Chapter 3

Shame crashed over me, like I was being stripped naked and dragged around for everyone to gawk at. I honestly wanted to rip my old, dumb self apart for acting like such an idiot.

Seriously, what the fuck was I on? How did I end up turning into Matthew's sorry-ass lapdog?

Just then, my phone trilled with its ringtone.

The screen lit up—the dean was calling.

"Aryana, how can you be so careless about your reputation as a young woman? You're making a mess of this school!" the dean barked.

I was already pissed off, and now it felt like I was getting roasted for something I didn't even do.

"Sir, this is all just lies and gossip! How is any of this my fault? I'm the victim here!" I snapped back.

The dean scoffed, "Listen, flies don't swarm around something unless it stinks. If you didn't act shady, nobody would spread dirt about you. Better shape up if you actually want to graduate."

Then came the sharp beep of the call ending—I didn't even get a chance to explain myself.

Never in my whole damn life had I been treated this unfairly.

Just because Laylah decided to spout off some stupid lies, I was getting slammed by a tsunami of hate.

I was so pissed. Seriously, I was about to explode.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Steve Rosario.

"I'll be waiting for you at school tomorrow. This time, I'm not holding anything back—no mercy," Aryana said, her tone icy and unyielding.

Steve was my dad's top lawyer, flown back from overseas overnight. He was a legend in the legal world—never lost a case.

Once, I teased him about it.

"Mr. Rosario, with a name like yours, why would you bother coming all the way back just to handle my little mess?" I joked.

Steve just grinned, totally unlike the serious lawyers you see on TV.

"Hey, Your Highness, jobs that pay well and are easy to handle are hard to come by. Just tell me what you need, and I'll send the bill to your dad," he said with a cheeky grin.

But I didn't let him go in swinging back then. I just had him fire off a warning letter, barely enough to give them a slap on the wrist.

After asking around, I finally tracked Laylah down in the dance studio.

But what I didn't expect was to see Matthew there too.

He was dressed head to toe in the look Laylah obsessed over, clutching her favorite coffee and waiting obediently off to the side, going all-in just to make her happy—he looked exactly like some lovesick puppy.

Just seeing all that gave me the creeps, so I wasn't about to waste another second. I was ready to end this quick.

"Laylah, that post on the forum is killing my reputation. Take it down—right now," I said, keeping my voice cool and firm.

Laylah didn't even bother to look my way. She headed straight for Matthew, acting like I wasn't even in the room.

"Matthew, I'm thirsty," she cooed, her tone syrupy and sweet.

Matthew instantly brought the coffee up to Laylah's lips, eager to please her, like her own loyal butler.

The look they shared was burning with intensity, putting any lovesick couple to shame—it was way beyond just flirting.

My temples throbbed, and I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.

Laylah strutted over, that smug winner's grin plastered all over her face.

"Aryana, I'll take the post down—if you beg me. Who knows, maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll let you off the hook," she sneered.

Her voice was sharp and cutting, and more and more people were crowding around the door, drawn in by the drama.

I glanced over at Matthew, who was staring holes into Laylah, and clenched my jaw tight.

"Beg you? Don't flatter yourself. Delete the post and apologize, and I might just let this slide," I shot back, my tone ice-cold.

"Aryana, are you seriously daydreaming in broad daylight?" Laylah snorted, like I just told the punchline of a bad joke.

She spun around, latching onto Matthew's arm with an over-the-top pout, laying on the fake sweetness thick.

"Your loyal lapdog is bullying me—aren't you going to step in?" she whined, her voice sugary-sweet and annoyingly shrill.

Matthew locked eyes with me, his glare colder than ice—like I was nothing but a bug to him.

"Get lost. Don't come near her again," Matthew spat, every word dripping with disdain.

As Matthew shut me out like that, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging deep into my palms.

So Matthew wasn't this emotionless robot—he'd actually get mad if it meant protecting the girl he liked. And he wasn't really cold at all; he just poured every ounce of his sweetness and attention into Laylah, leaving nothing for anyone else.

The contrast between being head-over-heels loved and totally ignored was so sharp, it set off a tidal wave of gossip—everyone in the crowd started buzzing.

"She's seriously shameless—going at Laylah just to steal her man. Guess she finally got put in her place," someone snickered.

"Laylah's the campus queen. How does she even have the guts to go up against her?" another scoffed.

I pulled a bitter smile—all I could do was laugh at myself.

Just then, Steve burst into the room, his assistant trailing behind, radiating full-on lawyer energy—like he was ready to throw down.

"Miss Roy, your online posts have done serious harm to my client's reputation and stirred up a ton of ugly rumors. We've tried reaching an agreement with you several times, but since you refused to cooperate, we're filing a lawsuit. So here's the deal—you need to delete every single post and make a public apology to my client. No more excuses," Steve declared, his voice cutting through the room like a knife.

I glanced at the recorder in Steve's hand, feeling a bit exposed and awkward.

"Why'd you jump in early? Weren't you supposed to wait for my cue?" I grumbled.

Steve just shot me a sly smile, mysterious as ever.

"Come on, like I'd stand by and watch someone bully our royal princess," Steve joked, a playful undertone to his voice.

Then he gave Matthew a once-over, making no effort to hide the disdain on his face.

"Princess, you really need to keep your eyes sharp—don't go treating every random nobody like they're some kind of treasure," Steve teased, laying it on thick.

"You!" Matthew's face went dark, clearly pissed off.

Steve's teasing put me in a spot—did I laugh or snap at him? I ended up just shooting him a playful, annoyed glare.