Chapter 3

June 16th. 10:15 PM.

The bass from the Alpha Sigma living room rattled my ribs. Red Solo cups littered the lawn. Frat brothers shouted over a deafening hip-hop track. I stood near the keg, checking the time on my Apple Watch. The countdown burned in my chest, hot and sharp.

Noah pushed through the sweaty crowd. He wore a crisp white linen shirt, looking exactly like the cover of a Princeton admissions brochure. He carried a heavy, black canvas backpack. He slid his free arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him.

"Hey, beautiful," he shouted over the music, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Do me a massive favor. Run this out to your trunk and lock it. Someone’s picking it up later."

I took the canvas straps. The bag weighed at least ten pounds.

I tilted my head and flashed him a bright, blinding smile. "Of course, honey."

"You're the best." He winked and vanished back into the dark, pulsing house.

I gripped the canvas tight. A feral, electric thrill shot down my spine. He actually thinks I’m still his perfect little idiot.

I marched straight out the front door and down the driveway. I bypassed my sedan entirely. I dropped the black backpack right onto the hood of Noah’s pristine Range Rover.

10:24 PM.

A group of freshmen vaped near the hedges. Brad and two other brothers smoked cigars on the porch steps. Perfect audience.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the campus police emergency line. I hit the speaker button. The dispatcher answered on the first ring.

"Campus Police."

I pitched my voice loud. I wanted the sound to carry over the bass. "Yes, I need officers at the Alpha Sigma house immediately. I just saw someone stashing a massive amount of illegal contraband in the parking lot. I feel incredibly unsafe."

Brad dropped his cigar.

Noah burst through the front double doors. He froze on the top step. His eyes locked onto me, then darted to the backpack sitting on his hood. The blood drained from his face, leaving him ash-white.

He sprinted down the steps, his loafers skidding on the gravel. "Ivy! What the fuck are you doing?"

He lunged for my phone. I sidestepped, slamming my shoulder hard into his chest to knock him off balance.

"Reporting a crime, Noah," I said, my voice ringing out sharp and clear. "Like a good citizen."

"Hang up the phone!" He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging viciously into my skin. The gentle golden boy vanished. Pure, animal panic warped his features.

10:30 PM.

Sirens wailed down the avenue. Red and blue lights violently strobed across the frat house lawn. Three cruisers jumped the curb and blocked the driveway. Cops swarmed out, hands resting on their holsters, flashlights cutting through the dark.

The music died. The crowd paralyzed.

"Who called it in?" a burly sergeant barked, sweeping his heavy flashlight over the students.

I ripped my arm out of Noah’s grip and raised my hand. "I did."

I pointed directly at the backpack on the Range Rover. "Right there."

Two officers flanked the car. One unzipped the bag. He pulled out a brick wrapped in duct tape, then a dozen plastic bags filled with white powder and pills.

"Whose bag is this?" the sergeant demanded, glaring at the crowd.

Noah's breathing turned horribly ragged. He stared at me. His pale blue eyes screamed at me to follow the script. Do it, Ivy. Take the fall. Save me.

I stared right back. I felt completely, dangerously alive.

"It belongs to my fiancé, Noah Sterling," I said loudly. "He just handed it to me and asked me to hide it for his fraternity."

Noah choked. "She's lying! Officer, she's hysterical. She brought that here—"

"Actually, I have the receipts." I unlocked my phone. I pulled up the voice recording from Tuesday’s dinner. I cranked the volume to maximum and hit play.

Noah’s own voice echoed across the dead-silent driveway.

'Ivy will take the fall if campus PD checks. Her record is spotless.'

I swiped the screen, opening the photo gallery. I shoved the glowing phone into the sergeant’s hands. "Here are the group chat screenshots. Time-stamped. They planned this three days ago. There’s the distribution list."

The sergeant read the screen. He looked up, his jaw set in a hard line. "Noah Sterling?"

Noah backed away, his hands raised, shaking violently. "No, wait, my dad is a lawyer, you can't—"

"Turn around. Hands behind your back."

The officer slammed Noah against the side of his own Range Rover. The heavy metallic click of handcuffs snapping shut echoed in the cold air. It was the absolute best sound I had ever heard.

Noah thrashed against the metal. He twisted his neck to look at me, his face contorted in pure rage. "Ivy! You crazy bitch! You're dead! My father will destroy you!"

I walked right up to him. I looked down at his pathetic, pinned frame.

"Tell your dad to check his email," I said, my tone ice-cold. "He's going to need a good defense attorney."

The officers dragged him backward and shoved him into the back of the cruiser. I watched his face press against the reinforced glass. He looked exactly how I felt in my last life. Terrified. Trapped. Destroyed.

I stepped back onto the sidewalk. The squad car tore out of the driveway, sirens blaring, taking his pristine future with it.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I opened my contacts and hit dial on the contract lawyer’s number.

"It's Ivy," I said the second he answered. "Execute the annulment of the prenup. Drain my half of the joint accounts immediately. Send him the termination paperwork in holding. We are completely done."

I hung up, turned my back on the Alpha Sigma house, and walked away into the dark.