Chapter 3 – The Disease
1359 Words
The world narrowed to the sound of my name.
“Briella Morgan.”
I jerked my head up, pulse already kicking against my ribs. My professor’s voice cut across the
lecture hall, clipped, sharp, carrying too easily over the rows of students. Heads swiveled. My
skin prickled under the weight of their stares.
“Outside,” he said. Not a question.
My legs moved on instinct, carrying me down the aisle while whispers followed. My throat
cinched like a fist was closing around it.
The door shut behind us with a hollow slam. The hallway smelled faintly of chalk and floor
polish, the kind of sterile scent that made everything worse.
My professor crossed his arms, lips pressed tight. He held out his phone. On the screen — me.
My own face, smiling shyly, damp hair clinging to my shoulders. Bra straps, the thin band of
lace panties. Luke’s name glowing at the top of the screenshot.
My vision wavered.
“What is this, Briella?” His voice cracked with restrained fury. “Do you have any idea the
damage this does to the university’s reputation? To your father’s? Aren’t you ashamed?”
Ashamed. The word sank claws into me.
Students streamed past on their way to other classes, eyes flicking toward me, whispering. My
knees locked, the floor tilting under me.
“I—It’s not—”
“Save it.” His tone went colder.
And just like that, he turned, leaving me to crumble against the wall.
I barely made it outside before the bile hit the back of my throat. The air was sharp, too bright.
And then I saw him.
Luke, leaning against a bench, scrolling his phone. As if nothing in the world had cracked open.
“Luke,” I rasped.
He glanced up, expression annoyed before smoothing into something almost pitying.
“Bri.” He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I was gonna text you.”
My voice came jagged. “You did this?”
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair like I was the one exhausting him. “Look, I didn’t mean
for it to blow up like this.”
“You didn’t mean—” My voice cracked. “It’s my body, Luke!”
“I know, okay?” His jaw worked. Then, softer: “But don’t make this bigger than it is.”
Bigger? My vision spotted. “People are laughing at me. My professor saw—”
“Bri.” His voice sharpened, cutting me off. “I never wanted you.”
The world tilted. “What?”
He shifted his weight, eyes darting toward the quad, anywhere but my face. “From the start, it
was Jade. She told me if I dated you, if I played along, she’d give me a chance. You were just…
part of the deal.”
The words carved me open.
“A deal?” My voice was raw.
Luke smirked, cruel. “Don’t look at me like that. You were practice, Bri. Place-holder. A
warm-up until Jade was ready.”
Something in me snapped. “So all of it—every kiss, every ‘I love you’—was nothing?”
“Nothing?” He laughed once, hollow. “It was something. It was the price of having jade.”
My hands shook so badly I had to clutch the strap of my bag to steady myself. “I hate you.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Guess it’s mutual now.”
I stumbled away before he could see me shatter.
That night, the library was silent. Too silent. The kind that pressed against your eardrums until
you wanted to scream just to break it.
Malik sat in the farthest corner, sprawled in the chair like it was a throne. A lamp above him
flickered once, buzzing faintly, throwing his face in and out of shadow.
“You came,” he said, voice smooth as glass.
I stopped three steps away, clutching my books like a shield. “What do I have to do?”
His lips curved, not kind. He rose slowly, circling me, footsteps soft against the carpet. The air
seemed to bend with him, heavy, dangerous.
“What do you have to do?” He let the words drip slow. “Revenge isn’t about fairness, angel. It’s
about control. You want it? Then prove you’re willing to bleed first.”
My mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?”
His smile sharpened. “Post it yourself. Take Jade’s little story and make it yours. Tell the whole
world you begged Luke. That you were desperate. That you don’t care who knows.”
The floor seemed to lurch. “You want me to humiliate myself?”
“No.” He leaned closer, breath brushing my ear. “I want you to own it. If you can turn shame into
a weapon, they can’t use it against you. Destroy yourself, Briella. Only then will you know how
to destroy them.”
I stared at him, horror strangling me. His eyes gleamed, hungry.
“You’re insane,” I whispered.
He chuckled low, leaning back. “So what will it be, angel?”
My lips trembled. “I… I need to think.”
“Of course you do.” He laughed softly, the sound colder than silence. “Take all the time you
want.”
His gaze lingered one last second, then he walked past me, shadows swallowing him whole.
And I was left trembling, heart pounding like a snare drum.
Back in my dorm, I stood under the shower until my skin burned, but it didn’t wash anything off.
Not the whispers. Not the picture. Not Luke’s smirk.
When I checked my phone, the world had already swallowed me. Screenshots. Posts. Comments
stacked under my name like a burial mound.
She’s disgusting.
If I were her father, I’d disown her.
Daddy’s money won’t clean this mess.
My chest constricted, air catching.
Then — my phone lit.
Dad.
My hands shook so violently I almost dropped it. The first call, I let ring out. The second, I
forced myself to swipe.
Silence.
“Briella.” His voice was sharp enough to cut. “What have you done?”
Tears blurred my vision. “Dad—it’s not what you think, I can explain—”
“I don’t want excuses.” His breath hissed through the line. “Do you have any idea what this
means? For me? For our family?”
“I—please, just listen—”
A pause. Then, softer, almost broken: “Do you ever think what this would do to your mother if
she were alive? You’ve already shamed me.”
“I wish your mother were here. She’d know what to say.”
My heart splintered. “Dad—”
“I can’t do this anymore, Briella. I don’t know what to say to you. But I am… terribly
disappointed.”
The silence after that sentence was worse than any shouting could’ve been.
He sighed. “You’re still my daughter. I’ll fix this. Focus on your studies. Stay out of the
headlines.”
And then the line went dead.
I collapsed to the floor, phone clattering beside me.
Every shred of hope left in me dissolved.
Why me. Why always me. What did I ever do?
Jade. Luke. My father. All of them taking and taking until there was nothing left.
My chest heaved. My voice broke into the stillness. “Enough.”
Jade and Luke started this. I’ll finish it.
My fingers were steady as I pulled up Malik’s number.
“It’s a deal,” I whispered into the phone.
There was silence on the other end, and then his voice, low, velvet, venom:
“Good. You’re not your father’s daughter anymore… oh, Briella.” His whisper slid in, cold and
heavy. “Revenge won’t be your weapon. It’s your disease. And I’ll watch it spread.”
The whisper slithered over my skin, wrapping tight like chains I couldn’t break.
“And tomorrow,” he added, the faintest smile audible in his tone, “we begin.”
- Writer
