Chapter 2 002

Elara's POV

The internet didn't just chew me up-it swallowed me whole.

By the time I reached campus, my face was everywhere. Plastered across phones, whispered about in every corner, dissected like some scandalous exhibit.

Elara Crowley, mystery girl beside hockey's golden boy.

I yanked my cap lower over my face, heart hammering in my chest. It didn't matter. Eyes followed me anyway. Murmurs buzzed down the hall like a swarm of bees.

"Is that her?"

"No way-why would Harlow even look at her?"

"She probably begged for it. Pathetic."

My stomach twisted. Each word was a stone thrown my way, bruising what little dignity I had left.

And then, of course, Lyra.

She was waiting in my classroom like a queen on her throne, one heel hooked on the edge of my desk. A carton of eggs sat open beside her. My chair? Already dripping with yolk.

"Well, well, well." Her smile stretched wide, venomous. "If it isn't our little celebrity."

Her friends cackled as I froze in the doorway.

"Shouldn't you be at some mansion right now?" Lyra cooed. "Or did Alric finally realize you're trash?"

Laughter cut sharp through me. My fists clenched, but I said nothing. That was the game. Don't fight back, don't make it worse.

I bowed slightly, murmured a faint good morning. But before I could rise fully, the stench of raw egg hit my nose. Cold slime dripped down my jacket, sticking to my skin.

A sharp kick struck the back of my knees. I collapsed onto my butt, pain shooting up my legs. Tears stung, but I swallowed them down.

Lyra crouched, yanking my chin up. "Look at you. Cheap. Ugly. A little nerd nobody. Pathetic." Her words snapped into my face, punctuated by a hard slap that smeared egg yolk across my cheek.

The classroom roared with laughter.

"What's going on here?" my English teacher finally barked from the doorway. He glanced at the mess, sighed. "Enough. Sit down, Lyra. Elara-clean yourself up. Class is starting."

And that was it. No justice. No protection. Just another day of being invisible.

By evening, the whispers followed me to work.

The manager hauled me into his office, arms crossed, face thunderous.

"Elara, I don't know what the hell you've gotten yourself into, but this-" He shoved his phone at me, headlines screaming about Alric Harlow's mystery girl. "-is bad for business. Customers are asking questions. If this keeps up, you're done here."

My throat closed. My job. My rent. My last shred of security-hanging by a thread.

I stumbled out into the alley behind the club, fighting tears.

And that's when I saw him.

Alric Harlow.

Leaning against the brick wall, cigarette glowing between his fingers, leather jacket zipped, cap pulled low-but still unmistakable.

Every nerve in my body froze. I turned to leave, but his hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Disgusting chipmunk," he muttered, low but sharp enough to cut.

My chest tightened. "W-what... what do you want?" I whispered.

"Be my girlfriend," he spat. It wasn't a request.

I blinked, stunned, until his grip shoved me back against the wall. Pain jolted down my spine.

"You're going to pretend to be my girlfriend for as long as I say." His jaw flexed, rage rolling off him.

"Stop whining. Fuck!" His fist slammed into the wall beside my head. Brick cracked.

My body shook. His eyes-God, his eyes-weren't normal. For one flicker, they burned red. Wild. Feral.

Before I could move, he shoved me down. My palms scraped the ground as I gasped. He took a step forward like he'd crush me-then kicked a metal bucket instead, the crash splitting the alley.

His phone rang. He ripped it out, barked into it, then cursed and hung up so violently the screen shattered.

His gaze snapped back to me, hard as steel.

"Your job now," he said, voice deadly, "is to pretend to be my girlfriend. You breathe a word, and I'll dig into your skin and rip out your lungs. Do you understand?"

"I... I don't-"

"Does it look like I'm asking?" His palm slammed the wall near my head, the sound exploding in my ears. "You don't have a choice."

He jammed his phone close, playing a voice note:

"Alric, you better fix this shit. Your contract, your sponsorship deals, even the championship slot-it's all hanging by a thread. You already have a bad reputation, but this? This is everywhere. It's on the news, spreading like wildfire. Clean it up fast, or everything you've built is gone."

The voice cut off as Alric hurled the phone against the wall. Shards skittered across the alley.

"But... but Lyra likes y-" I stammered.

"Who said I'm not aware?" His eyes narrowed. He gripped my chin roughly, forcing me to meet his glare. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not special. You're a pawn. And I'll use your ugly face if I want to."

The words burned worse than Lyra's slap. Tears slid down, hot and humiliating.

He yanked me upright, dragging me forward.

"W-where are we going?"

"To clean you up," he said coldly. His grip only tightened. "And don't make me repeat myself."

Minutes later, we burst into a glittering mall. Everyone's gaze was suddenly turned at me instantly-some sneering at me, others starry-eyed at him, glittery.

Alric didn't glance at anyone. His jaw was stone as he dragged me into the designer section.

He stopped, gaze sweeping me like filth.

"Do you have a shower?"

The attendant wrinkled her nose as I slipped into the mall bathroom.

"Ugh, why do you smell like cat food?" she muttered, throwing a white towel at me before leaving.

I faced the mirror. Just minutes ago, I'd been in my work uniform; now lashes, makeup, and a whole new face stared back. I couldn't help but giggle at my transformation- not until Alric reflection appeared.

"Even after a makeover, you still look like tuna fish."