The mixer ended. The reception area was half-empty.
Kaliyah sat at a small table in the corner. She poked at the shattered screen of her phone, trying to read an email.
"Look at this. The beggar is still here."
Kaliyah did not look up. She recognized the shrill voice. Amber Vance.
Amber walked over. She held a steaming Starbucks cup in her hand. Three girls from her sorority trailed behind her like lapdogs.
Amber slammed her hand on Kaliyah's table. "Did you really think throwing your garbage phone at Mr. Lott would make him look at you?"
Kaliyah kept her eyes on her screen.
Amber's face turned red. "I saw you getting out of that old man's car last week. Everyone knows you sleep around to keep your scholarship. Kevin Porter said you begged him to pay your rent."
The students sitting nearby turned their heads. Whispers started.
Kaliyah finally locked her phone. She slowly raised her head. Her eyes were empty of any emotion.
"Does slandering a classmate violate your sorority's honor code, Amber?" Kaliyah asked. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the noise.
Amber gasped. Her pride was hit. Her fingers tightened around the hot coffee cup.
"Oops," Amber sneered.
She tilted her wrist. She aimed the boiling liquid directly at Kaliyah's face.
Kaliyah's operative instincts flared. Her muscles coiled like a spring. She calculated the trajectory. It would take exactly one second to grab Amber's wrist, twist it, and break the bone.
Her hand twitched upward.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black suit.
In a movement too fluid and subtle for the untrained eye to catch, she shifted her weight and slid her chair back exactly two inches. It was a calculated retreat, ensuring the boiling liquid would splash onto the table and her dark skirt, missing her face and exposed skin entirely. She kept her arms loosely at her sides, perfectly mimicking the shock of a helpless victim.
"Is this the standard of education at NYU? Washing faces with coffee?"
A cold, deep voice echoed through the open corridor.
Amber shrieked and jerked her hand back. The sudden movement splashed the boiling coffee all over her own expensive cashmere skirt.
She screamed in pain and started frantically wiping at the brown stain.
The crowd parted. Bryton stood a few feet away. The president was sweating profusely beside him.
"Miss Vance!" the president yelled. "My office. Now. You will be suspended for this."
Amber cried. She looked at Bryton, hoping for sympathy. Bryton did not even look at her.
His dark eyes bypassed the crying girl and locked onto Kaliyah sitting in the corner.
He had seen it. From his vantage point, he caught the unnatural, absolute stillness in her eyes a split second before the coffee fell. There was no panic, no flinching-only a cold, calculating readiness. He saw her subtle shift backward, a micro-adjustment that saved her face but perfectly framed her as the tragic target.
Bryton's lips curled into a cruel smirk.
"Your students have more talent for scheming than academics," Bryton said to the president.
He was talking about Amber, but his eyes never left Kaliyah. He was calling her a manipulator. He thought she played the victim on purpose.
Kaliyah understood the insult perfectly. She stared blankly at the table. She showed zero reaction.
Bryton felt a sudden, sharp irritation in his chest. It was like punching a wall of water. He turned on his heel and walked away.
The crowd scattered. Amber ran off crying.
Kaliyah picked up her backpack. As she lifted it, she saw a thick, cream-colored card sitting on the table.
Cassian had dropped it there while following Bryton.
It was a business card for the Apocalypse Corp Legal Department. On the back, handwritten in black ink: Call if you wish to pursue defamation charges.
Kaliyah stared at the card. Her jaw tightened.
