The room exploded.
“Yo! Nico made the first move?!”
“They’ve been sneaking around for years. Finally went public, huh?”
I didn’t stick around to watch the show.
I picked up my bag, head down and walked out. Back at the villa, that slow-burning fire of humiliation from dinner was still lodged in my chest like a rock.
I was done.
I took the stairs two at a time, dug my old suitcase out of the closet and started shoving clothes in without even folding.
The door flew open, crashing into the wall.
“I see you’re trying to escape,” Calla said, arms crossed in the doorway. “You’re running away because you feel guilty, aren’t you?”
Nico lingered behind her, his eyes flicking between the floor and me, face still flushed from the kiss he planted just minutes ago.
I zipped the suitcase shut, not saying a word.
When I grabbed the handle and tried to push past her, she stormed in and grabbed my wrist—hard. Her grip was tighter than I expected; her nails dug in like she meant to bruise.
“Where’s the money, River?” Her voice cracked with rage. “All two hundred and fifty grand. You don’t leave this house until you tell me where it went!”
“Let go of me,” I said, pulling back, but she held on like her life depended on it.
“I told you. It’s gone. The expenses are all logged—you can check for yourself.”
At the word expenses, Nico’s face shifted. He moved quickly, stepping between us.
“Calla, take it easy. I’m sure River has a reason for—”
“Oh, he’s got a reason alright,” she snapped. “The son of a chauffeur walking around with our class fund? You think this isn’t suspicious?”
Then her eyes locked on mine, cold and merciless.
“Just tell me straight. Was it your dad? Did he take the money?”
And there it was.
After all this time, that’s still all I was to her—the driver’s son. No matter how well I did in class, how clean I kept the books, how hard I worked—none of it mattered.
My voice shook, but not with fear. “Watch your mouth, Calla. My dad didn’t take a single cent.” I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over the transaction logs. “The records are right here. Look for yourself.”
I was about to hand it over when Nico slapped it out of my hand. The phone flew across the room and cracked against the wall.
Everything went still.
Even Calla looked stunned for a second.
“Nico, what are you—?”
“You’ve got boost on your system,” he said quickly. “We can only solve this matter when we’re sober. Let’s not deal with this right now. Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”
He didn’t give her a choice. He all but dragged her out of my room while she stumbled behind him, too caught off guard to protest.
But something about Nico’s reaction stuck with me. He looked… scared. Like he knew something I didn’t.
I knelt to pick up my phone. The screen was spiderwebbed, but somehow still alive.
It started buzzing in my hand. Incoming video call.
Nico.
He had just walked out. Why was he calling?
I answered on instinct.
And the second the feed came through, my heart stopped.
The image shook for a second—then it focused.
Two people stumbled into view.
Calla and Nico.
Laughing, breathless, tangled in each other. Clothes half-on.
“So,” Nico panted, breath hot and close to the mic, “tell me again. Which one you like better. Me, or River?”
Calla gave a bored little laugh, hands trailing down his chest. “Are you joking?” she scoffed. “He was just the chauffeur’s son—now he’s a thief, too. No way he even comes close to you.”
Nico chuckled low, turned his head toward the phone and looked straight at the camera.
He knew what he was doing.
And then the screen went dark as the phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor.
My chest burned.
I had always thought—maybe somewhere, beneath her snobbery and sarcasm—Calla saw me. When I sprained my ankle in gym, she was the one who helped me limp to the nurse’s office. When I stayed late studying, she left sliced fruit on my desk.
She always offered me a ride. She always sat close in group projects.
And I… I thought maybe, just maybe, there was something there.
But to her, I was never anything more than the help.
