Chapter 2
Edgar's interrogation hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.
I stared at his face, so handsome and animated with anger, and suddenly the whole situation felt absurd.
Who was I planning to elope with?
Obviously, it was you, my dear broke boyfriend.
He was the guy who always spun me wild dreams whenever I was at rock bottom.
When I said to him, "Ed, I'm broke. I can't even afford a meal."
"Hang in there, sweetheart. Once I get my scholarship, I'll give it all to you," he replied gently.
"Ed, my parents are pressuring me to pay off the debt. I can't take it anymore," I said.
"Don't worry, baby. Once we go to Dalias, everything will turn out fine," he replied.
"Ed, my thesis has been shot down by my advisor eighteen times. I don't think I'll ever graduate," I sighed.
He replied, "Is your advisor targeting you on purpose? How is someone like that even a teacher? Forget school. I'll take care of you."
He'd take care of you.
Hearing those three words from him, especially after he'd tossed my thesis in the trash, was the most ironic thing I'd heard.
I forced a smile, one that looked even uglier than crying.
"What's it got to do with you, Mr. Bennett?" I shot back. "So now you're going to police my private life too?"
Edgar's eyes suddenly darkened, a storm brewing that threatened to swallow the room whole.
"Private life?" Edgar echoed.
He stepped in, his tall frame closing the distance, nearly trapping Grace against the desk.
"You think hooking up with your advisor online counts as private life?" Edgar demanded. "Grace, do you think I'm some game to you?"
He kept coming closer, making me step back again and again until my shoulders pressed against the icy wall. I had nowhere left to go.
I could feel him barely holding something back. It was a fury so raw and out of control that it was almost scary.
Well, this was a first.
I'd known Edgar for three years, ever since that elective in sophomore year. He was always so aloof, like nothing could ever touch him.
He always seemed untouchable, like nothing could ever throw him off his game. Everything was always under his control.
But now, he was losing his composure all because of a stupid lie he'd exposed.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.
I kept up the act, but my mind was racing, desperately searching for a way out.
I couldn't admit it.
If I confessed, he'd think I was even more manipulative and disgusting.
What would he do to me then?
Would he make sure I never graduate and kick me out of school?
Or... would he destroy me in some even crueler way?
"You don't know?" Edgar sneered.
He raised his phone, tapping open that all-too-familiar chat window.
The last message between us was the one I'd sent. [I'm done with school. I'm coming to find you.]
His finger slid upward, scrolling through all those sickeningly sweet messages. Every promise he'd made to me lay bare in the cold air for both of us to see.
[Baby, did you miss me today?]
[Hey, don't stress about your thesis. Your health comes first.]
[Wait for me. I'll come get you soon.]
I felt my cheeks burning, like I've been stripped bare in front of everyone.
"Enough!" I snapped.
I screamed, lunging for Edgar's phone, desperate to snatch it from his grip.
Edgar caught my wrist effortlessly, his hold so tight it felt like he might crush my bones.
"Ow..." I couldn't help but cry out in pain.
Edgar's voice was icy. "So you do know what pain feels like?"
He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear, but his words were cold. "Grace, you'll do absolutely anything to graduate, won't you?
"Even resort to these cheap, dirty tricks?
"What, you think you can trap me, and I'll give you a free pass?"
"Who do you think you are?"
My whole body was shaking. It was not from fear, but from pure rage and humiliation.
In his eyes, I was nothing but a shameless schemer who'd do anything for a diploma.
To him, all my struggles and pain were some elaborate act.
I lift my head, my eyes red and locked on him. "That's exactly what I think. Mr. Bennett, are you happy now?"
Edgar's grip on my wrist tightened, his eyes burning with anger, disappointment, and something I couldn't quite read.
He spoke, each word sharp and deliberate, "Grace Evans, you have three days.
"Write a completely new project proposal, and choose a field you've never worked on before."
"If you can't pull it off, you'll get disciplinary action and kiss this school goodbye."
With that, he yanked his hand away from mine and strode off, his back cold and ruthless.
My wrist was covered in angry red marks, burning with pain.
But no matter how much it hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain inside me.
Three days, a whole new field.
This was an impossible task.
He was not giving me a shot.
He was basically handing me a death sentence.