Isabel didn't sleep that night.
Even with Jude asleep in the other bed, the shadows in their room didn't feel quiet. Her textbooks were still on the floor where she'd dropped them earlier, but it wasn't the mess that bothered her. It was the drawer. Her favorite notebook—the one she hid her personal writings in—had been opened and placed on top of her pillow.
And she never did that.
A faint chill crawled up her spine as she sat up slowly, eyes darting across the dim room. Could it have been Jude? No—Jude wouldn't do that. He respected her privacy more than anyone.
Then who?
She picked up the notebook, flipping through the first few pages. Nothing seemed missing or tampered with. Still, her gut screamed otherwise. She hugged it tightly to her chest, as if it were the last thing tethering her sanity.
Sleep wasn't an option. Not with her thoughts spiraling between the mystery and Adrian's kiss still lingering like a forbidden song in her chest.
—
Adrian sat in his car for over an hour the next morning. He should've gone home the night before, but he couldn't. He'd driven aimlessly, thinking, trying to not think, and ended up parking at the edge of the old staff lot—hidden and unused.
The echo of her voice still lingered in his ears, soft and sincere when she said, "Don't pull away from me again."
He had. But last night, he didn't.
Now everything felt heavier.
He knew the rules—the boundaries. He'd written them himself, enforced them in his lectures. But Isabel broke through those walls without even knowing. With a glance. A laugh. That stubborn way she challenged him in class like she didn't care who he was.
But it wasn't just her.
Something about Daniel—the file Adrian found while doing background checks on a research assistant candidate—stuck with him. Isabel's ex. The name sounded familiar, but when he dug deeper, there were police reports, mostly minor. No charges. Still, there was a pattern.
Possessiveness. Threats. Control.
Adrian had ignored it at first, chalking it up to curiosity. Now it felt different.
He stepped out of the car, coat slung over his arm, and walked through the back entrance of the faculty building. Today, he wouldn't lecture. He'd canceled class already. But he couldn't stay away—not from her.
—
Vanessa kicked open the studio door in her ripped jeans and oversized shirt that had belonged to Zara once upon a time. The place smelled like old paint and fresh coffee. Her girlfriend's chaos always looked like art—half-sculpted clay pieces, canvases leaning against every wall, and a trail of denim jackets and wires leading toward the back room.
She found Zara hunched over a sketchpad.
"You didn't call me last night," Vanessa said, leaning on the doorframe.
"I didn't know I needed permission," Zara replied without looking up.
Vanessa rolled her eyes, but there was no heat in it. "You only get that sassy when you're mad."
Zara finally looked up, eyes dark and tired. "Your brother's been sniffing around again."
Vanessa tensed. "He knows?"
"He suspects. He's seen you sneaking in and out. And I think someone's following me."
The words sat between them like cold metal.
Zara stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. "You said this would be our secret. But it's not just your family now, Vee. It's the media. The whispers. You're rich and shiny, and I'm a struggling artist who likes girls. They'll tear me apart."
Vanessa walked over, cupped Zara's face. "I'll protect you. I promise."
"You can't protect me from a family that destroys what they can't control."
Vanessa didn't respond. Because Zara was right. The Coles didn't just own companies—they owned people. And if Adrian's secret with Isabel came out… the damage would hit them all.
—
At lunch, Jude burst into Isabel's room holding two coffee cups and a brown paper bag.
"Please tell me you're hungry because I accidentally ordered three sandwiches."
Isabel managed a small smile. "You 'accidentally' always order extra when you want to snoop."
He grinned. "Guilty. So, spill. You've been weird since yesterday."
Isabel sighed, fingers curling around the cup. "Someone was in our room last night."
Jude's smile vanished. "What?"
"I found my notebook on my pillow. I didn't put it there."
He went still. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Jude stood, already pacing. "Okay. We need to report this. Get the locks checked. Cameras?"
"There aren't any in the hallway."
He stared at her. "Isabel… you don't think—?"
"I don't know what to think," she whispered.
But she did. She thought of Daniel. Of his possessive messages. The way he always knew things about her before anyone else did. She'd blocked him, yes, but Daniel had his ways.
"I'm not going to let you go through this alone," Jude said firmly.
Isabel nodded, though fear still clawed at her chest.
—
Adrian watched Isabel from across the campus lawn.
She was walking beside Jude, laughing softly, her hair tied back, one hand in the pocket of her hoodie. She looked young—too young—and he hated himself for noticing. But he also couldn't look away.
He turned and almost bumped into someone.
"Speak of the devil," Vanessa said, arms folded.
"Vanessa," Adrian muttered, adjusting his glasses.
"You've got that guilt-ridden professor look again. You kissed her, didn't you?"
He didn't answer, but his face said enough.
Vanessa sighed. "You're either about to ruin her or ruin yourself. Maybe both."
"I know," he said quietly. "I didn't mean for it to happen."
"You never do," she replied. "But things happen anyway."
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. "There's more going on. Someone's watching her."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "You think it's Daniel?"
"I'm not sure. But something feels wrong."
"You're in deeper than you admit, Adrian. I hope for all our sakes this doesn't end with someone bleeding."
Her words weren't just dramatic. In the Cole family, drama wasn't staged—it was engineered. And sometimes, it left real scars.
—
Later that night, Isabel sat by the window, watching the light bounce off wet pavement. Jude was asleep again. She couldn't stop thinking about Adrian. About the kiss. About the intrusion. It all felt like too much—yet somehow not enough.
Her phone buzzed. Blocked number.
Her stomach dropped.
She opened the message. Just a picture.
It was her. In the hallway. Yesterday.
Taken from behind.
She stared at it, heart pounding, mind racing.
Then another message:
"You're not as hidden as you think. I still see you."
She gasped, dropping the phone.
"Jude!" she cried.
He shot up instantly. "What? What happened?"
She couldn't speak. She simply held out the phone with trembling fingers.
Jude read the message, face hardening. "He's watching you. This is war now.