by Stella Hart
“Doesn’t matter who it was, though,” Ruby said. “It didn’t work.”
For what felt like the millionth time, tears welled up in my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”
“Hey, you’d do the same for us, right?” Laurel asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Of course.” I swallowed thickly. “There’s nothing I hate more than injustice.”
Except Nate Lockwood, maybe.
She smiled. “Are you ready to come with us to the Dean’s office to explain everything?”
I nodded and gave her a watery smile. “Yeah, I think so.”
Ruby slung an arm around me as we headed out of the octagonal room. “You never, ever need to worry about this shit again,” she said. “It’s over.”
My smile faded as a cold realization struck at my core. With Nate behind this, there was no way it was over.
It was only the beginning.
10
Nate
With narrowed eyes, I read the email that had just been sent out to every student at Blackthorne.
* * *
Dear students,
A lewd video of a current Blackthorne student was recently sent to our student and staff directory after a person (or persons) was able to breach our database to collect everyone’s contact information. Rest assured, the breach has been fixed, and your data is safe.
I am writing to you today to provide some clarity on the matter of the video.
Firstly, the tape was a fake. It was created using what is known as ‘Deepfake’ technology in order to smear the student in question. This was brought to our attention after the video was released, and we have since confirmed it with three independent experts.
Secondly, this is a clear-cut case of cyberbullying. Bullying is not just something that happens with children on the playground—it is also prevalent among college students and adults in the workplace. Virtual harassment is just as serious as harassment made in person, and it can actually feel more devastating to the victim because of the public nature, large audience size, and long-term effects of public shaming.
The anonymity of the perpetrator is also a serious problem, because the victim remains unaware of who chose to target them. This can result in serious paranoia and mistrust, which can lead to ongoing health and psychological issues.
Overall, cyberbullying can be extremely damaging to a student’s personal and academic life, and these damages can follow them to their future career.
At Blackthorne, we aim to create a safe, friendly, and enjoyable environment for all of our students to ensure that they can pursue their studies while feeling secure and confident. As part of our commitment to providing that safe environment, we consider bullying in any form to be unacceptable. We expect civility and mutual respect from our students. Freedom of expression does not mean freedom to harass or threaten others.
If you have any information on the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of this recent incident, please contact me. You will be able to remain anonymous if that is a concern for you.
For those in our community who have experienced bullying in the past, I hope you will feel comfortable enough to continue your studies here despite the shock of this incident. If you would like some help or guidance with this or simply want to know more about our free student counseling programs, please visit our website or contact Student Services.
Thank you,
Brian Rademacher
Dean of Students
* * *
Angry heat prickled up the back of my neck. I slammed the lid of my laptop down and went over to my window to let in some cool air. From this side of the room, I could see the twinkling lights of the distant homes surrounding the dark waters of Arcadia Bay. It was a nice view, but the beauty was lost on me in my current state.
One day.
One fucking day.
That was all it took for my scheme to be uncovered. No one actually knew that it was me behind the whole thing, but still… it was ruined. Down the fucking drain.
I’d hired the very best computer experts to make the tape for me, and they assured me that no one would be able to tell it was fake. It looked good enough to me when I first saw it, but I now knew that the so-called experts were lazy and incompetent enough to leave a few incorrect frames in some of the scenes under the assumption that no one would notice the split-seconds of difference. Some eagle-eyed asshole had gone through the tape frame by frame in order to expose its true nature, though, and now everyone knew it was a fake.
When I commissioned the tape, I hoped it would be enough to drive Alexis away from Avalon. I wanted it to happen without me having to blow the lid off her real secret, considering the emotional shitstorm that would ignite for the people of the island if I did that, and I figured a dirty, humiliating sex scandal was my best bet.
Public shaming was an absolute bitch, and most people couldn’t handle it. They’d slink away with their tail between their legs, unable to face anyone within a hundred miles ever again. That was what I hoped would happen with Alexis. But now everyone knew the sex tape was a cruel prank, so there was no shame for her to experience.
If anything, the incident had actually made her somewhat popular on campus. Even though the Dean of Students had only just emailed his official statement to everyone this evening, the college had posted an informal statement on all of the Blackthorne social media pages yesterday afternoon, explaining that the tape was a fake. As a result, I’d seen people fawning over Alexis all day today, begging her to forgive them for believing the tape was real and telling her she could always go to them if she ever needed a friend.
Rage grew inside me as the infuriating memories flashed in my mind, bursting into riotous bloom behind my ribs.
The worst part of the whole thing was Alexis’s smug reaction to it.
When all the sycophantic assholes groveled at her feet, begging for attention and forgiveness despite the fact that they’d been publicly trashing her the day before, she didn’t respond with an angry ‘I told you so’ attitude or ask why she should forgive them. She didn’t play the martyr or tear up at the memory of the terrible shaming either. She just arched her chin high and smiled beatifically at all of them before telling them it was okay. All was forgiven.
Her new ‘friends’ and fans lapped up the faux dignity, of course. It was like she wore an invisible crown upon her head, and they all worshiped her over it.
I wanted to tear that fucking crown off and throw it in the dark, murky waters of the bay. Wanted to force her to her knees again until she cried and begged for mercy with tears streaming down her pink cheeks. Then everyone would see what she really was—a nasty, pathetic little bitch.
Clenching my jaw, I went back over to my desk and opened my laptop again. I clicked out of my emails and went to the surveillance program I’d hired someone to install on my system a few weeks ago. Through it, I had twenty-four-hour visual access to Alexis’s dorm in Redstone Hall.
I had a copy of her dorm key now as well—people would give you anything at Blackthorne if you showed them that you were a Lockwood—but I didn’t need it to sneak the tiny wireless-transmitting camera into her room. All I had to do was hide it in a bouquet of long-lasting roses and leave it at her door a few weeks ago. A pretty little welcome gift.
She thought it was from her mother, so she took it inside without a second thought.
When I designed the floral arrangement, I had the presence of mind to attach a large bow to the front of the glass container so that Alexis would make the camera face the right way. It worked. Just as I hoped, she positioned it on a table that gave me a perfect view of the whole bedroom. Anytime she was in there, I could live-stream her actions right to my own room.
I sat back in my chair and watched the images flickering on my laptop screen. It looked like Alexis had just stepped out of the shower to grab something from a drawer, because there was a white towel wrapped around her body, and her long dark hair w
as wet and flat. She disappeared out of the frame a moment later, presumably heading back to the bathroom. When she returned, the towel had been replaced with a pale pink robe.
She rubbed something into her damp hair. Then she yawned and picked up her phone before turning to face away from the camera. I squinted, trying to make out what was on her screen. It looked like an email or message folder, but it was hard to make out any detail beyond that.
A moment later, Alexis turned and headed over to the accent table to put the phone down. Then she changed her mind and picked it up again. There was a furtive, guilty expression on her face, and a rosy blush was rising up her chest, throat, and cheeks.
She was so close to the hidden camera now that I could make out the images on her phone screen when she turned to face the other way. When I realized what they were, a zap of shock jolted through me, and I let out a short, stunned bark of laughter.
She was looking at the fake sex tape.
She padded over to her door and stooped to check the lock. Then she slipped out of her silken robe and let it drop to the floor. My cock twitched at the sight. She had an incredible body. Just like one of those vintage pin-up posters, with all the curves and flawless skin.
I swallowed thickly as she moved to her bed and lay down, legs parting. One hand held the phone above her face, while the other traveled between her thighs to rub at her clit in slow circles.
Holy fuck. She was masturbating to a hardcore tape of ‘herself’ getting fucked. That made her a special kind of narcissist.
My upper lip curled in a sneer as I watched her play between her legs. I hated her with such an intensity that I could picture her death by my hand like it was a real memory playing in my mind, but at the same time, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I couldn’t stop my own hands from traveling down to my lap, either, and soon my zipper was undone and my stiff cock was out.
Alexis closed her eyes and threw her head back as one finger dipped inside her pretty pink pussy. A gasp escaped her lips, and the sound sent a frisson of electricity straight to my dick.
I took my length in my hand, giving it a long, slow stroke. Guilt streaked through me, but I told myself there was nothing wrong with jerking off to this. I was twenty and horny as fuck. I knew exactly how warm and wet Alexis’s pussy felt too, and the thought of that feeling along with her taste and scent was driving me fucking wild.
She was the forbidden fruit. Off-limits and tainted with sin. It was completely logical for me to want it. That was how fantasies worked.
As long as it remained a fantasy.
I made her suck my dick during the party a few weeks ago, and then I sneaked into her room and finger-fucked her until she came later that night, but that was as far as it went. I would never fuck her, no matter how tempting it was. Never.
She let out another gasp, followed by a moan. I grunted and pumped my hand around my cock harder and harder, hating myself for the effect she had on me. I was fucking hooked, eyes glued to the screen where her perfect body was trembling, arching, and writhing with ecstasy. Fuck, I wanted to be there so badly. I wanted my hands all over her curves, my tongue on her sweet skin, my cock in her tight pussy.
My body shook as I brought myself to an explosive orgasm only moments later, filling one hand with hot ropes of cum.
Right away, I felt sick with guilt for what I’d done. It was the same story every time I touched myself to the thought or sight of her. Her beauty was nothing but a sinful distraction, and I needed to stop falling for it and concentrate on the task at hand—getting her the fuck off this island.
If I was going to make that happen, I needed to up my game, and I needed to do it fast.
Before it was too late.
11
Alexis
“Order for Alexis?”
I made my way to the front of the bakery. It was a nice little place in the center of Arcadia Bay that made the best damn pastries I’d ever tasted. I’d recently started coming here for lunch every day instead of facing the crowded dining halls and cafés at Blackthorne.
A week and a half had passed since the deepfake video of me went viral, and people still stared at me wherever I went on campus. They didn’t do it in a negative way, because everyone knew the video was fake by now, but it still bothered me. Made me feel like an animal in a zoo. It would be a long time until my notoriety died down, though, so for now, I had to accept that people still saw me as that girl. There was simply nothing I could do about it.
I smiled at the new worker behind the bakery counter as she handed me a brown paper bag. “Thanks,” I said.
There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes—no doubt she saw the video like everyone else in town—but she quickly straightened her shoulders and gave me a pleasant smile. “You’re welcome. Enjoy!”
I turned around and almost bumped right into a person. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
I looked up to see who it was, and a heavy feeling appeared in my stomach as I registered the floppy hair, dimples, and brown eyes. It was Harry.
I hadn’t heard anything from him since I asked for his help when the video went out to everyone. I hadn’t bothered trying to contact him again, either. He’d clearly lost all interest.
“Oh. Hi,” I said stiffly.
He looked surprised to see me, and his feet shuffled slightly backward, as if he couldn’t stand to be within spitting distance of me. “Uh… hey,” he muttered.
It was the most awkward moment I’d ever encountered.
Suddenly I was incensed. This guy acted like he liked me and then ghosted me as soon as something bad happened, even though I swore up and down that I was innocent. I didn’t do anything wrong. He did, and he deserved to feel all the awkwardness for being such an asshole.
“You never replied to my last message,” I said in an acid tone, arching a brow.
Harry frowned. “What?”
“My last message,” I repeated. “I’m sure you remember. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“Uhh… sorry, but I don’t think I got a message from you.”
I narrowed my eyes and pulled out my phone. “Really?” I said, scrolling through our text history right in front of him. “You got all my other messages and replied to them just fine. But not that particular one? How strange.”
Harry lifted his palms. “Look, I’m sorry, Alexis, but I really don’t know what’s going on here. I’ve never texted you before.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. The last time I spoke to you was at that party a month ago.”
I took a step back, eyes widening. “What?”
“I told you to come and find me at my place if your phone was actually broken, so we could stay in touch. But you never did. I figured you weren’t that interested, and then that guy showed up and told me to stay the hell away from you. So I figured there was something going on between you two.”
A sudden coldness bit at my insides. Of course. It all made sense now.
Harry didn’t give me the phone. He didn’t text me, either.
It was Nate.
He saw me talking to Harry and flirting with him at the stoplight party, so he broke my phone by pushing it into that barrel of wine. Then he gifted me a brand new one the next morning and said it was from Harry.
That was why ‘Harry’ never wanted to meet up. That was why he gave me excuse after excuse while acting like he was still interested in chatting. It was just Nate keeping tabs on me.
Even the incident a couple of weeks ago made sense now; when I thought Harry ignored me after seeing me at the café. He did ignore me, because Nate told him to stay away from me. Nate was right there, too, and he saw the whole awkward exchange. He knew I’d wonder what was going on, so he quickly texted me some bullshit excuse from ‘Harry’ about not seeing me because he wasn’t wearing glasses.
“When you say ‘that guy’, I assume you’re talking about Nate Lockwood?” I asked.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. I agreed to stay away fr
om you because…” He trailed off for a second, looking embarrassed. “Well, it’s him. Everyone knows you don’t go against Nate if you know what’s good for you.”
I sighed. “I get it. But I’m not involved with him. He’s just an asshole who won’t leave me alone.”
“Right.”
“Just to be clear,” I said, holding up my phone again. “You didn’t give me this phone, and these texts definitely aren’t from you?”
“That’s right. That’s not even my number.”
My face burned with embarrassment. “Sorry. I honestly thought it was,” I muttered.
“It’s okay.” Harry rubbed his chin and cocked his head slightly to one side. “So Nate—or someone else—has been messaging you for the last few weeks pretending to be me?”
“Yup.” I showed him the last message between us. “This is the last one I sent, thinking it was you. I asked you to help me get that video off the internet, but you didn’t reply. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore because you thought it was real.”
“No way. I wouldn’t have ignored you if you sent me that message,” he said. “I mean, I saw the video. Everyone did. But I always knew it was fake.”
My brows shot up. “How did you know?”
“Well, it looked real, but I knew it couldn’t be you, because when we met, you didn’t seem like a slut. Total opposite. So I figured it had to be a fake.”
Annoyance stabbed at my guts. The whole ‘you didn’t seem like a slut’ comment was throwing up red flags for me. The only guys I’d ever met who spoke like that turned out to be assholes who didn’t see women as nuanced human individuals. To them, women were either ‘good girls’ who were modest, well-behaved, and totally non-sexual, or they were ‘bad’ little jezebels with no morals and active sex lives. They treated them accordingly, too.
