Chapter 2

I grabbed my leather jacket and left the dorm. By 7:00 PM, I was marching up the stone steps of the Alpha Sigma house. The heavy bass from their living room speakers vibrated through the soles of my boots. I needed concrete evidence, and the best place to extract it was right in the center of the snake pit.

The dining room smelled of stale beer, overpriced cologne, and unfiltered arrogance. Noah sat at the head of the long oak table, holding court with his fraternity brothers. I grabbed a plastic red cup, filled it with tap water, and leaned against the shadows of the hallway doorframe. I watched them. I listened.

"Look, the alumni are coming on the 16th," a guy named Brad slurred, aggressively stabbing a piece of steak. "If the campus cops bust us with the stash, we're expelled. My Wall Street offer vanishes."

Noah leaned back, swirling his drink. "Relax. We distribute the risk. The girlfriends have stellar academic records. They hold the bags for the night. Campus security won't search the honors students."

My blood ran hot. A visceral, stinging heat flared in my chest. Exactly the same wording as last life. He was selling me out over a casual steak dinner. I pulled my iPhone from my pocket, opened the Voice Memos app, and hit the red circle. The timer started ticking. I recorded every single word.

Five minutes later, Noah spotted me in the hallway. He excused himself and trotted over, slipping his arm around my waist to pull me into the empty kitchen. He smelled of mint and deceit.

"There you are." He flashed that perfectly calibrated, boyish smile. "Sorry about my temper this morning. Finals stress."

"Sure," I said flatly.

He moved closer, lowering his voice into his signature gentle register. "We’re a team, Ivy. My future is your future. The graduation party on the 16th... there might be some logistical hiccups. I need you to support me. Like always."

I tilted my head. I stood my ground and stared straight into his pale blue eyes. "Logistical hiccups? What does that mean, Noah? Drugs?"

He flinched. The smile vanished. He shot a panicked glance toward the kitchen door. "Keep your voice down," he hissed. "No. Jesus, Ivy. Just... some alcohol licensing issues. We have underage guys."

"Really?" I took a sharp step forward, backing him against the marble island. "Because alcohol licensing doesn't ruin your shiny future. Why do you need me to hold anything? Are you lying to me?" I pitched my voice up, deliberately playing the hysterical, concerned fiancée. I let the anger bleed into my tone, making it sharp and erratic.

Noah swallowed hard. He despised messy emotions. He operated entirely on control. "Baby, calm down. You're overreacting. I just need you to trust me."

"I want to see the fraternity group chat," I demanded, holding my palm out.

"What? Absolutely not. It's private."

"If we are a team, show me. Prove it's just alcohol." I took a step back, my voice turning icy. "Or I walk out that door right now, and the engagement is over."

Panic flared in his eyes. He needed his safe, reliable shield. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. The ultimate act of 'transparency' from a cornered narcissist. "Look. See for yourself. You're being crazy."

He expected me to glance at the most recent messages and hand it back. He relied heavily on my past politeness.

Instead, I gripped the phone and scrolled up. Fast. Yesterday. Tuesday.

Brad: Who's holding the molly for the 16th?

Noah: Distribute it. My trunk is the backup stash. Ivy will take the fall if campus PD checks. Her record is spotless.

Brad: She cool with that?

Noah: Ivy’s fine. She does whatever I say. She thinks we’re soulmates.

My teeth ground together. The sheer audacity burned my throat. I kept my grip on the device and rapidly hit the side buttons. Snap. Snap. Snap. I screen-recorded the entire thread, selected the files, and AirDropped them straight to my own phone.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Noah lunged forward, snatching the phone back.

"Just reading." I flashed him a razor-thin, venomous smile. "I'll see you at the party, Noah."

I pivoted on my heel and marched out of the kitchen. I pushed through the heavy front doors of the frat house and stepped out into the biting New York air. My pocket buzzed. The file transfer was complete.

I stopped under a streetlamp. I opened my email app and typed in the address for a ruthless contract lawyer I had bookmarked earlier that afternoon.

Subject: Immediate revocation of prenuptial agreement and severing of joint financial accounts.

Attachment: 3 files.

I hit send. I pocketed the phone and walked away, leaving the heavy bass of the Alpha Sigma house behind me. The countdown was officially on.