The morning after the Spring Gala felt surreal.
Ella woke up with sunlight pouring through her dorm window, the warmth on her skin almost mocking the cold storm still twisting inside her. Her heart beat differently now—not just from the kiss with Ryan, but from everything that had unraveled the night before.
Her mother was back.
Clarissa had been escorted out of the Gala.
And Ryan... Ryan had kissed her like she was the only girl in the world.
She smiled for a moment, until a knock rattled her door.
She pulled a hoodie over her lace camisole and opened it.
Lexi stood there, holding a sleek envelope, face pale. "This was slipped under your door early this morning."
Ella took it slowly, frowning. "Who left it?"
"No idea. There was no one in the hallway when I came out. But... it felt off."
Ella opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a photo—grainy, black and white.
Her.
Ryan.
Kissing.
Last night.
"What the—?" Her fingers trembled. She flipped the photo. On the back, written in red ink:
"You should've stayed an enemy."
Lexi gasped. "Who sent this? It's like they're watching you."
Ella's chest tightened. "No....it's worse. They are."
****
Meanwhile, on the boys' floor, Ryan was texting Ella when his dorm door flew open.
Diego barged in. "Bro, you're trending on some dark web thread."
Ryan dropped his phone. "What?"
Diego pulled out his laptop and turned it to him. A post was up on a private school gossip forum—one that wasn't even supposed to exist anymore.
A new thread: THE ROSE & THE PEASANT.
There it was—a live feed. A video of last night's kiss in the garden.
Ryan stared at the screen, frozen. "That was private. Who the hell recorded it?"
Diego looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You've got enemies with money and history. This… this was planted."
Ryan stood, fists clenched. "They crossed the line."
But even he didn't know how deep that line went.
****
Ella sat on the bed, staring at the second item that had fallen out of the envelope—a USB stick, shaped like a scorpion.
It was labeled only with a single letter: M.
Lexi hesitated. "You think it's safe?"
"No," Ella said. "But I think it's necessary."
They plugged it into her laptop. A folder popped up. Inside: dozens of video clips. One after another, recorded from inside her dorm.
Her undressing.
Her crying.
Her reading private letters.
"Oh my God," Lexi whispered. "You've been watched. For weeks."
Ella's skin turned to ice. She clicked one more file.
The screen turned black. Then, a distorted voice played:
"You're so predictable, Ella. So easy to break. He won't save you. Not this time. You woke up love before time… and now, you'll pay for it."
The voice ended in static.
And then the screen showed a countdown:
48:00:00.
Lexi grabbed her hand. "What is that?! What happens in forty-eight hours?"
Ella didn't know.
But whatever it was, it had already started ticking.
*****
Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the Duvall estate, Clarissa sat in her designer robe, bruised ego still bleeding.
Her father stood over her, holding a file.
"You embarrassed me," he said flatly. "But redemption is still possible."
Clarissa sniffed, eyes red. "She took everything from me."
He dropped the file in front of her.
"Then take it back. With precision. Not passion."
Inside the file was a school floorplan.
Ella's dorm.
Ryan's schedule.
And one line highlighted in red:
Final performance: Friday Night—Las Estrellas Talent Showcase.
Clarissa smiled.
So did her father.
And in another room of the estate, screens lit up again—each one playing another video of Ella's life.
The scorpion blinked red.
*****
Back at school, Ella met Ryan behind the observatory.
She didn't speak—just handed him the USB.
He watched one video. That was all it took.
Rage flashed in his eyes.
"Whoever this is… they're going to regret everything."
Ella looked at him, vulnerable but brave. "We don't have time for slow moves anymore."
Ryan stepped closer.
"I'm not just going to protect you," he whispered. "I'm going to destroy whoever did this."
Their lips met again, not out of lust—but urgency.
Love born in fire.
******
But above them, in a hidden vent grate, a tiny red dot blinked.
Watching.
Recording.
Counting down.
44:23:51…