The Wrong Kind of Right

Chapter4

Chapter 4: Whispers and Warnings

Sophie stared at the photograph until the screen dimmed and went dark on its own, her thumb hovering uselessly over the glass. Someone had been inside that lecture hall with a camera pointed directly at her and Nate, close enough to capture the moment clearly, careful enough that neither of them had noticed a thing.

Her hands were not quite steady when she finally set the phone face down on the table.

“Sophie?” Priya’s voice cut through the ringing silence in her ears. “You went pale. What happened?”

Wordlessly, Sophie turned the phone back over and slid it across the table. Priya’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern in the span of a single second, her eyes scanning the photograph and the message beneath it twice before she looked up again.

“Okay, this is not a jealous ex thing,” Priya said quietly. “This is an actual problem.”

“I know.”

“Have you told Nate?”

“No.”

“Sophie.”

“I don’t even know what I would say,” Sophie admitted, rubbing her temple where a headache had begun forming. “Hey, someone’s stalking us and taking photographs from across the room, any idea who? It sounds insane.”

“It sounds true, which is worse.”

Sophie could not argue with that.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur, neither of them fully returning to the lighter conversation from before. Priya kept glancing toward the door where Nate and Camille had disappeared, as though expecting one of them to reappear with answers neither Sophie nor Priya currently possessed.

They did not.

By the time Sophie’s afternoon classes ended, the unease from lunch had settled into something closer to dread. She kept the phone in her bag rather than her pocket, as though putting physical distance between herself and the device might somehow lessen its power over her thoughts.

It did not help much.

Walking back toward her dorm, she noticed a familiar face jogging to catch up with her, easy smile firmly in place despite the slight furrow in his brow.

“Hey,” Harry called out, falling into step beside her. Sophie had met him briefly during orientation week, one of the few faces on campus that felt genuinely friendly rather than merely polite.

“Hey yourself.”

“You look like someone stole your lunch money.”

“Rough day.”

Harry studied her for a moment; his usual easy grin faded slightly. “You’ve been hanging around Nate Calloway a lot lately.”

Something in his tone made Sophie pause. “A little. Why?”

Harry hesitated, glancing around as though checking who might be listening before lowering his voice. “Just be careful, okay?”

Sophie’s stomach tightened. That was the second time in twenty four hours someone had warned her about Nate, and this time it came from someone with no obvious motive for jealousy or rivalry.

“Careful how?” she pressed. “What am I supposed to be careful of?”

“I don’t really know the details,” Harry admitted. “It’s mostly just rumors. Something happened with his family years ago. People don’t talk about it much, but everyone kind of knows there’s something there.”

“What kind of something?”

Harry shook his head. “Like I said, nobody really knows for sure. It’s more of a feeling than actual facts. I just figured you should hear it from someone who isn’t trying to scare you off or anything.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

“Fair point.” Harry offered an apologetic smile. “I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all. Nate’s not a bad guy, from what I’ve seen. But there’s clearly something following him around, and I’d hate for you to get caught up in it without knowing.”

Sophie considered his words carefully, the anonymous messages sitting heavily in the back of her mind. Two separate warnings now, from two entirely different sources, both pointing toward the same unsettling conclusion. Whatever secret surrounded Nate’s family, it was significant enough that people felt compelled to warn strangers away from him entirely.

“Thanks,” she said finally. “I think.”

Harry offered a small wave before jogging off toward his own dorm, leaving Sophie standing alone on the pathway with far more questions than she had started the day with.

That evening, Sophie sat cross legged on her bed, staring at her laptop screen while attempting, without much success, to search for information about the Calloway family scandal Priya had mentioned earlier. Most of the articles she found focused entirely on business ventures, hotel openings, and glowing profiles about the family’s philanthropic contributions. Nothing hinted at any kind of hidden controversy.

Whatever had happened, it had clearly been buried well.

Priya, sprawled across her own bed with a bag of chips balanced on her stomach, watched Sophie’s search with growing interest.

“Find anything?”

“Nothing. It’s like searching for a ghost.”

“Maybe it really is just rumors.”

“Maybe,” Sophie said, though she didn’t believe it. Rumors rarely inspired anonymous strangers to send threatening photographs.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Sophie nearly dropped the device entirely, her nerves already stretched thin from the day’s events. She exhaled in relief when she saw the sender’s name.

Nate.

You disappeared after lunch.

Sophie hesitated before responding, her fingers hovering over the screen while she debated how much to reveal. In the end, she settled for something simple.

Long afternoon. You okay? That was tense earlier.

The reply came a moment later.

Camille and I have history. Complicated history. Sorry you got dragged into it.

Sophie frowned at the screen, curiosity pulling at her despite the unease still lingering from the photograph.

What kind of history?

The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.

Sophie considered pushing further, but something about his hesitance told her this was not a conversation meant for text messages. Instead, she changed the subject, allowing the exchange to drift into lighter territory, complaints about coursework and campus food, the kind of easy back and forth that had begun feeling remarkably natural over the past two days.

By the time she set her phone down for the night, the warmth from their conversation had softened some of the day’s earlier tension, though it did not erase it entirely. The photograph remained saved in her messages, a quiet reminder that somewhere out there, someone was paying far closer attention than either of them realized.

The following morning, Sophie arrived early to her economics class, hoping the extra time might help settle the unease still tangled in her chest. She found a seat near the middle of the room and pulled out her notebook, grateful for the few quiet minutes before the lecture hall filled completely.

She did not expect Nate to slide into the seat beside her.

“This is new,” she said, glancing at him in surprise. “You’re usually late.”

“I decided to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.”

He smiled, though something behind his eyes looked slightly more guarded than usual, as though the conversation from the night before still lingered somewhere in his thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly, leaning slightly closer.

“Depends on the question.”

“Has anyone said anything strange to you lately? About me, I mean.”

Sophie’s pulse quickened. She considered lying, brushing off the question the same way he had brushed off hers the day before, but something about his tone, careful and unusually serious, made her hesitate.

“A little,” she admitted. “Why?”

Nate’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “What kind of strange?”

Before Sophie could decide how much to reveal, the professor began the lecture, effectively cutting off any further conversation. Nate’s expression remained tense throughout the class, his usual easy confidence replaced by something far more guarded, his eyes occasionally flicking toward her as though trying to read the answer she had not yet given him.

The moment class ended, he turned to her immediately.

“Sophie.”

“Not here,” she said quietly, glancing around at the students filing out around them. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Something flickered across his face, concern mixed with something closer to fear. “Yeah. Of course.”

They found a quiet bench near the edge of campus, shaded beneath a large oak tree, far enough from the main pathways that their conversation would not be easily overheard. Sophie took a steadying breath before pulling out her phone.

“I got a message,” she said carefully. “Two, actually.”

She showed him the first, the simple warning to stay away, watching his expression darken with each word. Then she showed him the second.

The photograph.

Someone is always watching.

Nate went completely still, his eyes fixed on the screen for several long seconds before he finally looked up, and whatever composure he usually carried so effortlessly had disappeared entirely, replaced by something raw and unmistakably afraid.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Unknown number. Both times.”

He stared at the photograph again, his jaw clenched so tightly Sophie could see the muscle working beneath his skin.

“Nate,” she said carefully. “What’s going on? Who would be watching us?”

For a long moment, he said nothing at all, his silence stretching heavier and heavier between them, until finally he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think I know who sent this.”

Before Sophie could ask him to explain, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He pulled it out, and the color drained instantly from his face as he read whatever message had just arrived.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly, standing so quickly the bench shifted beneath him.

“Nate, wait.”

But he was already walking away, his phone clutched tightly in one hand, his shoulders set with a tension that had not been there moments before, leaving Sophie alone beneath the oak tree with far more questions than answers, and a growing certainty t

hat whatever secret Nate was hiding, it was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.