Ignoring Millie's bloodless face, Maeve leaned in and murmured, "And I promise no amount of paid PR will scrub it."
Millie had never been afraid of much.
But Maeve made real fear crawl up her spine.
Trying to sound tough, Millie demanded, "How do I know you won't screw me over afterward?"
Maeve gave a cold laugh. "You don't get to negotiate."
She checked her phone. "Timer starts now. You've got fifty minutes."
Millie felt the fear hit her from the inside, leaving her numb.
The anonymous post really had been hers—an alternate account, hidden ID, the whole thing.
The photo had been sent by a classmate. That person knew Millie hated Maeve, and they'd happened to catch Maeve near Azure Bay the night before.
Millie had asked who Maeve was with.
It was dark. The friend could only say it was a man who looked sharp and expensive, but they couldn't make out his face.
Millie had taken the bait and run with it, writing a scandalous story about Maeve being kept by some wealthy businessman.
A photo made it "real," and within hours Maeve was the campus's favorite target.
Millie had wanted to ruin her.
Instead, she'd managed to load the gun and point it at herself.
To put out the fire, Millie recorded an apology video at lightning speed.
In it, tears streaked down her face as she admitted the "kept woman" rumor was something she'd fabricated out of jealousy.
The story wasn't true. The photo, she claimed, had been edited.
She said she'd lost her head because Maeve had taken the top spot on this year's campus beauty ranking, and in a moment of impulse she'd crossed a line.

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