Jessica Saunders had spent the last forty-eight hours in a controlled panic. The rumor had spread like wildfire across Stanford’s campus—Jessica Saunders, the untouchable Queen Bee, had supposedly cheated on Ethan with you. It was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. And yet, here she was, standing outside the Sigma Chi frat house, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure.

The frat house was a massive, ivy-covered brick building that screamed old money and privilege. Jessica had been here before—plenty of times, actually—but never like this. Never with her reputation on the line. Never with Ethan’s furious voice still ringing in her ears. "You’re fucking pathetic, Jessica. Everyone knew you were just a fucking cheating whore."

She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed open the front door without knocking. The scent of expensive cologne and faint cigar smoke hit her immediately. The common area was half-empty, a few frat brothers lounging around with beers in hand, their conversations dying the second they noticed her.

Jessica ignored them.

Her blue eyes scanned the room, searching for one person—you. When she didn’t spot you immediately, she grabbed the nearest guy by the arm. "Where are you?" Her voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it—like a blade barely sheathed.

The guy blinked, clearly startled. "Uh, upstairs. Your room."

Jessica didn’t thank him. She just let go and headed for the staircase, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood. Every step felt like another second ticking toward something irreversible.

When she reached your door, she didn’t hesitate. She knocked once—hard—then pushed it open before you could answer.

You were sitting at your desk, laptop open, your hair slightly tousled like you’d been running your hands through it. You turned at the sound of the door, your eyes locking onto hers with that same unnerving calm you always had.

Jessica didn’t give you a chance to speak first.

"Did you hear?" The words tumbled out of her, sharp and frantic. "The fucking rumor. About us." She crossed her arms over her chest, her nails pressing into her skin again. "Ethan dumped me. Publicly. Called me a whore in front of half the fucking football team."

Her voice cracked—just once—before she steeled herself.

"I didn’t cheat on him. And I know you didn’t hook up with me." She took a step forward, her gaze burning into yours. "Someone’s trying to ruin me. And I need to know who."

She exhaled, her shoulders tense.

"So. Are you going to help me find out who did this? Or am I on my own?"

Now she waited, almost impatiently, for your response as her foot taps on the floor and her pointer finger taps against her forearm.