Chapter 3
Chapter 3:
The coffee shop on campus was loud — a chaotic blend of hissing espresso machines and students complaining about midterms.
Eliza sat in the corner booth, clutching a latte like a lifeline. The caffeine was making her hands shake worse, but she needed it to cut through the fog in her brain.
Azalea sat opposite her, scrolling through Instagram with a grimace.
“Everybody is talking about how you vanished,” Azalea said, not looking up. “Claudine is posting passive-aggressive quotes about ‘loyalty’ and ‘trash taking itself out p>
Eliza flinched. A drop of foam spilled onto her thumb. “Let her talk p>
𝗕𝘦 𝘵𝗵𝗲 f𝗶𝗿𝘴𝘁 to 𝗿ea𝗱 𝗈𝗻 𝗀а𝗅𝗇𝗼vе𝗅𝘀.с𝗈𝗆
“Oh, I am,” Azalea said darkly. “I’m commenting with vomit emojis on every single post p>
Eliza reached for a napkin. As she moved, the cashmere scarf she was wearing slipped slightly to one side.
Azalea gasped.
The sound was loud enough that two people at the next table turned around. Azalea’s phone clattered onto the table.
“Eliza! What is that on your neck p>
Eliza’s hand flew to her throat. She felt the tender spot just below her ear — a dark, purplish bruise against her pale skin.
She had seen it in the mirror that morning and had been trying not to think about it. The memory of the night was hazy, obscured by alcohol. She remembered stumbling. She remembered Dallas catching her. Had he held her too tightly? Or was it something else? She couldn’t be sure, and the uncertainty was terrifying.
“It’s nothing,” Eliza stammered, pulling the scarf tighter. “The car door hit me on the way out this morning p>
“Bullshit,” Azalea hissed, leaning across the table. Her eyes were wide and predatory. “That is not a door. That’s a hickey — world-class, possessive, ‘stay away from her’ energy. Who is he p>
Eliza’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t say Your dad. She absolutely could not say that.
“It’s complicated,” Eliza said, staring into her cup. “An older guy p>
Azalea’s eyebrows shot up. “Older? Like… Anson’s age p>
“Older,” Eliza whispered.
Azalea opened her mouth to scream, but her phone cut her off — vibrating violently against the wooden table, its screen flashing a contact name: The Bank.
That was her name for Dallas.
Azalea answered immediately, her posture straightening on instinct. “Yes, Daddy p>
Eliza held her breath. She could hear the deep rumble of Dallas’s voice on the other end, though she couldn’t make out the words. The sound alone made the hair on her arms stand up.
Azalea frowned. “Right now? But we have class in an hour p>
She listened for another few seconds, then sighed. “Okay. Fine. We’re coming p>
She hung up and looked at Eliza, puzzled.
“He wants us at the flagship store downtown p>
Eliza’s stomach dropped. “Both of us p>
“Yeah. He says you need ‘appropriate attire’ for a dinner tonight p>
“Dinner?” Eliza squeaked.
“Apparently.” Azalea gathered her bag. “Come on. You don’t keep The Bank waiting p>
They walked back to the parking lot. The silver Aston Martin gleamed in the sun, drawing long stares from a group of fraternity guys lingering nearby.
Eliza unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat, the leather molding around her. She pressed the start button and the engine roared to life — a guttural growl that vibrated through the floorboards and up into her spine.
“You’ll get used to the high life eventually,” Azalea laughed, buckling her seatbelt.
Eliza pulled out of the lot and merged onto the main road toward the city. The skyline loomed ahead, glass towers throwing back the afternoon sun. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and adjusted the scarf, making sure the mark was covered.
Whether it was a bruise or something else entirely, Dallas had left it in a place that was difficult to hide. It felt like a brand.
The dashboard screen lit up. Eliza had paired her phone to the car’s Bluetooth earlier, and now a text notification bloomed across the center console, large and undeniable.
Sender: Anson Hyde Stop playing games. Come home. You belong here.
Azalea saw it. She let out a low whistle.
“He’s obsessed,” Azalea said, shaking her head. “It’s actually creepy. Good thing you have a new ‘older man’ to distract you p>
Eliza tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Good thing p>
She pressed down on the accelerator, putting distance between herself and the university, between herself and Anson. But the road ahead led straight toward the man who had put a ring on her finger and a mark on her neck — and she still had no idea what his game was.