Penelope's POV
I don't sleep for the rest of the night. By the time my alarm goes off at six, I'm already dressed and pacing my room like a caged animal. The revelation about Dad, about Marcus Blackthorn's lies, burns in my chest.
I need to tell someone before I explode.
Isla's always been an early riser, but even she looks surprised when I knock on her door at 6:30 AM with coffee and pastries from the campus café.
"Either someone died or you have major gossip," she says, opening her door wider to let me in. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she's already in workout clothes.
"Both," I say, setting the coffee on her desk. "Well, not literally dead. But close."
She takes one look at my face and sits down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. "Okay, spill. What happened?"
