7. Brooke

Iwas fucking furious.

I left my father's office seething, each step fueled by a raging cocktail of betrayal and disbelief. This whole day had spiraled into what could only be described as the worst in my existence, each moment more surreal than the last.

In a moment of sheer desperation, I found myself dialing Stephen's number. Why I did it, I couldn't say. We hadn't spoken since the lazy, sun-drenched days of summer had faded into memory. A part of me, perhaps the part still clinging to the idea of friendship and simpler times, missed him. Another, more fanciful part, wished he'd swoop in and rescue me from this nightmare. A laughable thought, really, given our complex history.

The phone rang, each tone echoing the rapid beat of my heart, until the inevitable voicemail greeting felt like a punch to the gut.

He didn't answer.

I was left with a swirling mix of relief and sharp disappointment.

Relief, because what would I even say? "Hey, Stephen, it's Brooke. Remember me? Well, I'm in a bit of a bind. See, I'm being traded off in some twisted deal to the one guy on earth who despises me as much as I despise him. How's Texas, by the way?"

And disappointment, because... well, a small, foolish part of me had hoped he might actually pick up.

I hung up without leaving a message, the silence of my unanswered call pressing down on me. Would he have even recognized my number? Our communication had dwindled to the occasional like on social media, like the noncommittal nods across a crowded room. The last sliver of hope that Stephen might be an ally in this chaos fizzled out with the call.

I was alone in this—truly alone.

Dragging myself back to the present, I realized that relying on someone else to save me was not only unrealistic; it was unlike me. I've faced down challenges before, stood my ground against academic rivals and even girls who tried to take Stephen away from me, and navigated the treacherous social labyrinth of Crestwood Academy. This situation, however daunting, was just another obstacle. It was time to remind myself of who I was, of the strength I possessed that had nothing to do with who stood by my side.

As I walked, the raw sting of betrayal from my father's compliance with Connor's demands burned anew. But it also kindled a fire of determination within me. I wouldn't let them break me. No matter what Connor thought he had won today, I would prove him wrong. This was not the end of my story; it was a bitter, twisted chapter I would somehow, someway, turn to my advantage.

I trudged back to my dorm, each step heavy with a mixture of fury and disbelief. The thought of packing up my life in a few boxes felt surreal, yet here I was, forced into a corner by circumstances I never could have imagined. The room that had been my sanctuary at Crestwood now felt like a cage, each belonging a reminder of a life that was being ripped away from me.

Halfway through packing, the enormity of what was happening hit me like a freight train. I slumped to the floor, surrounded by half-filled boxes and memories that seemed to mock me now. Tears welled up, and before I knew it, I was crying — no, sobbing — for everything that was lost, for the absurdity of the situation, and for the part of me that foolishly hoped for a knight in shining armor to save me from this mess. Stephen"s unanswered call lingered in my mind, a painful reminder of the help that wouldn"t come.

Wiping away my tears, I stood up, determined not to let despair consume me. How would I even begin to explain this to Minka? She had been more than a best friend; she was my confidant, my partner in crime, and now, I was being uprooted to the teacher housing district, worlds away from the comfort of having her right next door. The thought of leaving her, of not being there to share whispered secrets and impromptu midnight snacks, felt like another betrayal.

But I couldn"t afford to break down again, not when everything was at stake. I had to be strong. The tears had to stop. They were a luxury I couldn"t indulge in any longer.

There was a way out of this, there had to be. I just needed to find it. Standing up, I dried my eyes and set my jaw. This wasn"t the end. It was just another challenge, another game to win.

By the time I finished packing, the initial shock had given way to a simmering anger and a resolve as sharp as ice. I looked around the dorm room that had been my home, its walls now bare, the vibrancy and warmth it once held reduced to cold, lifeless spaces. As I dragged my suitcase out the door, I made a silent promise to myself. This wasn"t a defeat; it was a strategic retreat. Connor might think he"s won this round, but the game was far from over.

Just as I opened my door, the last thing I expected was to run right into Minka and Levi. Minka"s eyes quickly took in my tear-stained face, and without a word, she stepped closer, her concern palpable. Levi, on the other hand, clicked his tongue against his teeth, clearly annoyed. He muttered something under his breath about my timing, but I was too caught up in the whirlwind of my emotions to care.

Minka's focus was entirely on me. "Are you all right?"

I managed a nod, not trusting my voice.

"Well…did you find a solution to your problem?" she pressed further.

Another nod was my reply, even though inside, I was anything but all right.

"Why are you acting weird?" Minka narrowed her eyes, her instincts as my best friend kicking in. She knew me too well.

"I'm not," I lied, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. "Look, I had a long day and I still have some stuff to do."

But Minka wasn"t easily fooled. I knew she could sense there was something more, something I wasn"t saying.

"Do you want to come to dinner with us?" she offered, breaking the tension for a moment.

Levi remained quiet this time, his irritation replaced with curiosity as he observed our exchange.

I wanted to say yes, to escape into the normalcy of a meal with friends, but I knew I couldn"t. "I'm okay. I can't anyway. Maybe next time?"

My words felt hollow even to me.

Minka gave me a long look, her eyes softening. She knew I was withholding the truth, keeping something monumental from her.

"Okay," she murmured with a hint of sadness. "If you're sure."

And with that, she stepped back, leaving me to face the daunting task ahead alone. My heart ached as I realized the depth of the lie I was living, and how it was already affecting those I cared about most.

Watching Minka and Levi walk away, a surge of anger coursed through me, redirecting my focus from the immediate pain to the source of all my troubles: Connor.

My thoughts darkened with each step they took, my fury growing stronger. I hated him, not just for what he was doing to me, but for who he was, for everything he represented. I wanted him to suffer, to experience a fraction of the helplessness and despair he"d forced upon me. It was a consuming desire, one that blazed through my veins with a vengeance, overpowering the sorrow and replacing it with a seething, unbridled rage.

The intensity of my emotions surprised even me. I"d always prided myself on being rational, on keeping my cool under pressure, but Connor Bradley had a way of undermining all of that, of pushing me to my limits and beyond.

As I stood in the hallway, my resolve hardened. I wanted his life to be a living hell. It wasn"t just about escaping the situation anymore; it was about retribution, about making sure he regretted ever crossing paths with me. The thought of bringing him down, of wiping that smug look off his face, offered a cold comfort amidst the chaos of my feelings.

Yet, as I returned to my dorm to continue packing, a part of me recognized the futility in these thoughts. Wishing ill on Connor wouldn"t change my situation, but it was all I had in that moment. It was the fuel I needed to keep going, to keep fighting. I had to believe there was a way out of this, a way to turn the tables on Connor Bradley. And as I sealed the last box and looked around the now-empty room that had been my world, I promised myself I would find it. No matter what it took, I wouldn"t let Connor Bradley have the last laugh.

T–tr–i–ll!

My heart skipped a beat as Stephen"s name flashed across my phone screen. The sight of it stirred a tumult of emotions—surprise, anticipation, and a hefty dose of anxiety.

Why now, of all times?

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the answer button, trapped in indecision. Part of me yearned to hear his voice, to cling to the familiarity and comfort it promised.

But then what? My life was unraveling and explaining it to Stephen felt like trying to hold water in my hands—futile and messy.

Before I could make up my mind, the phone quieted, only to buzz again with a text message. I let Stephen"s call go to voicemail, as I redirected my attention to the message from an unknown number.

Movers will be there in five. Let them in or you won't like the consequences.

A scowl etched itself onto my face, even though the sender, undoubtedly Connor, couldn"t see it. His ability to invade even the smallest sense of peace I clung to was infuriating.

Another message popped up, this time from the front desk.

Did you request movers, Miss Westwood? They're downstairs.

Send them up

Each word felt like a chain, binding me further into Connor"s control, yet I had to play along—for now.

The room quickly filled with the sound of shuffling feet and the soft murmur of voices as the movers arrived, methodically clearing out my space. Each box they carried away was a piece of my life here, memories packed away as efficiently as the contents within. Watching them work, I felt a numbness spread through me. This room, once a haven filled with laughter, late-night conversations, and moments of quiet reflection, was now just a hollow shell. The physical emptiness of the space mirrored the hollow feeling inside me, but I was determined not to let it show.

As the last of my belongings disappeared through the doorway, a stark silence enveloped the room. The bare walls and empty spaces seemed to amplify the sense of isolation, a visual representation of the void Connor"s machinations had carved within my life. I stood in the center of the emptiness, the reality of my situation settling heavily around me. Despite that, a stubborn spark of defiance flickered to life. Connor had taken my room, but he wouldn't take my spirit.

I took one last look around the dorm that had been my home. The emptiness was palpable, a physical ache, but it also signified a beginning—the start of a battle for my freedom and identity. Connor may have orchestrated this moment, thinking he"d won, but I wasn"t ready to concede.

This empty room wasn"t the end of my story; it was a call to arms, a silent vow that I would reclaim what was mine, no matter what it took.