Chapter 3

The autumn sun cut through the red and gold maple leaves.

Jocelyn walked down the cobblestone path of the Ivy League campus. She gripped the straps of her canvas tote bag. The tight knot in her stomach finally began to loosen.

A hand slapped her shoulder.

"Hey!" Brodie Moon shouted. She shoved a warm bagel wrapped in paper into Jocelyn's hands. "Morning lectures are a crime against humanity."

Jocelyn took the bagel. She forced a weak smile onto her pale face.

Before she could reply, a warm, male voice interrupted them.

"Morning, Jocelyn."

Karson Cordova walked up to them. He wore a beige trench coat. He held a hot latte in one hand and a stack of printed notes in the other. His eyes were soft as they landed on Jocelyn.

He pressed the coffee, the notes, and a small, expensive box of French stomach medicine into her hands.

"You look freezing, and you mentioned your stomach was acting up. This might help," Karson said. He stepped sideways, physically blocking the cold wind coming off the quad. "Drink this."

"Thank you, Karson," Jocelyn said. A faint, embarrassed flush crept up her neck.

Brodie wiggled her eyebrows and let out a loud, exaggerated cough.

Across the street, a black SUV sat parked against the curb. The windows were tinted pitch black.

Inside the cabin, the air pressure dropped to freezing.

Elam Turner sat in the backseat. His eyes were locked on the three students. When Karson stepped in front of Jocelyn to block the wind, a lethal, murderous rage ignited in Elam's chest.

"Rocco," Elam said. His voice was a blade.

The bodyguard in the passenger seat turned around. "Sir?"

"Who is the boy?" Elam demanded.

Rocco tapped his tablet. "Karson Cordova. Youngest son of the Cordova family. He has been pursuing Miss Yang."

Elam let out a cold, hollow laugh. He pulled his phone from his suit pocket and dialed a private number.

The patriarch of the Cordova family answered on the second ring.

"Mr. Cordova," Elam said, his tone dripping with absolute authority. "I have a business proposition regarding your European division. It requires your son's immediate attention. Today."

On the campus path, Karson opened his mouth to ask Jocelyn to an art gallery.

His phone vibrated violently in his pocket.

Karson pulled it out. He answered it. The color drained from his face.

"Dad, what? No, I have midterms-" Karson argued.

Jocelyn could hear the faint, furious yelling through the receiver.

"Freeze my trust fund?" Karson gasped. "Dad, wait!"

The line went dead. Karson stared at his phone in horror. He looked up at Jocelyn, panic in his eyes.

"Jocelyn, I'm so sorry. A family emergency. My dad is forcing me on a flight to London right now. I have to go."

He didn't wait for her to respond. He turned and sprinted toward the parking lot.

Jocelyn watched him run. A heavy, sinking feeling settled in her gut. It happened too fast.

"Well, that was weird," Brodie said, patting Jocelyn's arm. "Don't forget, you need to hit the Financial Aid Office before your next class."

Jocelyn nodded. She waved goodbye to Brodie and walked alone toward the administration building. The anxiety of her unpaid tuition gnawed at her stomach.

She pushed open the glass doors and walked up to the counter.

"Hi, I'm here to check on my balance. Jocelyn Yang," she said.

The clerk typed on her keyboard. She looked up with a bright, professional smile. "You're all set, Miss Yang. Your balance is zero."

Jocelyn's eyes widened. "What? Who paid it?"

"It was wired this morning by a private blind trust," the clerk said. "The donor is anonymous."

Jocelyn walked out of the office clutching the printed receipt. Her mind raced. A blind trust. Anonymous.

Karson.

He was from a wealthy family. He had just rushed off to Europe. It had to be him.

She pulled out her phone and typed a quick text. Thank you for everything, Karson. Have a safe flight. She hit send.

She pushed open the heavy doors of the administration building and stepped out into the cold air.

She looked up. The blood vanished from her face.

The black SUV was parked directly at the bottom of the steps. It sat there like a waiting beast.

Leland Vance stepped out of the driver's seat. He opened the rear door and stood back, gesturing for her to enter.

In the dark cavern of the backseat, Elam sat perfectly still. He was flipping a custom silver lighter open and shut.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The metallic sound hit Jocelyn's eardrums like a hammer.

Her legs turned to lead. Students walked past, staring at the luxury vehicle. The humiliation burned her cheeks.

Elam stopped flipping the lighter. He stared at her through the open door.

"Get in," he ordered.

Jocelyn squeezed her eyes shut. She gripped her canvas bag and walked down the steps. She climbed into the back of the SUV like a prisoner stepping into a cell.

The heavy door slammed shut behind her, cutting off the sunlight. The SUV pulled away from the curb, dragging her back into the abyss.