Vicious Secret: A Dark College Romance

Chapter 21

Ibite my bottom lip, focused intently on the chemistry exam in front of me. I don’t allow myself to think of Ben, or the fact that I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. And I refuse to let my thoughts wander to a silver-eyed and silver-tongued devil.

In my peripheral vision, I catch the student next to me angling his body toward me. More specifically, my paper. He glances repeatedly between his exam and mine, his pencil scratching away furiously.

Frustration has me gritting my teeth at his obvious cheating. I shift in my seat to conceal my paper, but that doesn’t work. If it did, this wouldn’t be the second time this guy has copied me.

I clear my throat loudly and cover my answers with my arm. The student pauses, his brow furrowing, before he leans forward even further than before. I shoot him a pointed glare, which he promptly ignores.

With a sigh, I do my best to rush through the test, hoping he’ll be too slow and get the last section wrong. I worked hard last night studying the binary ionic compounds instead of joining Raven and June at a club. Not that it’s my scene, but anything is better than chemistry.

I make a mental note to speak to Professor Ames about this during his office hours. Integrity matters to me. Also, I can’t afford to lose my scholarship because of some random twat waffle cheating off of me.

As soon as I finish the test, I gather my things and give the student one final dirty look. He has the grace to look sheepish, but I don’t care. He’s still a liability.

I place my test on Professor Ames’s desk, avoiding his gaze. Ever since day one, I haven’t been able to look this man in the face. There’s a coldness in his eyes that chills me to the bone, like he’s one manic episode away from becoming a psychopath.

“Wait a moment, Miss Scott.”

His voice stops me cold. I turn back to meet his gaze and immediately regret it. His eyes are bright with anticipation, similar to the way I look at a spider before smashing it. Repeatedly.

He leans forward and lowers his voice. It takes everything inside me to hold my ground and not take a step back.

“I couldn’t help but notice some concerning behavior this morning,” he says. “I’ll be reporting your academic dishonesty to the Integrity Board. Today.”

“What?” I cringe at the volume of my voice. It wasn’t a screech per se, but it wasn’t far off. “I didn’t do anything wrong. He cheated off of me. Today isn’t the first time either.”

Professor Ames tilts his head. “And yet you haven’t mentioned it. This means you were assisting him.” He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “I understand this is upsetting, but we take integrity very seriously here. I suggest you speak with your student advisor as quickly as possible.”

With my mind spinning, I leave the room and head straight to the administration building. My panic over this unjust situation has my stomach tying in knots, and by the time I’m sitting in Mrs. Shipley’s office chair, I’m close to fainting.

“Delilah,” she says, her forehead wrinkling with concern, “what’s wrong?”

It takes me several deep breaths to clear the spots from my vision and to steady my racing pulse. I grip the armrests to ground myself and to keep from falling on the floor.

“I was just accused of cheating during Professor Ames’s exam, which is complete and total horseshit, bullshit, and pigshit.”

The woman delicately clears her throat and tucks a gray strand of hair back into the bun at the base of her head, before adjusting her glasses. In their reflection I can see myself, my expression borders on hysteria. So opposite of her professionalism.

She laces her fingers and sets them on the desk. “Start from the beginning.”

I tell her everything about the other student and my attempts to discourage him from copying. “Now I’m in danger of losing my scholarship. I can’t stay here without it.”

“This is very serious, my dear.”

I cover my face with my hands and groan. “I know.”

“Accusations like this can have severe consequences.”

“I know,” I repeat. I drop my hands into my lap and hang my head. “Is there anything I can do? I mean, there has to be a way to prove my innocence.”

She nods slowly, her gaze narrowing in thought. “Let me look into this.”

After reaching for the phone on her desk, she dials an extension and engages someone in a brief conversation. I watch her like she’s going to disappear if I so much as blink. My heart rate skyrockets again, and I have to concentrate on breathing evenly to avoid passing out.

Mrs. Shipley hangs up the phone. “Professor Ames is willing to reconsider the situation, but he still believes that you are at fault for failing to report the other student. To resolve this issue without escalating it to the Academic Integrity Board, he’s proposing an alternative.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything.”

The woman nods. “Instead of facing a formal investigation, he suggests you sign a contract.”

“What?” I narrow my gaze. “Like a promise to narc on pieces of sh—” When her mouth thins with disapproval, I clear my throat. “What does the contract entail?”

“This would involve you taking on a role as a model student. You would participate in campus events, attend ceremonies, and various university activities left up to the discretion of the Obsidian Order. It’s a way for you to demonstrate your character to your professors, as well as your fellow students.”

I open my mouth, close it, and then try again. “The Obsidian Order… as in the fraternity?”

“Yes, dear. It is our most prestigious foundation on campus. It dates back to before the university was even built.”

“So, this whole ordeal is like a community service thing?”

Mrs. Shipley nods. “In a sense. It’s a good way to show your commitment to the university’s values and prove you’re an asset to the community. Signing this contract would also be an acknowledgement that you understand the seriousness of the situation and are willing to take responsibility for your part in it.”

I fold my arms with a sigh. “I don’t see any other option for me.”

“It’d be in your best interest to do this.”

The older woman shifts her attention to her computer and clicks the mouse before typing for several minutes. Every time she presses a button, my stomach knots a little more. I don’t know what else I can do except go along with this stupid contract. As much as I’d like to tell everyone to kiss my ass, it won’t do me any good.

I silently curse at Professor Ames and the other student. Calling them cockwombles and cumstains almost makes me smile. Almost.

The hum of the printer interrupts my internal barrage of insults. Mrs. Shipley grabs several sheets of paper which has me frowning. How many pages is this contract? After the tenth page, I begin to lament the tree that sacrificed itself on my behalf.

“Here you go,” she says, sliding the stack of papers to me. “Legal documents are very thorough. Read it carefully so you’re fully aware of what you’re committing to. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”

“This is longer than I expected,” I mutter.

I quickly scan the words on the first page. The legalese on the document is mind-numbing. It’s paragraph after paragraph filled with dense language that seems designed to confuse more than inform.

After a few seconds, my eyes glaze over as I try to decipher the tiny font outlining the clauses and obligations in the contract. My academic advisor watches me with a smile, but her attentiveness is a little overwhelming. She’s not rushing me, but my intuition says she wants me to hurry up. I’m sure she has other tasks to complete that don’t include managing my crisis.

“I think I get the gist of it,” I say. “I sign, do my time, and keep my scholarship, right?”

She nods. “That’s the general idea. Make sure to note that your point of contact will be Professor Ames. Unless he appoints a senior to direct you, he’s the one who will reach out with the details of the upcoming events.”

I’m sure that dickhead will have me picking up trash alongside the road just to humiliate me. As long as my duties are nothing unconventional, I’ll handle them just fine. Growing up in the foster care system isn’t for the weak.

I pick up the pen, eyes widening at my shaking fingers. This situation is grossly unfair and pisses me off, but it’s fear that’s wrapping around my hands and making them tremble. I flip to the last page and scrawl my signature across the dotted line before I lose my nerve.

After shoving the document toward Mrs. Shipley, I blow out a breath. Instead of feeling relieved that I’m doing everything to save my future, a sense of doom hovers over me like a raincloud.

She snatches the papers from the desk. Almost like she doesn’t want me to change my mind. “Although you’ll be on probation with Professor Ames for the rest of the semester, your obligations will last for the entire school year. Take this seriously, and you might find it more rewarding than you expect. It’s an honor to be affiliated with the Obsidian Order.”

I get to my feet, shifting my gaze from her face, alight with pride and sophistication, and concentrate on the nameplate on her desk. “Thanks,” I mumble. “Shipley, as in one of the founding families?”

She beams up at me. “That is correct.”

That explains why she’s drinking the kool-aid the fraternity is serving. Too bad she’s snorting it as well.