Stan watched Sophie sleep for a while longer than he probably should have.

She was curled against him, one arm draped loosely across his chest, her breathing slow and even, her face soft and unguarded in a way he’d never seen during the day.

A strand of dark hair had fallen across her cheek. He reached over and gently brushed it aside with his thumb, then, before he could talk himself out of it, leaned down and pressed a quiet kiss to her lips.

Sophie’s eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, she was still half-asleep, her gaze hazy and unfocused.

Then she registered what was happening, and instead of pulling away, she tilted her chin upward and kissed him back, softly, slowly, with the drowsy warmth of someone who wasn’t fully awake but knew exactly what she wanted.

It caught him off guard. He’d expected her to stir, maybe murmur something. Not that.

He pulled back gently. Sophie’s eyes drifted half-closed again, a small, satisfied smile settling on her lips.

She watched through heavy lids as he eased himself out of the bed and padded toward the bathroom.

By the time he emerged, showered, dressed, pulling his jacket on, she was burrowed deeper into the pillows, blinking sleepily at him from beneath the duvet.

"You’re leaving already?" Her voice was a soft, reluctant murmur.

"Yeah. I’ve got things to take care of."

"Okay." She pulled the blanket up to her chin, watching him with an expression that was trying very hard to look casual and failing beautifully. "See you at school... my love."

The last two words came out quieter than the rest, tentative, almost fragile, as if she’d tossed them into the air and was holding her breath to see if he’d catch them.

"Okay. Goodbye, Sophie. See you later."

His voice was even. Plain. The kind of tone a man uses when confirming a lunch reservation.

Sophie’s smile held, but something flickered behind her eyes, a small, barely visible flinch, gone almost before it appeared. She’d been hoping for a ’my love’ in return. She’d been half-expecting it after everything that happened last night.

But it didn’t come.

She lay still for a moment after he’d left, staring at the ceiling, and let out a long, slow breath.

’It’s okay,’ she told herself. ’It’ll take time. You’re the one who told him to buy a building just to get your Snapchat. You’re the one who kept him at arm’s length because of an anonymous forum post.’

’You can’t undo all of that in one night. No matter what happened between these sheets.’

She pressed her face into the pillow. It was still warm, still carrying the faint trace of his scent, and closed her eyes.

’I’ll make him love me. However long it takes.’

If only she knew how impossible that dream was. Stan Harrison had made a vow, a quiet, ironclad, non-negotiable vow, to never fall in love again. And so far, despite everything, that vow was holding.

Barely. But holding.

The campus was hostile the moment Stan walked through the gate.

The forum post had metastasized overnight.

What had started as Quinn Carter’s anonymous smear piece had now evolved, through the alchemy of shares, screenshots, and increasingly unhinged comment threads, into an established campus narrative. Stan Harrison was a predator. A manipulator. A scumbag who used money as a weapon against vulnerable women.

He felt the looks before he heard the whispers.

"Is that him? The one from the post?"

"He looks so normal. You’d never guess."

"You really can’t judge a book by its cover. Disgusting."

Girls who’d never spoken to him crossed to the opposite side of the path. Boys who didn’t know his name shot him hostile glances.

A group near the library entrance fell silent as he passed, then erupted into urgent murmuring the moment he was out of earshot.

Stan’s reputation, as far as the general student body was concerned, was in ruins.

He’d just finished a department lecture, one of the rare classes he still bothered attending, when Zack came storming across the quad toward him, face flushed, fists clenched at his sides.

"Stan." Zack was breathing hard, visibly furious. "It’s that Quinn Carter piece of trash. He’s been posting more garbage online, new threads, new accusations, doubling down on everything. He’s telling people you threatened Sarah. He’s telling people you..." Zack cut himself off, too angry to finish. "We need to find him. Right now. I’m going to rearrange his face."

"And who exactly are you planning to teach a lesson?"

The voice came from behind them, high, nasal, dripping with theatrical confidence.

Quinn Carter was strolling toward them across the quad with the particular swagger of a man who believed himself untouchable. He was grinning. Widely.

The grin of someone who had spent the past forty-eight hours watching his handiwork spread across the internet and was now here to collect his satisfaction in person.

Zack rounded on him instantly.

"You bastard, you actually have the nerve to show your face here?"

His voice cracked with rage. His fists were shaking. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready.

"This is a school." Quinn spread his hands, smile widening. "Go ahead. Hit me. I dare you. Let’s see how that plays out for your academic record."

The threat landed exactly where it was aimed. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Starting a fight on campus grounds, in broad daylight, in the middle of the quad, would trigger disciplinary proceedings that could follow Zack for years. Quinn knew this. He was counting on it.

He turned his attention to Stan, his grin sharpening into something meaner.

"I told you a few days ago that I’d destroy your reputation. I just didn’t expect it to happen this fast." He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels with satisfaction. "Don’t even think about dating anyone on this campus anymore. Your name is mud. Every girl within a mile of Peak University thinks you’re a predator."

He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"And don’t blame me. Blame yourself, for exploiting Sarah."

Stan looked at Quinn the way a man looks at a stain on a tablecloth, with mild distaste and the quiet certainty that it would eventually be cleaned, his phone was on record, but Quinn was very smart with his choice of words even though he didn’t know Stan was currently recording...

Stan was about to respond when a ripple moved through the surrounding crowd. Heads turned. Conversations paused.

The particular, unmistakable shift in attention that accompanied the arrival of someone who rearranged the social gravity of any space they entered.

Sophie Youngs was walking toward them.

Not casually. Not slowly. She was moving with purpose, quick, deliberate strides, her expression focused entirely on Stan, as if the hundred-odd people standing between them were furniture.

Quinn’s jaw went slack.

’What now?!’