Chapter 9
In the weeks that followed, the fallout was brutal.
Lucas was suspended pending criminal investigation.
Bella was removed from campus housing and placed under disciplinary review, then quietly withdrew before the university could complete the process.
Jennifer and Rachel stopped speaking to each other after each blamed the other for “believing Bella too much.”
Campus gossip accounts had a field day for nearly a month.
There were edits of the gala footage. Hot takes. Think pieces. Memes.
My favorite was a screenshot of Bella standing frozen under the giant screen with the caption:
Final boss? Babe, you were the tutorial level.
I saved that one.
Of course I did.
As for Damian and me, things became strangely easy after that.
No more coded messages.
No more staged misunderstandings.
No more pretending not to care in public.
He picked me up from class openly.
Waited for me outside the library.
Brought me coffee without asking what I wanted, because by then he already knew.
Once, when I came back to the dorm after spending the day with him, Jennifer looked at the flowers in my arms and muttered, “Some girls really do win in the end.”
I smiled politely and walked past her.
Because the truth was, I hadn’t won because Damian chose me.
I had won the moment I stopped letting Bella define the game.
She always thought relationships were competitions.
That men were trophies.
That if she could steal what belonged to someone else, it proved her value.
But people like Bella never understand one thing.
Taking garbage from someone’s curb is not a victory.
And trying to steal something that was never available to you in the first place?
That’s just self-humiliation in a prettier dress.
About a month later, Damian took me to dinner at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Halfway through dessert, he suddenly said, “There’s something you should know.”
I looked up.
“That usually means trouble.”
“It might.”
He handed me his phone.
On the screen was an unknown number and a message request.
It was from Bella.
Of course it was.
I opened it.
Molly, I know you hate me, but can we talk? Just once. There are things you don’t know.
I stared at the message.
Then at Damian.
“You didn’t reply?”
“I don’t respond to random women.”
I nearly choked on my drink.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
I looked back down at the message.
For a second, very briefly, I wondered if there really was more to say. More to hear. Some final confession, some hidden angle, some last attempt to twist the knife.
Then I remembered Bella’s face at the gala.
Not hurt.
Not regret.
Fury.
The fury of someone who got caught, not someone who changed.
I deleted the request and handed the phone back.
“No.”
Damian took the phone, then reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Good.”
The city lights flickered below us.
I lifted my glass.
“To random women.”
He clinked his glass against mine, eyes laughing.
“To never adding them.”