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1095 Words
Emma didn’t sleep.
She told herself it was because her mattress sucked and the dorm heat was broken again. But that was a lie.
She didn’t sleep because her brain kept looping the kiss. The grip of his hands. The heat. The way he didn’t say goodbye. Jace Carter had a habit of making her feel like a glitch in his system … something to be touched, then deleted.
She shouldn’t have kissed him back.
She shouldn’t have let him near her at all.
But she had. And now, in the light of Monday morning, she felt stupid for expecting anything other than silence.
He was back on campus like nothing happened. Laughing with his friends. Wearing that same gray hoodie she’d pulled on during the night like it was armor. The same one that had her perfume still clinging to it like dust.
He walked past her in the quad.
Didn’t look at her.
Didn’t flinch.
Like she never happened.
Her chest went tight. She took a step forward, but someone bumped into her shoulder.
“Sorry,” a girl muttered, not looking.
Emma caught the glint of her phone screen. Her own face stared back at her.
No. No. No.
The photo was grainy, but real. She knew that angle … the firelight behind her, her hair half-tied, his mouth on hers. Her eyes were shut, but her hand gripped the front of Jace’s hoodie like she was drowning in him.
Emma’s heart stopped.
She yanked her phone from her pocket. Nothing from Jace. No messages. No warnings.
Her notifications were blowing up.
@campuschatter: Fire & Desire
@emmaexposed: Is this your scholarship queen? Damn girl.
DM from unknown: Nice work, pornstar. What’d he pay you with?
Emma couldn’t breathe. She looked around. Students were staring. Whispering. She heard someone snicker. She wanted to run. But her legs were locked. Her blood felt cold.
She walked straight to the admin office. She didn’t cry. Not in public.
By the time she reached her advisor’s desk, her hands were trembling.
“There’s been… a photo,” she started.
The woman looked up slowly. “We know.”
Emma blinked. “I didn’t give anyone permission…”
“Emma,” the advisor said, “The university has to investigate. You’re a scholarship student. There’s a morality clause…”
“It was a kiss,” she snapped. “A kiss someone photographed without my consent.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“But I’m the one under review.”
Silence.
“I didn’t break any rules,” Emma whispered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her advisor sighed. “Intent doesn’t always matter in public perception.”
Emma walked out of that office shaking. She wanted to scream. To punch something. To crawl into bed and disappear.
Instead, she checked her phone again.
Another message.
This one had a file attached. Audio.
She clicked it without thinking.
What she heard wasn’t her.
But it sounded like her.
Breathless moaning. Her voice … or something horrifyingly close … gasping, “Yes, Jace… more.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
It wasn’t her. She hadn’t said that. She hadn’t made that sound.
It was fake.
A deepfake.
Someone had taken her voice. Manipulated it. Turned it into porn.
And now the entire campus had it.
She ran. Straight across the quad, not caring who saw her. Not caring who called after her. She burst into the library like a storm and scanned the shelves until she found him.
Jace.
Alone at a table. Flipping through a textbook like the world hadn’t exploded around them.
He looked up … and saw her coming.
Emma slammed her phone on the table.
“Did you see this?” she asked.
His eyes skimmed the screen. His jaw twitched. “Where’d you get it?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I didn’t send that.”
“You didn’t stop it either.”
“I didn’t know it existed.”
“Oh, just like you didn’t know someone was filming us while you kissed me?”
He stood. “I didn’t film anything.”
“No, you just let it happen. You let your friends laugh at me. You let them leak a photo of me with you and now the whole school thinks I’m…” Her voice broke. “They think I’m some slut who faked her grades to get a scholarship.”
His voice stayed low. Controlled. “It’ll blow over.”
She laughed, bitter. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’re threatening to investigate. You’re not the one getting death threats in your DMs.”
His face changed at that.
But she didn’t care anymore.
“I hate you,” she whispered. “And I hope you rot in your privilege.”
She turned to go. But someone was already there.
Blocking the aisle.
Elias Ward.
Black shirt. Sharp smile. Calm eyes that made her feel like she was on a chessboard and he already knew how the game ended.
“Hey,” he said, casual as a sigh. “Rough morning?”
Emma stared at him.
He nodded to her phone. “That video. That wasn’t an accident.”
“No kidding.”
“It was made. On purpose.”
She blinked. “What?”
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Just quiet Serious.
“Someone took your voice and warped it. I traced the original. I know where it came from.”
Emma’s throat went dry. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t like when people get ruined without a fight.”
“I didn’t ask you to fight for me.”
“I’m not fighting for you,” Elias said softly. “I’m offering you a sword.”
He slipped something into her hoodie pocket.
A flash drive.
“Use it when you’re ready.”
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
He leaned in. “He won’t protect you, Emma.”
Her heart thudded.
“But I might.”
Emma didn’t move as Elias walked away. She stood there, her heart thudding against her ribs, the flash drive burning in her pocket like it might set her skin on fire.
The truth wasn’t just ugly.
It was planned.
They didn’t just humiliate her. They orchestrated it.
And Jace?
He wasn’t innocent.
He was just silent.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
They thought she’d cry.
They thought she’d break.
But now?
Now she had proof.
And she was done playing nice.
- Writer
