Chapter 33
Samantha's POV
The applause for Ellie and Jackson's performance thundered through Wilton Hall like a physical force. I sat frozen in my seat beside Lucas, my fingernails digging so deep into my palms that I could feel the skin breaking. Around me, people were on their feet, cheering and whistling. Someone behind me actually screamed "ENCORE!"
I forced myself to look at Lucas. His gaze was still locked on the stage exit where Ellie had disappeared, and there was something in his expression that made my stomach twist—not simple appreciation, but something deeper. Regret, maybe. Or recognition of something he'd lost.
"You knew." The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't help it. "You knew she was performing, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"
Lucas blinked, finally turning to look at me. His confusion seemed genuine. "What? Samantha, I had no idea. Ellie hasn't spoken to me for a long time. How would I know what she's planning?"
The rational part of my brain knew he was probably telling the truth. But rationality had left the building the moment I'd watched Ellie move across that stage like she owned it, watched the entire auditorium fall in love with her all over again.
The stage lights blazed back to life, and the emcee's voice rang out: "Next up, we have Brianna Ford with her interpretation of 'Moonlight Sonata'!"
My breath caught. This was it—the moment I'd been waiting for. I sat up straighter, my previous anger at Lucas momentarily forgotten as I fixed my eyes on the stage entrance.
And then Brianna appeared.
The world seemed to tilt sideways.
Brianna glided onto the stage in a deep purple velvet gown that caught the stage lights like liquid amethyst. Not the silver-blue dress I'd seen her trying on. Not the delicate silver heels that I had carefully filed down the supports in our dorm.
New shoes. Black suede with sturdy heels. Completely different.
My heart dropped into my stomach. My breathing became shallow, rapid. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat.
No. No no no.
"Are you okay?" Lucas's hand touched my arm. "You look pale."
I forced a smile that felt like it might crack my face in half. "I'm fine. Just... hot in here."
But I wasn't fine. Not even close. Because if Brianna had changed her entire costume, that meant she'd known. Someone had warned her. Someone had checked the original outfit and found my sabotage.
On stage, Brianna's voice soared through the opening notes, clear and controlled. The audience was already entranced. But I couldn't focus on the performance. My mind was racing through scenarios, calculating risks, planning exits.
"I need to leave." The words tumbled out before I could think them through.
Lucas frowned. "Now? The show's not even half over. And we have practice after this—since it's the anniversary celebration, it's only half the usual time. I can be with you right after—"
"I don't feel well." My voice came out thin, trembling. "Really, Lucas. I just need to go lie down."
"Let me come with you—"
"No." Too sharp. I softened my tone. "No, you should stay. Your team is counting on you. I'll be fine, I promise."
I didn't wait for his response. I was already pushing past the people in our row, ignoring their annoyed mutters, focused only on reaching the exit. Behind me, I heard Lucas call my name once, but I didn't turn back.
The lobby was nearly empty, just a few stragglers checking their phones. My hands shook as I pulled out my own phone, desperate for distraction, for some sign that everything was going to be okay.
The dorm group chat had several new messages. I stopped walking, leaning against the wall near the main entrance, and opened the chat.
Vanessa: OMG Brianna you were AMAZING! But wait, didn't you have that silver-gray dress? When did you change?
My heart stopped. Three dots appeared, then Brianna's response loaded:
Brianna: Went to Wilton this afternoon to see the stage setup. The silver dress totally washed out against the backdrop. Switched to this purple one last minute. Thank god I did!
The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. If Brianna thought it was just a lighting issue, if she'd simply decided to change costumes on her own...
My fingers moved quickly across the screen: The purple looks SO much better. Really brings out your skin tone!
I leaned my head back against the wall, exhaling slowly. Maybe I'd gotten lucky. Maybe no one would ever know.
The autumn air hit my face like a slap as I pushed through the main doors. Campus was quiet, most students either at the show or at various parties. Street lamps cast pools of yellow light across the pathways, and in the distance, I could hear muffled music from the student union.
I pulled my jacket tighter and started walking toward the main gate. My phone buzzed—Lucas asking if I was okay—but I ignored it. I just needed to get back to my dorm, crawl into bed, and pretend this whole night had never happened.
I was twenty feet from the gate when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I tried to scream, but another hand covered my mouth, muffling the sound. Panic exploded through my system—memories of my father's rage, of Jack's cruel games, of every time I'd been powerless—
I was being dragged. Not toward the gate but sideways, into the shadows behind the decorative hedges that lined the entrance. I kicked out, connected with something solid, heard a grunt, but the hands didn't loosen.
Then suddenly I was released, stumbling backward. I spun around, ready to run—
And found myself face to face with two men in dark suits. Security contractors, by the look of them. Professional. Expensive.
And standing behind them, backlit by the street lamp, was Brianna Ford.
"Hello, Samantha." Brianna's voice was ice and silk. "We need to chat."
"I—" My throat was so tight I could barely force words out. "I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Don't." Brianna stepped closer, and even in heels, she seemed to tower over me. "Don't insult my intelligence with lies."
The ground seemed to drop out from under my feet. "That's not—I didn't—it was an accident—"
"An accident?" Brianna's laugh was sharp enough to cut. "You accidentally loosened all the stress points on my dress? Accidentally filed down the heel supports on my shoes?"
One of the security men shifted position, blocking my view of the gate. The other pulled out his phone. The implications were clear: I wasn't leaving until Brianna was done with me.
"I didn't—" My voice cracked. I could feel tears building, but I wasn't sure if they were real or just another defense mechanism. "Maybe... maybe it was Vanessa. She's always been jealous of you, always making comments about your shopping trips—"
"Stop." The word cracked like a whip. "Stop trying to pin this on someone else. I know it was you. And now, you're going to face consequences."
One of the security men stepped forward. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.
"What are you—no, wait—"
The other man moved in, and suddenly they were pulling at my jacket. I screamed, tried to fight, but they were too strong. My jacket came off, and then hands were at the buttons of my shirt—
"STOP IT! PLEASE!" Tears were streaming down my face now, real and hot. I was eight years old again, hiding in the closet while my father raged. I was sixteen, curled up while Jack laughed at my fear.
The camera flashed. Once, twice, three times.
"That's enough." Brianna's voice cut through my panic. The men stepped back, and I collapsed against the hedge, sobbing, trying desperately to pull my shirt closed over my exposed bra.
Brianna crouched down, meeting my eyes. "You wanted to humiliate me in front of the entire school? You wanted me to fall apart on that stage? Well, congratulations—now you know how that feels."
She held up her phone, showing me the photos. "These stay private... if you do exactly what I say."
"What do you want?" I could barely get the words out through my tears.