By noon, Halecrest had already decided what Rina Hale was.
Not a person. Not a student. A headline.
She felt it the second she stepped onto the quad. The air buzzed, sticky with attention. Conversations stalled mid-laugh. Eyes tracked her every step. Laughter tilted sharply, like knives. She moved through a spotlight she never asked for, every stare a small, hot weight on her skin.
Three months. That’s all she kept telling herself. Three months of pretending. Three months of noise. Then she’d get her quiet back.
The lie lasted exactly twenty seconds.
Her phone vibrated. Once. Twice. Then again.
Bree: Don’t freak out, but CampusWatch posted again.
Bree: About you.
Rina froze. Her thumb hovered. She shouldn’t open it. But curiosity has teeth. And Halecrest gossip loves blood.
The po
