The night after Tristan's return was anything but quiet.
Social media exploded with whispers and reels—photos of him casually walking through the university gates, surrounded by his elite guards, dressed like sin and privilege stitched into human form. His return wasn't just noticed. It was feared. Admired. Envied. Desired.
"He's back?""Did you see the coat he wore?""He looks better than ever.""He's even more arrogant now."
Tristan Greystorm had returned—and he hadn't come quietly.
Next Morning – College Cafeteria
Gianna entered the cafeteria in silence.
Heads turned. Conversations halted. Everyone had heard the rumors—about how quiet she'd become since Tristan left, how she stopped snapping back at Celeste or Sabrina, how she avoided everyone… even Emrys.
She walked to the far corner, her usual grace intact, but her spirit heavy like a storm cloud barely holding itself together. She sat alone, opened her laptop, and sipped black coffee slowly as if it could stop the shaking under her skin.
Sabrina slid into the chair across from her like a gust of perfume and poison.
"Morning, sunshine," she said with a too-sweet smile.
Gianna didn't look up. "You're blocking the light."
Sabrina leaned forward. "Still sharp, I see. But tell me—how does it feel? Watching Tristan walk past you like you don't exist? How's it feel to be forgotten?"
Gianna finally looked at her.
"Funny," she said, eyes like glass. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
Sabrina's smile faltered for half a beat.
Gianna leaned back. "Be careful, Sabrina. Playing the villain in someone else's story is a good way to be written out early."
Campus Grounds – Emrys & Tristan
Emrys stood near the edge of the sports wing, watching Tristan inspect one of his luxury cars like it was a mirror.
"You vanished for weeks without telling anyone," Emrys said.
"I told Celeste," Tristan replied, not looking up.
"You didn't tell me."
Tristan finally glanced his way. "Didn't think you'd notice. You were busy playing therapist to Gianna."
Emrys stiffened. "She's been quiet. Sad, even."
"And you thought you'd slip into the empty space?" Tristan stepped closer, eyes glinting. "Hoping the wounded girl would fall for the nice guy?"
"I care about her."
"No, you care about winning her," Tristan shot back. "But here's the truth, cousin—she's not a prize. And you were never even close."
Emrys stared at him, wounded. "You used to protect her."
"That was before," Tristan said, voice cold. "Before she became one of them."
Midday – Lecture Hall
Celeste stood near the back wall, silent and poised like a general in disguise. Sabrina whispered beside her, eyes on Gianna.
"She's not reacting."
"She will," Celeste murmured. "Eventually."
"She barely blinks when we talk," Sabrina muttered. "I called her tragic and she didn't even flinch."
"She's not broken," Celeste replied. "She's calculating."
"Then how do we break her?"
Celeste's gaze moved through the hall… and landed on her brother.
"Use someone she can't ignore."
Evening – Parking Lot Showdown
Gianna walked alone toward her car.
She thought she might have one peaceful evening—no eyes watching, no insults whispered, no ghosts in flesh confronting her in corridors.
She was wrong.
Tristan was already there, leaning against her car like it was his throne.
"Leaving without saying hi?" he asked, arms folded.
Gianna froze. "I didn't know you expected pleasantries now."
"I expected a reaction," Tristan said, stepping closer. "You always have one."
She turned slowly, her voice low. "I'll say this once—stay away from me."
Tristan tilted his head. "Oh?"
"I mean it," she said. "You're walking on dangerous ground. My father—he isn't the kind of man who forgives. If he thinks you care about me… if he thinks you love me…" She hesitated. "He won't hesitate to hurt you."
Tristan stared at her for a long second.
Then he laughed.
A full, cold, mocking laugh that echoed across the empty lot.
"Oh Gianna," he said, shaking his head, "you really believe that?"
She swallowed hard.
"You think I love you?" he sneered, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You think I'd risk anything for you?"
"You do," she said softly. "Whether you admit it or not—you care."
He stepped close, so close she could hear the steel in his voice.
"You're not special. You never were. You'll never be in my heart, Gianna. So stop dreaming."
Gianna flinched.
"You're lying," she whispered.
"No," he said. "I'm just not pretending anymore."
Then he turned and walked away without a second glance, his coat sweeping behind him like a blade.
Gianna stood frozen.
The air around her felt colder than it had in days.
But somewhere deep within her—under the heartbreak and shame—something ignited.
Not sorrow.
Not guilt.
But rage.