The Governor's Daughter

Ruffled Roses

It was Monday morning, and Roman had dropped me off at school. He said he'd be watching and left. I walked into my classroom, and everything felt off. Everyone was avoiding me. People were gossiping about me in every circle, every clique. I knew it was the drug scandal. It had to be. Rumors spread so fast. It didn't make the press or CNN, or at least it was contained, debunked, and silenced before it escalated. How did they know? Oh, campus blogs. The club was close to the university. The story must have been shut down by now, but nothing that happens on campus goes unreported—especially when the governor's daughter is involved. Even though the story’s been suppressed nationally by my dad, what about school w******p group chats, mini gossip blogs, and school blogs? I was just imagining what they'd nickname me—Druggie, Stripper's Attraction, Slut. All kinds of names kept coming to my head.

I hated Rain even more now. We were at that club together, same table. All I remembered was her taking a call and leaving. I was too weak from the drugs and alcohol to call her back.

There she goes.

Rain walked in, not laughed at, not mocked—my parents didn't even mention her.

She barely sat down before I confronted her.

"Rain, what the hell? Why would you do this to me?"

"I'm still giving you time, Rain. Explain?"

She didn't say a word.

"b***h, are you deaf or something?" I snapped.

I immediately reached for her hood and pulled it down, revealing her braid.

"You are a Terri..."

I was shocked when I saw the bruise on her forehead.

She had carefully masked it with light makeup, but I was not insensitive enough not to notice. She was my best friend. I knew something was off.

"Rain, what happened?" I asked.

I quickly put her hoodie back on and took her to the restroom so we could talk privately.

"Rain?"

She looked at me.

"He was at the club."

"Who?"

"Nico."

"He saw us when we walked in, gave us some time, then left and phoned me. I got to the car. He took me home."

"He did this to you?" I was furious.

"Did he r**e you, Rain?"

She remained silent.

"Rain, he forced you."

"Keep your voice down," she said.

"This relationship is way too dangerous, Rain. Too dangerous. You need to end things with this guy."

"I mean, he's 40; you're just 18."

"A mafia boss—what do you expect?"

"Rain, you should go to the hospital. You don't want to have your sixth abortion..."

"Nico never uses a condom. It’s an abusive relationship, really, and they’ve been having s*x since she was 16."

"Everything about this relationship is wrong."

"Rain, you need to see a doctor."

"No, I can't. That would hurt my dad’s campaign," she replied.

"I’ll just wait and see what happens. Besides, it's my safe period," she said.

"I love Nico. He's everything to me. I won't let anyone take him away."

"It’s only a misunderstanding. I know he'll come around."

She was right.

It wasn't long. As soon as it was time for our break, he showed up at the school, bringing her a gift—as usual. Nico stepped out of the car with the slow confidence of a man who knew every eye was on him. In his hand, he carried a small red purse, the kind of red that doesn’t shout but smolders—deep and deliberate, like wine held up to sunlight.

The leather looked soft enough to bruise under a fingernail, its surface glowing with that quiet, expensive sheen that only carefully crafted items have. A thin gold chain hung from it, catching the afternoon light in sharp, guilty flashes.

Beside it, he held a single rose—long-stemmed, impossibly tall, petals unfurling as if gently persuaded open rather than grown. It was the kind of rose florists usually hide at the back for customers who know exactly what they want—something that carried its own delicate arrogance.

When he handed them to Rain, she touched the purse reverently, almost trembling, as if the gift could erase the bruise or rewrite the night before. The rose, she held close to her chest, breathing it in as if it offered her a new beginning.

I watched from the balcony as she jumped, hugged him, got into the car, and they sped off—probably to his house. We all knew what was going to go down.