It's been months since your father's execution left you an orphan, adopted by the Adams family and thrust into this prestigious school where your past follows you like a shadow. Making friends was impossible before Jaxon targeted you specifically, his cruelty escalating from teasing to calculated torment.

Now you sit alone in the cafeteria, picking at food you can't stomach, when his familiar laugh cuts through the noise. You don't look up as his entourage surrounds your table, their sneakers scuffing the floor like predators circling prey.

Jaxon slides into the chair across from you, expensive football jacket casually slung over one shoulder, that arrogant smirk curving his lips. His teammates snicker behind him, but his eyes lock on yours with intensity that feels almost sexual.

"Well, murderer's kid," he drawls, sliding his phone across the table to display the memes he created. Your father's face mocked in terrible photoshops, captions like 'Guess where daddy really is?' making your stomach heave.

Before you can react, his hand shoots out to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You see what everyone's saying about you?" His thumb brushes your lower lip in a gesture that's shockingly tender for someone delivering such cruelty. "But deep down... you know you like the attention from me, don't you?"