I blinked, the sterile lights of the campus café snapping me back to reality. Dominic was staring at me, his "Golden Boy" smile not quite reaching his eyes. He looked perfect-pressed khakis, a cashmere sweater, and hair that cost more to maintain than my monthly grocery bill.
"Sorry," I muttered, stirring my black coffee. "Just stressed about the thesis."
"You worry too much," Dominic said, reaching across the table to pat my hand. His touch felt cold compared to the memory of the stranger. "You're a St. Claire. Even a fallen one has standards to uphold. My father is expecting you at the gala next month as my plus-one. Don't let the workload make you look haggard."
Haggard. Not 'I hope you're okay.' Just 'don't embarrass me.'
"I'll be there, Dom."
I waited until he left for his "lacrosse practice" before heading to the library archives. It was 11:00 PM. The archives were tucked in the basement of the North Wing, a labyrinth of dust and silence where the university kept the rare architectural blueprints. I had the keys because of my scholarship. I needed to upload the final 3D renders of my thesis to the main server. It was my ticket out of this gilded cage.
The air in the basement was damp and smelled of old paper. As I reached the heavy oak doors of the restricted stacks, I heard it.
A wet, rhythmic sound. A gasp.
I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed the door open just a crack.
The light was dim, flickering from a single desk lamp. I expected to see a couple of freshmen fumbling in the dark. I didn't expect to see Dominic.
He wasn't at lacrosse. He was bent over a mahogany table, his pants around his ankles. And he wasn't alone. Isolde, his sister, was draped across the table, her blonde hair spilling over the blueprints of the campus chapel. Her skirt was pushed up to her waist, and her eyes were rolled back as Dominic hammered into her from behind.
"Harder, Dom," she hissed, her fingers clawing at the wood. "Show me how much you hate her."
"I don't hate her," Dominic grunted, his face contorted with a cruel sort of pleasure as he buried his cock inside her with a wet slap. "She's just a placeholder. A charity case to keep the Board happy. You're the only one who matters. The only one with the right blood."
I felt the bile rise in my throat. It wasn't just the cheating-it was the sickening, incestuous intimacy of it. They weren't just banging; they were sharing a secret that made my stomach turn.
I should have walked away. I should have run. But my hand slipped, and the heavy door creaked wide open.
Dominic froze. He didn't pull out. He just turned his head, looking at me with a cold, mocking expression as he stayed buried deep inside his sister. Isolde smirked, adjusted her position, and didn't even bother to cover herself.
"Sera," Dominic said, his voice devoid of any guilt. "You're early."
"You... you're disgusting," I choked out, my voice trembling. "I'm going to the Dean. I'm going to tell everyone what you are."
Dominic let out a short, bark-like laugh. He slowly pulled out of Isolde-the sound of his cock sliding out of her pussy making me want to vomit-and reached for his laptop on the desk next to them.
"You aren't going to do shit," he said calmly.
He tapped a few keys. I saw the Aethelgard internal server logo on the screen.
"You know, Sera, being a legacy student has its perks. Like administrative access to the architecture department's cloud."
My blood ran cold. "What are you doing?"
"Deleting a virus," he said, his finger hovering over the 'Enter' key. "Your senior thesis, Sera. The one you've spent three years building? It's gone. All the backups. All the renders. I just wiped the drive."
He pressed the key.
"No!" I lunged for the laptop, but he shoved me back. I hit the floor hard, the air leaving my lungs in a painful rush.
"Now," Dominic said, zipping his fly as he looked down at me like I was a bug he'd just stepped on. "Go ahead. Tell the Dean about me and Isolde. But remember: you have no thesis, no scholarship, and no future. And my father owns the Board. Who do you think they'll believe? A Calloway, or a girl whose father is a convicted fraud?"
Isolde stood up, smoothing her skirt. She walked over and looked down at me, her eyes dancing with malice. "You were always too cheap for him, Sera. Go find a gutter to crawl into."
They walked out, leaving me alone in the dark, surrounded by the smell of their sex and the digital graveyard of my future. I sat on the cold floor, my hands shaking so hard I couldn't even wipe the tears away.
I was ruined. I had nothing left to lose.
I didn't know that from the shadows of the mezzanine above, a pair of arctic-blue eyes had watched the entire thing.