By Monday morning, the entire campus had seen the video.
It was everywhere — whispered about in the library, replayed in the cafeteria, and dissected in every group chat. The clip showed Elena at the Monarchs' party, standing frozen under the lights while laughter echoed in the background. The camera panned to Sierra smirking behind her drink, and then cut off right before Adrian stepped in.
The caption read, Crestwood's charity case crashes the Monarchs' soirée.
Elena's stomach twisted every time she caught someone staring at her phone screen and then glancing her way. She wanted to disappear.
Maya sat beside her in the dining hall, fury written all over her face. "They're sick. Every last one of them."
Elena forced a calm she didn't feel. "It'll die down soon."
"No, it won't. Not when it's them."
At that moment, laughter rose from across the hall. Sierra sat at her usual table, surrounded by her friends, tossing her hair back as she whispered something to Blake. The group burst into amusement.
Maya started to stand, but Elena caught her wrist. "Don't. That's what they want."
Maya sank back down, fuming. "You shouldn't have to take this."
Elena didn't reply. She couldn't. Her throat ached with the effort of keeping her composure.
She left the cafeteria alone, walking fast, ignoring the whispers that followed. The hallways felt narrower than usual, the air thicker. She was halfway down the main corridor when a voice called her name.
"Elena."
She turned. Adrian stood by the lockers, hands in his pockets, watching her.
She froze, unsure whether to walk away or confront him. "Here to tell me I should've stayed home again?"
He shook his head slowly. "Here to tell you you're trending."
"Thanks. I hadn't noticed."
There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. "You shouldn't let them see you react. They'll get bored faster."
"You think this is funny?" she snapped. "You could have stopped it before it happened."
"I did stop it."
"After they recorded it."
He sighed softly, leaning against the locker. "You're angry. Good. Stay that way. It's better than being scared."
She took a step closer, her voice sharp. "You think this is some game, don't you? You step in, play the hero for five seconds, and then walk away like none of it matters."
He met her eyes, calm and steady. "It matters more than you think."
Something in his tone made her falter. For the first time, there was no arrogance, no teasing. Just a quiet certainty that unsettled her.
"Why do you care?" she whispered.
He hesitated. "Because Sierra doesn't know when to stop. And you're not like the others. You still think people can be kind."
"That's not weakness."
"I didn't say it was."
They stood there for a moment, the silence heavy between them. Then Adrian straightened, his expression shifting back into control.
"I'll handle it."
"Handle what?"
"The video. The whispers. You'll see."
Before she could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away.
That afternoon, things began to change.
By evening, every copy of the video online had been mysteriously deleted. The gossip posts vanished, and the anonymous Crestwood forum went offline for "maintenance." The timing wasn't coincidence.
Maya noticed first. "How did that even happen?"
Elena stared at her phone screen, the now-empty thread where hundreds of cruel comments had been hours ago. "I don't know."
But she did know. Deep down.
The next morning, Sierra stormed into the campus courtyard, her phone pressed to her ear, voice sharp and panicked. Adrian stood a few feet away, hands still in his pockets, expression unreadable.
When their eyes met, Elena understood. He'd done it. He'd destroyed the evidence with the same quiet power he'd used to silence the party.
Later that day, she found a note in her locker.
You don't owe me anything. Just stop underestimating what I can do.
It wasn't signed, but she didn't need a name.
She read it twice, folded it carefully, and tucked it into her notebook.
That night, as she lay in bed, she replayed every word he'd said, every glance, every strange flicker of protectiveness he'd shown her.
She told herself it didn't mean anything. That Adrian Cole was dangerous, that nothing good could come from his kind of attention.
But as sleep pulled her under, she realized something that scared her more than all the gossip, all the whispers, all the cruelty.
Part of her didn't want him to stop