Chapter 75

Rowena

I woke with a start, my heart pounding as the remnants of a nightmare slipped through the cracks of my consciousness. For a few disoriented moments, I simply laid there—staring blankly at the muted sunlight filtering in through my curtains as my mind caught up with reality.

It was only when I reached out blindly, my hand finding nothing but empty space and rumpled sheets beside me, that I realized I was alone now. Eric… where was he?

I bolted upright, casting my gaze wildly around my bedroom for any sign of him. Nothing. He was gone. Had it all just been some awful dream, then? No… no, I could still smell the lingering traces of his cologne on my pillows, could still feel the ghost of his arms wrapped protectively around me.

A quick glance at my clock told me that it had only been a few hours; it was only five o’clock, barely even close to sunset. I guessed I needed the sleep.

Suddenly, the shrill buzz of my phone startled me, and I jumped—my hands fumbling beneath the covers for the device. Emma. With a frown, I swiped to accept the call, lifting it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Rowena! Oh my god, you need to get down to camp right now!” Her voice was higher-pitched than usual in a way that immediately set me on edge. “It’s Eric, he—well, just get here! Now!”

The phone slipped from my fingers before I could respond, clattering to the floor as I shoved the covers aside and leapt to my feet.

I made it to camp in what had to be record time—practically sprinting the entire way, and almost getting hit by a car or two crossing the road. By the time I burst through the doors of the cafeteria building, I was gasping for breath with tendrils of sweat-soaked hair clinging to my flushed face.

But I didn’t care about that.

The cafeteria was in chaos, filled with a crowd of students who I had to shove my way through. Thankfully, Emma materialized at my side, grabbing my hand and dragging me through the throng until we were at the front.

That was when I saw him.

Eric was standing on top of one of the long, rectangular tables—his expression stormy as he called out over the din of the catcalls and jeers being hurled his way.

“Enough!” His voice cut through the noise like a knife. “Dr. Reynolds is a predator—and his story about what happened is twisted and wrong. I have proof.”

My heart stuttered in my chest as my gaze swept over the assembled crowd. Jeers, boos, cries of outrage—that was, until my eyes landed on a slim figure cutting through the crowd toward the table opposite Eric’s.

Heather.

The sight of her filthy sneer made my stomach twist with nausea and dread, that sensation only intensifying when she stepped up onto the table… with Dr. Reynolds at her side, a stark white bandage crossing his pitiful face.

“Everyone, Dr. Reynolds has something to say!” she called out, gesturing for him to speak with a dramatic flourish.

“Oh god,” I murmured, turning toward Emma to steady myself. Her gaze met mine, and I saw her lips move, but her voice was too quiet for me to hear.

Sure enough, Dr. Reynolds turned toward the sea of students with a mask of sadness on his face—bastard. Without preamble, he pointed an accusatory finger toward Eric. “Eric Griffith has been sleeping with his own sister!”

The reaction was instantaneous; a collective gasp ricocheted through the throng of students, followed by hushed murmurs and whispers as hundreds of eyes swiveled between Eric and I. I felt panic clawing at my throat, and I tried to push back toward the door, but it was no use; the crowd was too thick.

This couldn’t be happening… Eric had promised that he would keep me safe.

Heather’s smile was one of pure, vindictive triumph as she drank in the chaos. In that moment, with the weight of so many shocked stares leaving me feeling utterly exposed and raw, all I wanted was to flee. To get away from their prying eyes and disapproving glares.

I turned on my heel, ready to force myself back out of the crowd and toward those double doors and never be seen again—until a strong hand clamped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“Rowena…” Eric’s voice was low and fierce as he tugged me back around to face him. Without another word, he pulled me up onto the table to stand beside him.

“Eric, what are you—”

“Just trust me,” he whispered with a fervent look in his eyes, before cupping his hands around his mouth and turning to face the crowd.

“Dr. Reynolds is a filthy liar!” he shouted over the rising din. “I would never sleep with my own sister! He’s just trying to get away with attempted rape!”

“Where’s this proof you mentioned, then?!” someone shouted in return, the cry quickly being taken up by a chorus of jeers and accusations.

With narrowed eyes, Eric held up his phone and hit send on something. Instantly, a wave of digital tones and chimes filled the air as every phone in the room lit up with an alert. A heavy silence fell over the crowd as students lifted their phones, their expressions growing more and more tense and unsettled with each passing second.

I jumped as a dinging sound came from my own pocket, fishing out my phone with shaking fingers. There was a video file attached to the group message Eric had sent. One that had been labeled, simply: ‘The Truth.’

With trembling fingers, I tapped to play the footage… and gasped at what filled the screen.

It was security camera footage from the infirmary, clearly filmed on the day it had happened. Dr. Reynolds’ predatory gaze was on full display—lingering far too long on my backside as I worked, practically leering at me until his foul intentions became crystal clear.

I watched, stomach churning, as the video captured him circling around behind me while I was sitting at the desk—leaning over me and causing me to move away.

Then, when I stood and tried to go to the door, it happened: he caged me in, dipping his head toward mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw myself turn away, trying to avoid his kiss.

And then... Then came the pivotal moment. His wiry frame shoving me backward, sending surgical tools and supplies clattering to the floor as he loomed over me. His hand grabbing the front of my scrubs.

My eyes went wide, my lips parting around a scream that never came as I fought feebly against his iron grip.

The ashtray connected with a sickening crack, sending Dr. Reynolds staggering back and clutching his profusely bleeding face. And then, just like that, I was fleeing—tearing past him and through the doors like my life depended on it.

My hands shook harder with each passing second, the cellphone rattling precariously in my grip. So this was Eric’s proof... Proof that told my side of the story. Proof that revealed just how twisted and wrong Dr. Reynolds’ lies truly were.

There was a long, stunned silence then—not even Heather and Dr. Reynolds dared to speak because they, too, had just watched the footage.

And they knew what was coming.

The roar of outrage that swept through the crowd was deafening.

“Monster!” someone shouted, their cry being taken up by a flurry of enraged voices.

“Sick fuck!”

“Predator!”

More insults and slurs were hurled toward Dr. Reynolds and Heather, only growing louder and angrier as the reality of the situation began to sink in around them.

Food began to fly through the air, raining down toward the pair. Anger, outrage, sheer unadulterated hatred—it radiated from the furious students in waves, all of them turning on Dr. Reynolds with a vengeance.

I barely had a chance to react before Eric’s hand found mine again, his arm closing around my wait as he lifted me off the table.

“Come on,” he muttered, his voice gruff but his eyes shining with a sense of accomplishment. “Get your friend. Let’s get out of here.”

As the crowd surged toward Heather and Dr. Reynolds, I caught Emma’s wrist, dragging her along behind me. The three of us sprinted out of the cafeteria and didn’t look back.