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What has he dug up on the Wilsons?
It’d be so simple just to ask. To have Wilder hack into their phone and computers, or take a peek through their security cameras. What if there was a record of the deal his parents made with Jack? A contract stating he becomes the tire supplier to NASCAR seconds after the I dos, then stated on the bottom, what the Wilsons get in return.
It’s not like men and women don’t check up on their other half all the time. People run background checks. They do their due diligence before marrying a complete stranger.
Someone came in the room and spoke to Professor Burgess in low tones.
“Miss Sinclair?”
Torn out of my thoughts, I heeded her gesture for me to come up to the front.
“The financial office closes in an hour,” she said. “It seems there’s an issue with your dorm refund and one of the staff is asking you to come in and resolve it. Have you finished your quiz?”
“Yes, I’m done.”
“Then you’re free to go. The notes on the rest of the lecture will be available on the portal tonight.”
“Thank you, Professor Burgess.”
The messenger was a tall, sturdy girl in a button-down top and black pants. I grabbed my stuff and followed her out into the hall.
“Did they say what the issue was?”
“No, but my guess is Florence is going to tell you in person that you can’t get a refund,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The cutoff for that passed.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’d guess that too.”
My attention wandered back to Victor, and my hand wandered to my phone. Pulling it out of my backpack, I pulled up Rafael’s name and hovered over the message button.
I shouldn’t think of it like I’m breaking Victor’s trust. What I’m doing is proving I can trust him. Proving that he’s worth the commitment he’s asking of me. Proving I’ll find something to love within those five years. When put like that, I have to ask Rafael to spy on my fiancé.
We left the building, strolling down the wide concrete path to administration. I hit message, started to type, and then closed out.
What good would come of digging up the Wilsons’ secrets? Even if there is a mini-Victor floating around, knowing about them wouldn’t change a thing. Jack won’t pay for Regalia U unless I walk down that aisle.
The plan is finally moving forward. The Royal Bastards are facing their punishment one after the other. Now isn’t the time to find out something that makes it impossible to look Victor in the face. The time for that is after the five of them are dead.
Worrying my lip, I pulled up Rafael again. Maybe just a quick check to make sure there are no Robert Dalton-sized skeletons in his—
“On your left.”
A hard force struck me in the back. I fell smack on the concrete, face bouncing off the ground and phone flying out of my hand. Vision blurred, I didn’t see the gray mass coming until it was on top of me.
Bike wheels ran over my wrist.
“Ahh!”
“Oops,” a voice said. “Sorry, Dreg, but when you lie on the ground like that, it’s easy to mistake you for trash.”
“Oh, no.”
“Is she okay?”
Pain racked my body, stealing air from my lungs faster than I breathed it in. I strained to move—lift myself as figures surrounded me.
“Let me help you,” cried the financial aid office messenger. She ran to me, tore my bag off my arm, and dumped the contents on my head.
“Stop!” They snatched my binder, textbooks, folders, and papers off me—ripping and shredding them apart. “Stop it!”
Iris, Eva, Alice, Rose, girls from the sophomore class, and girls I didn’t know piled on—screaming, cursing, showering me in glossy paper confetti.
“Slutbag Dreg!”
“Stealing our guys!”
“Get the fuck out of our school!”
Iris tangled in my hair, wrenching my neck around to glare in her hate-filled eyes. “It was supposed to be me and Victor.” Spittle showered my cheek. “Our engagement’s been unofficial since we were five. I waited while he fucked all those other sluts! Then you came out of nowhere and now he hates me!”
Swinging blind, I struck her across the temple. Iris reared back and kicked me in the stomach. The hit reverberated through my system, twisting me in on myself and stunning my lungs.
“No one had to dare me to kick your ass,” Iris spat. “It’s my pleasure.” She snatched my last surviving page of calculus homework, ripped it up and threw it on my face. “Stay away from Victor.”
They walked off without sparing me another glance. I lay there—wheezing, wrist throbbing, wetness pressing behind my eyes. In the distance, four girls, each prettier than the last, watched me from the steps of the psych building.
I could do nothing as Piper, Gabriella, Everleigh, and Saylor approached, crushing my things beneath their Prada shoes.
