he was on the negative.

The topic was whether love requires material wealth to survive.

The result? My side lost miserably. He won.

That was when I noticed him.

His denim jacket was faded from too many washes, but there wasn't a hint of insecurity in his eyes. He claimed that everyone is equal in the face of love and that money can't buy it.

Later, we started interacting more. We debated and studied together.

His knowledge wasn't what attracted me.

It was the brokenness in his eyes.

Grayson grew up in an orphanage. His tuition was paid through student loans.

When he spoke about it, he wasn't ashamed. He told me, "I want to work hard so there are fewer people like me in this world."

He was struggling himself, yet he still wanted to help others.

It was enough to make me fall for him.

I was the one who chased him. My friends warned me not to be impulsive, but I just laughed and said they didn't understand true love.

Looking back, I was the real clown.

Grayson's target had been me from the very beginning.