POV Ajax
The message from my father about Friday dinner plans should make me nervous, but instead I'm lost in fantasies of Bella charming my family, finally giving me something they can approve of.
For once in my life, I might actually make Vincent Spencer proud. The thought carries me across campus with unusual lightness, my phone buzzing with confirmations about the evening's logistics.
I'm so caught up in imagining Bella at our dining table—her grace cutting through my family's pretension, her wit matching my father's sharp intellect—that I don't notice the unusual tension crackling through the cafeteria until I'm halfway to her usual spot by the windows.
Zane's fist comes out of nowhere.
Pure rage fuels the swing, his knuckles aimed directly at my jaw with deadly precision.
My reflexes, honed from years of underground fights and split-second racing decisions, kick in automatically. I dodge left, block with my forearm, manage to grab both his wrists before he can land a second hit.
Students around us scramble backward, chairs scraping against tile, trays clattering to the floor. Phones rise like weapons, already filming what promises to be the campus scandal of the week.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I keep my voice low as I pin the younger man's arms, though his fury makes him surprisingly strong.
"You can shove your bet up your ass!" Zane snarls, loud enough for nearby students to hear every syllable. "Come near my sister again and I will need my trust fund—I'll hire someone to end you."
The words hit harder than any punch could. Bet. The word ricochets through my skull like a bullet, destroying everything in its path. My gaze flies across the cafeteria, finding Bella instantly even through the crowd of gawking students.
She’s pale as death, trembling while Camila wraps protective arms around her shoulders and steers her toward the doors, guiding her out of the cafeteria. Even from this distance, I can see the devastation written across her face—the way her perfect composure has cracked completely, revealing raw pain underneath.
The pieces click together with sickening clarity. Someone told her about the bet. Someone showed her evidence of my original plan, my cruel intentions, the words I'd spoken months ago when everything between us was different.
I release Zane so abruptly he stumbles backward, his balance thrown off by the sudden freedom. The crowd parts as I storm through the cafeteria, ignoring the camera phones and whispered speculation following my wake.
The spring air hits my face as I burst through the doors, scanning the campus grounds with predatory focus. It doesn't take long to find my target.
Laila lies on a designer blanket near the fountain, surrounded by her usual circle of sycophantic followers, her spray-tanned body gleaming under the afternoon sun like a warning.
I don't care about their shocked gasps as I physically drag her away from the group, my grip on her arm probably leaving bruises on her fake-bronzed skin.
Her followers scatter like startled birds, too intimidated to interfere with a Spencer family heir in full fury.
"Ajax, what are you—"
"Why?" The word comes out deadly quiet once we're alone behind the science building. "Who else was involved?"
Laila's triumphant smile makes me want to break something. Her lips curve with malicious satisfaction, like she's been waiting months for this exact moment.
"Just me," she purrs, adjusting her bikini top with deliberate provocation. "I warned you to end it, Ajax. You're spending all your time with that bitch instead of us. Your real friends miss you."
The urge to hit her overwhelms every rational thought. My hands clench into fists, violence singing through my veins like gasoline waiting for a match. But I force my arms to stay at my sides, channeling the rage into something more destructive than physical force.
Instead, I lean close enough that she steps back in genuine fear, her confident mask slipping for the first time.
"Listen very carefully," I say, my voice carrying the kind of cold menace that runs in Spencer blood. "If you ever approach Bella again—if you speak to her, text her, even look at her—I will destroy you completely."
"You can't threaten me—"
"I'll find every dirty secret you've tried to hide," I continue, cutting through her protests like they're nothing. "Every shameful thing you've done, every lie you've told, every person you've screwed over to get where you are. I'll make sure everyone knows exactly who Laila Whitmore really is."
The color drains from her face beneath the layers of makeup and artificial tan.
"Your father will disown you when he learns about your cocaine habit, your gambling debts, the way you've been embezzling from your trust fund to pay for your lifestyle. Your precious social circle will abandon you the moment your money disappears."
Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly, like a fish pulled from water.
"The Spencer name carries enough weight to follow through on every word," I add, stepping back to let the full threat sink in. "Test me if you think I'm bluffing."
Laila's hands shake as she wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller and more vulnerable than I've ever seen her. The triumphant smile has vanished completely, replaced by genuine terror.
"I didn't think—"
"No, you didn't think. You never do." I turn away from her, already done with this conversation. "Stay away from her, Laila. This is your only warning."
As I walk away, leaving her shaking behind the building, the bitter irony crashes over me like a wave.
I've lost the only person who ever made me want to be better, all because of a stupid bet. The same bet that started as revenge but became meaningless the moment Bella smiled at me—really smiled, not the polite social expression she wore for everyone else.
The worst part is knowing I deserve every bit of her hatred, even as losing her feels like ripping my own heart out with bare hands.
Friday dinner with my parents suddenly seems like a cruel joke. What's the point of their approval when the person I wanted to impress will never speak to me again?
The campus buzzes around me—students heading to classes, couples holding hands, the normal rhythm of life continuing as if my world hasn't just imploded.
But all I can see is Bella's devastated face, the way she trembled when the truth hit her, how quickly Camila had to spirit her away from the wreckage of my lies.
I built something real with her, something that mattered more than family approval or social status or any of the shallow victories I'd chased before. And I destroyed it all with words spoken in anger weeks ago, when I was still pretending to hate the girl I'd never stopped loving.