Chapter 1 — Whispers in the Halls
People always said my father owned every room he walked into.
I used to believe them — until I realized I could walk into the same room and vanish.
At one of his charity galas, I remember standing in pale blue silk my mother had picked before
she died. People would take my hand politely, eyes already darting back to him. By the night's
end, my cheeks ached from smiling at strangers who forgot my name before letting go.
That’s when it sank in: being Robert Morgan’s daughter meant being a shadow.
My mother had been the only one who saw me. She remembered cinnamon on my cocoa, the
way I hated thunderstorms, the way I laughed when no one else did. She called me her light.
She’s been gone five years, and the house has been dim.
So I built my world elsewhere.
Jade, my best friend, filled the sister-shaped hole.
Luke, my boyfriend, promised me love where my father gave silence.
It wasn’t much, but it kept me from crumbling.
October burned the campus in red and gold, mornings sharp as broken glass. Whispers rode the
air that day, thin and cutting.
“She has no idea.”
“Everyone else knows.”
The words followed me like gnats. By the time I reached the library, the knot in my chest had
tightened. Somebody was being lied to. Somebody was about to shatter.
I told myself it couldn’t be me.
Jade was already perched at our table, glossy and perfect as always. She didn’t even look up.
“You’re late.”
“It’s nine-oh-two,” I said, dropping into the seat.
“Still late.” Her smile was sharp enough to slice.
I opened my laptop, trying to ignore the looks and whispers bleeding across the room. “What’s
with everyone today? Gossip’s insane.”
Jade twirled her straw, voice soft, eyes too bright. “Let’s just say… you’re lucky Luke notices
you. Most guys wouldn’t.”
My throat tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her laugh was sweet, her words were poisoned honey. “Relax. I’m saying he’s different. He sees
you.”
It should’ve comforted me. Instead, it stung like she’d pinched a bruise.
“Right.”
She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Secrets never stay hidden for long, Bri. Whoever’s
messing up? They’ll get caught.”
The way her gaze lingered on me made my stomach knot.
The library doors opened. The hum of chatter faltered.
He walked in like he owned the oxygen. Broad shoulders under a dark jacket, stride slow but
sure, hair falling into sharp, unreadable eyes.
Malik Hayes.
I’d never spoken to him, but his reputation carried like smoke. Expelled once. Fights. His family
was ruined years ago, and now clawing back from the ashes. None of it has been confirmed. All
of it whispered.
As he passed, a nervous freshman muttered a “Hey.” Malik’s mouth curved — a flash of a smile,
disarmingly kind. Then gone, his face iced back to stone.
Conversations stuttered, eyes followed. And then his gaze pinned me.
Not casual. Not curious. Heavy, as if he already knew my cracks, my faults.
Heat crawled up my neck before I tore my eyes away.
“Careful,” Jade murmured, watching me watch him. “That one’s dangerous. The kind your dad
would never let near you.”
“Good,” I muttered, but my pulse betrayed me.
As he moved past, I swore I heard him murmur under his breath — low, bitter: “Morgan’s
daughter.”
My chest tightened. How did he—
The day bled away in fragments. By evening, I’d convinced myself the whispers were about
someone else. Until my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You should see where Luke is right now.
My fingers froze.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Glass Room. Back booth.
The Glass Room was the campus bar.
I should’ve deleted it. Instead, I grabbed my jacket.
The moment I stepped inside, sound swallowed me whole. Bass pounded through the floor, air
thick with sweat and beer. Lights strobed, blinding, disorienting.
I shoved through bodies, the floor sticky beneath my shoes. A stranger crashed into me, sloshing
beer across my shirt. Cold spread down my chest, and I shoved harder, heart pounding against
my ribs.
Then I heard it. Luke’s laugh. Familiar. Wrong.
I followed the sound. My stomach tightened with each step.
He was in the back booth, his hand knotted in a girl’s hair, mouth pressed to hers like she was
oxygen.
My heart plummeted. For a second, I prayed it was anyone else. Some random girl.
Then she shifted.
Jade.
The bass shook my chest, but it was nothing compared to the hollow collapse inside me.
Luke’s eyes flew open, shock flashing as he yanked back. “Bri—”
The glass in my hand tipped before thought could stop it. Ice and liquid crashed over him,
soaking his shirt.
The music faltered. The crowd stilled.
Jade only smirked, leaning into him, voice syrup-sweet but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Guess secrets don’t stay hidden, huh?”
The words hit harder than the betrayal itself.
From the shadows, slow clapping cut the silence.
One. Two. Three.
Malik Hayes stepped forward, cigarette glowing between his fingers. His eyes flicked over me,
amused, assessing, like he’d been waiting.
“Finally,” he said, voice low, curling like smoke. “Now you’re interesting.”
I shoved out into the night air, the cold slapping my soaked shirt. My chest burned, my throat
tight, but I couldn’t stop walking.
Footsteps followed.
“Go away,” I snapped, but the voice that answered made my pulse spike.
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to see the truth.”
He leaned under the streetlamp, smoke curling around sharp features. Malik.
I crossed my arms. “And you care because…?”
He took a drag, eyes gleaming. “Because you look like someone who hates losing. And I like
that.”
“Who even are you?”
His smile was faint, unsettling. “Someone who knows exactly how to make people pay.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sure it is,” he said, voice rough. Then, softer, almost slipping: “You want blood. And I—” He
stopped himself, smirk sliding back into place. “Let’s just say I can help you spill it.”
My stomach twisted. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
He stepped closer, close enough that the smoke wrapped around me, bitter and dizzying. “Good.
I don’t offer help.”
He studied me for a beat, eyes dark, unreadable. Then his voice dropped, rawer, like he was
building the words as he spoke.
“What I offer is revenge. The kind that leaves scars.”
I swallowed, torn between fear and fury. “And if I said yes… what would I have to do?”
His mouth curved, slow and cruel.
“First,” he said, “you’ll have to become someone your father wouldn’t even recognize.”
