The words hit like a physical blow, stealing my breath.

"I know what you did last summer." Her eyes glitter with malice. "I didn't think you had it in you to put out like that."

She turns her phone around and there they are—the photos that have haunted my nightmares for a year, now weaponized in the hands of my worst enemy.

My stomach lurches.

She steps closer, the scent of her expensive perfume choking me. "Has Nate seen them too? Or maybe he doesn’t know about how easily you spread your legs for strangers." Another step forward, then a sharp shove that makes me stumble.

Her voice turns to ice. "You're so pathetic."

Tears burn behind my eyes, and her smile grows sharper.

"You going to cry?" she mocks. "You going to run and hide behind Nate every time things get tough?"

"Farrah, stop," I manage, hating how my voice trembles.

"Stop? Why?" Her laugh echoes off the walls. "You think Nate is yours to claim? He's not. And deep down, you know it. You've been nothing but a problem since you got here. And now? Now I'm going to fix it." She jabs a perfectly manicured finger into my chest, forcing me back. "You think this little damsel in distress act isn't going to get tiresome? As if Nate needs more drama in his already fucked up life. You're nothing but a little slut who can't handle reality."

The words slice through old wounds, dredging up Evan's cruel voice, the way he'd sneered those same words before everything shattered.

My breath catches on a sob.

Farrah's grin turns feral.

"Poor little Nora, so fragile." She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. "Pa-thetic."

Then comes the final blow—she spits in my face.

I freeze, humiliation and fury warring in my chest. Before I can move, a voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

"Back the fuck away." Camilla's voice rings with steel.

Farrah barely turns before Camilla strides in, her heels striking the floor like war drums. Her eyes blaze with protective fury, her smile promising violence.

"Unless you want me to rip out each one of your fake eyelashes and those bargain-bin Barbie extensions, I suggest you turn around and get the fuck out of here," Camilla says, voice low and dangerous.

Farrah's confidence cracks, her smirk slipping. "Stay out of this, Camilla. This doesn't concern you."

“When it comes to my friends, everything concerns me." Camilla's arms cross, her stance ready for battle. "But then again, you wouldn't know what it's like to have actual friends now, would you? Fuck off before I show you how far my foot can travel up your ass."

Farrah glares, but after a tense moment, she backs down.

"Slut," she mutters as she storms out.