Kianna's Pov:
I sat cross-legged on my dorm bed, knees pulled to my chest, phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles had gone white.
The screen was dark now, but the images were burned into my mind: Maddox's laughing face lit by the glow of someone else's phone, Emily stumbling, tears mixing with spilled beer, his friends jeering in the background.
The caption—"Beating your enemy at his own game"—felt like it was aimed straight at me.
I'd scrolled past it the first time, thinking it was just another rumor. Then I watched the videos three times going on the Fourth.
Each replay made my stomach twist harder until I had to drop the phone and press my palms to my eyes to stop the room from spinning.
How could I have been so stupid?
All those weeks of him being sweet—bringing me coffee exactly how I liked it, helping me to heal, texting good-night like clockwork—had felt real.
He'd looked me in the eyes and sworn he'd changed, that the old Maddox was gone.
