Mr. Brown, our homeroom teacher, came running at the noise. But the moment he saw Maxwell Northcott, his face drained of authority.
"Sir Maxwell," he said quickly, his tone shifting into obsequiousness. Then he turned on me with a glare.
"Clara! Starting trouble again?"
I could only stare at him, trembling, as the truth hit me like a second blow—this university belonged to the Northcott family. And I was nothing to them.
Mr. Brown, servile and blind to my pain, didn’t even glance at my mangled fingers. I forced myself to look up at him through the haze of agony.
"They were clearly bullying me, yet you accuse me of causing trouble. Are you blind?"
His face stiffened for a moment, but then he recovered with shameless ease.
"Maxwell was simply correcting your arrogance—teaching you how to behave. That’s not bullying."
The way he turned to Maxwell after speaking, eyes gleaming with flattery, made my stomach churn.
"Maxwell, am I right?"
Maxwell snorted.
Colette crossed her arms, her voice dripping with condescension.
"Mr. Brown’s right. Everyone here can vouch for it—Maxwell was just helping Clara learn her place."
Her hangers-on jumped in instantly.
"Yeah, it’s for her own good. Who told her to be so shameless, wearing whatever another guy gives her?"
"Everyone knows Clara chased Maxwell first. He only agreed to date her out of pity."
"Honestly, she’s never been good enough for him—then she goes and flirts with someone else?"
Maxwell folded his arms, looking at me like a judge passing sentence.
"You hear that? Everyone thinks you’re not worthy. Kneel down, apologize, promise to be loyal, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll forgive you."
I had no idea why he thought the necklace came from another man. But in that moment, I knew one thing for certain—there was no future between us.
"Dream on," I said coldly. "Break up. I don’t date men who live off gossip."
I turned away from him, cradling my throbbing hand as I gathered the ashes from the cracked pavement into a small porcelain vial.
Silence fell over the field. Then came the whispers:
"No way… did Maxwell just get dumped?"
"She’s insane. With her background, how could she dump him?"
"Maxwell—the proud, untouchable golden boy—dumped by her?"
The murmurs sliced through his pride like blades. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing on the vial in my hands.
He strode forward and kicked it.