◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆
I spent the entire weekend hiding in my apartment, ignoring texts from classmates who suddenly found me fascinating for all the wrong reasons. The humiliation replayed on loop as my own words, my deepest, most depraved fantasies, were read aloud in front of everyone while Darian Rho watched with those unreadable dark eyes that seemed to strip me bare without ever touching me.
Monday morning, I discovered my diary was missing.
Tuesday afternoon, the first text arrived from an unknown number: “Page 23. The elevator fantasy. Creative use of the emergency stop button.”
Wednesday: “Page 47. You have a thing for being watched, don’t you, Jessica? You want eyes on you while you come undone.”
By Thursday, I was a wreck. Each message quoted another explicit line, another sham
