SCARLETT POV
"She wants you to marry her?" I can't keep the shock from my voice. "She destroyed your life and now she wants you back?"
Adrian stares at his phone like it's a weapon. "She never wanted me. She wants to own me. Control my art. Use my talent to fuel her career while I disappear into the background."
"So we tell her to go to hell," Maya says. "Right? We're telling her to go to hell?"
"And let her send an innocent man to jail for fake harassment charges?" Adrian's voice is hollow. "Let her destroy Scarlett's scholarship? Get you expelled?"
"Yes!" I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. "Because if you give in to her, she wins. She gets everything. And you lose yourself forever."
"Better me than all three of us."
"No." My voice comes out fiercer than I intend. "You don't get to make that choice alone. This is my life too. Maya's life. We get a say."
Adrian looks at me, and something passes between us. Something intense and terrifying and absolutely wrong for a professor and student to feel.
But we're way past wrong now.
"Ten minutes," Maya says, checking her phone. "We need to decide. Do we go to the gallery or do we run?"
"Running doesn't work," Adrian says. "She'll hunt us down. She always does."
"Then we go." I straighten my shoulders. "We walk in there together, and we beat her at her own game."
"How?" Adrian demands. "She has fake evidence. Fake witnesses. She murdered someone and got away with it. She's always three steps ahead."
"Because she's been fighting alone." I pull out my phone, opening the encrypted app. "But so have we. What if we stop playing by her rules? What if we bring in reinforcements?"
I start typing frantically. Messages to people I haven't talked to in months. Favors I'm calling in.
"What are you doing?" Maya asks.
"Fighting back." I look up at them. "Vanessa thinks she's the only one with connections. She's wrong."
Five minutes later, we're in Adrian's car, racing toward the Ashford Gallery. My phone keeps buzzing with responses. Plans forming. Pieces moving.
"This is insane," Adrian mutters, driving too fast. "This is absolutely insane."
"You got a better idea?" Maya asks from the backseat.
"Yes. About fifty better ideas. All of which involve you two being safe and me handling this alone."
"Too late." I watch the gallery building come into view. "We're here."
Adrian parks. We sit in silence for a moment, staring at the modern glass building. Inside, I can see people moving. Setting up for the exhibition. And somewhere in there, Vanessa is waiting.
"Last chance to back out," Adrian says quietly.
I open my door. "Not backing out."
The gallery entrance is unlocked. We walk in together—me, Adrian, and Maya—like we're walking into battle. Which maybe we are.
The main gallery space is huge and empty, paintings covered in cloth waiting for tomorrow's exhibition opening. But in the center of the room, there's a single spotlight shining on a small table. Two chairs.
And Vanessa Chen, sitting in one of them like a queen on a throne.
She's beautiful in person. Dark hair perfectly styled, red lips curved in a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Expensive dress that probably costs more than my entire scholarship. She looks like success.
She looks like a monster.
"Adrian." Her voice is warm honey. "I'm so glad you came. And you brought the little student. How sweet."
"Where's my brother?" Adrian's voice is ice.
"Marcus? He's in the back office. On the phone with the university board. Discussing your termination." Vanessa stands gracefully. "Don't worry. If you agree to my terms, I'll have him call them back. Tell them it was all a misunderstanding."
"Your terms," I say, stepping forward. "Let me guess. Adrian comes back to you, gives you his art, and becomes your personal puppet forever?"
Vanessa's eyes slide to me. "And who are you, exactly? Besides the collateral damage?"
"I'm the girl who's going to ruin you."
She laughs. Actually laughs. "Adorable. Adrian, where did you find her? She's got spirit. Shame she's about to lose everything."
"You're bluffing," Maya says. "The harassment charges won't stick. No physical evidence. No real victim."
"Won't they?" Vanessa pulls out her phone, shows us screenshots. Text messages between Adrian's number and an unknown number. Explicit messages. Inappropriate offers. "These will stick. Because they came from Adrian's actual phone number. Which I had cloned three weeks ago."
My stomach drops. "That's illegal."
"Prove it." Vanessa's smile widens. "By the time anyone investigates, Adrian will be arrested. His career will be over. Again. And you, sweet Scarlett, will lose your scholarship for being involved with a sexual predator. Maya will be expelled for helping cover it up. Everyone loses."
"Unless Adrian agrees to marry you," I finish.
"Now you're catching on." Vanessa walks closer to Adrian, reaching up to touch his face. He flinches away. "It's simple, darling. Come back to me. Let me take credit for your beautiful art. Be my perfect, silent husband. And everyone you care about stays safe."
"For how long?" Adrian asks quietly. "How long before you get bored and destroy me anyway?"
"Maybe forever. Maybe a week. Does it matter?" Vanessa shrugs. "The alternative is so much worse."
"Show him," I say suddenly. "Show him the Prague video. The real one."
Vanessa's smile falters. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. The one where you told Dimitri where Elena was hiding. The one that proves you got her killed." I pull out my phone. "Because I have it too. Funny thing about cloud storage. Once something's uploaded, it's never really gone."
I'm bluffing. I don't have the video. But Vanessa doesn't know that.
Her face goes pale. "That's impossible. I deleted—"
"You deleted it from your phone. Not from the backup server your phone automatically syncs to." I step closer. "Turns out, my roommate before Jennifer? She worked in IT. She taught me a few tricks about data recovery. And about finding things people want hidden."
It's all lies. But Vanessa's panicking. I can see it.
"You're lying," she says, but her voice wavers.
"Am I?" I show her my phone. A video file ready to play. It's not the Prague video—it's just a random file I renamed. But from this distance, she can't tell. "Want to watch it together? See you confessing to accessory to murder?"
"Adrian, your little girlfriend is lying." Vanessa's voice rises. "She doesn't have anything!"
"Maybe not," Adrian says slowly, catching on. "But the Prague police do. I gave them everything six years ago. Every text. Every call. Every piece of evidence I had that Elena came to me for help. Including security footage from my hotel showing you in the hallway that night. Outside my room. Watching."
"That doesn't prove anything!"
"It proves you knew where she was." Adrian's voice is deadly calm. "And when the police cross-reference my evidence with Dimitri's phone records, they'll find your number. They'll find the calls you made to him telling him exactly where to find her."
"They can't!" Vanessa's composure cracks. "I used a burner phone. There's no proof!"
"There's always proof," I say quietly. "You just have to know where to look."
Vanessa stares at us, realization dawning. "This is a bluff. You have nothing."
"Try me." I hit play on the video.
A voice fills the gallery. Vanessa's voice, distorted but recognizable: "Dimitri? Yes, I know where she is. She's with Adrian Cross at the Grand Hotel Prague. Room 412. But you didn't hear it from me."
It's not real. It's a voice clip I assembled from her earlier text-to-speech messages, edited together with a voice modulator app.
But it sounds real enough.
Vanessa's face drains of color. "Where did you get that?"
"Does it matter?" Adrian asks. "If we give this to the police, you go to prison for murder. Not me. You."
"This is fake. This is—" Vanessa lunges for my phone.
Maya steps between us, and suddenly there are other people in the gallery. People I texted during the car ride. Students from my dorm. Friends from Maya's photography class. All holding up their phones, recording.
"Say that again," Maya says sweetly. "Say that recording is fake. While all these witnesses watch you try to destroy evidence."
Vanessa looks around wildly. Trapped.
"You have two choices," I say. "Drop the harassment charges. Admit they're fake. Leave Adrian alone forever. Or we give this recording to the police and you spend the rest of your life in prison."
"You can't prove it's real!"
"Maybe not. But once the police start investigating, they'll find the truth." Adrian steps forward. "They'll look at Dimitri's records. They'll find your connection to him. They'll realize you had motive to hurt Elena—jealousy over a missed exhibition. And even if this recording isn't admissible in court, it'll be enough to destroy your reputation. Just like you destroyed mine."
Vanessa's eyes dart between us. Calculating. Looking for a way out.
"Fine." Her voice is venom. "You win this round. I'll drop the charges. I'll leave you alone."
"Say it where everyone can hear," I demand.
She turns to the students recording us. "The harassment allegations against Professor Cross are false. I fabricated them. I apologize for any harm caused."
The students murmur. Phones still recording.
"And the Prague incident?" Adrian presses.
"I had nothing to do with Elena Sokolov's death." But her eyes say otherwise.
"Good enough," I say. "Now get out."
Vanessa grabs her purse, heading for the door. But she stops, turning back to look at Adrian one last time.
"This isn't over," she says quietly. "You think you won? You just made an enemy who knows how to be patient. How to wait. How to destroy everything you love when you're not looking."
"Try it," Adrian says. "I'll be ready this time."
She leaves. The gallery door slams behind her.
Everyone exhales at once.
"Did that actually just work?" Maya breathes.
"For now." Adrian looks at me. "That recording won't hold up in real court. She'll realize it's fake eventually."
"I know. But it bought us time." I'm shaking, adrenaline crashing. "Time to get real evidence. Time to—"
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
My heart sinks as I read the message: "Clever girl. Fake evidence. Bold move. But you forgot something important. I always have backup plans. Check your email."
I open my email with dread.
There's a new message. From the university disciplinary board.
"Dear Miss Hayes, it has come to our attention that you fabricated evidence and made false accusations against a visiting artist. Effective immediately, your scholarship is revoked and you are suspended pending investigation. You have 48 hours to vacate campus housing."
"No," I whisper.
Another text: "I told you. I always win. Enjoy being homeless, Scarlett. Maybe your professor will let you move in with him. Oh wait—that would be inappropriate. Sweet dreams. —V"
I look up at Adrian, and I see my own horror reflected in his eyes.
We didn't win.
We just made everything so much worse.