Chapter 28
JADE
The slime was in my hair.
In my scalp.
In my soul.
My aunt did her best. Oils. Dish soap. Even vodka. But it was no use.
The moment Shani pulled a clump of half-matted, lemon-glued curls from my scalp, I stood up.
“Cut it off,” I said.
“What?” she blinked.
“All of it.”
“Jade…”
“I’m not asking.”
Her eyes searched mine. And what she saw must’ve silenced the protest, because she nodded slowly, grabbed the scissors, and wrapped a towel around my shoulders.
No one spoke.
Each snip was a war drum.
Each curl hitting the tile a piece of the old me dying.
When she was done, I stared into the mirror. My hair was gone. Just jagged edges around my ears, shorter in the back. Punk rock and uneven. Raw. But somehow… right.
“I look like I survived something,” I said softly.
“Because you did.”
I turned away from the mirror, walked to my phone, and held it in my palm.
Twenty-three missed calls.
Mostly from unknown numbers. A few from Coach Roman. One from a blocked line that made my stomach twist.
But the first one that came in as I stared at the screen… was from Tristan Gold.
I answered.
“You okay?” he asked, no teasing in his voice for once.
“Define okay.”
He sighed. “Look—I’m handling it. Ohio? By the time I’m done, they’ll name the damn school after you.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious. My dad’s legal team is already poking holes in the NDA. We’ll rip their legacy down brick by brick.”
A pause.
“Don’t give up, Jade.”
“I’m not.”
I hung up before I could say more.
I turned the phone off. Not just airplane mode. Off.
No one else got to touch me tonight.
No pity. No apologies.
I stared at myself in the mirror again. My eyes looked different now. Older. Sharper.
My heart? Still cracked. But something stronger was starting to rise from the fault lines.
Not anger.
Not revenge.
Resolve.
“I need a makeover,” I said suddenly.
Shani raised a brow. “Jade, you just—”
“No more nice girl. No more quiet scholarship mouse. This school needs a new ruler.”
She grinned, slowly. “Now you’re talking.”
I looked down at my ruined dress still puddled in the corner. The sticky mess on my once-favorite heels. That girl was gone.
I’d been silenced. Shamed. Humiliated.
But not broken.
Not anymore.
Shani handed me her phone. “Let’s find a new look, Your Majesty.”
I smirked. “This is my school now.”
My voice dropped to a whisper only we could hear.
“It’s my turn to Reign.”
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
Shani had crashed on the couch after force-feeding me ice cream and half a bottle of wine. Aunt Susan was upstairs reading one of her endless Scottish Highlander romances, her cats curled in a ball like sentries at her feet.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Short hair damp from a quick shower. Head pounding. Soul worse.
And then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Not on my window.
On the front door.
I didn’t move. I didn’t have to. I knew that knock. It echoed like a song I hadn’t wanted to remember.
“Jade?” Aunt Susan’s voice drifted down the hall. She peeked in, already halfway in her robe. “He’s here.”
Of course he is.
“I don’t want to see him. Ever.”
She returned ten minutes later, her voice lower. “He won’t leave. He’s pacing on the front lawn. Fists clenched. But he was respectful and didn’t try to push his way inside. I half expected him to.”
I sat up. Slowly. “What did you tell him?”
“That it’s two in the morning and he’s not welcome to disturb my niece’s peace. Politely, of course. Do you want me to call the police?”
“No. Please don’t. The last thing I need tonight is lights, sirens and more hashtags.”
She patted my shoulder and went back up to her room.
My heart pinched. Not because I wanted to see him. But because part of me wished she hadn’t stopped him.
Thud. Crash. Clatter.
The backyard.
I flew to my window just in time to see Leo Holt scaling a stack of overturned flower pots and climbing onto the roof like some unhinged Romeo in Nikes and a sweatshirt.
He landed with a soft thud on the small ledge outside my window.
We stared at each other through the glass.
In another life, I would’ve opened it without thinking. Let him in. Let him kiss me into silence.
But that girl didn’t live here anymore.
I cracked the window an inch. “What the hell are you doing?”
His hair was windswept. His chest rose and fell with adrenaline. His voice was a deep rasp. “I needed to see you.”
“You saw me. Congratulations. Now go.”
He placed his hands on either side of the frame, eyes searching mine. “Don’t do this.”
I laughed. Bitter. Cold. “Do what? Let you in? Let you break me again with that voice and that mouth and that body you use like a weapon?”
“Jade—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You don’t get to say my name like that anymore.”
His jaw flexed.
“You should’ve pushed past my aunt,” I whispered. “That’s what you would’ve done before.”
“She asked me not to,” he said. “I’m not going to disrespect her. I came to talk to you.”
I blinked. “Talk? Now you want to talk? After everything?”
His throat bobbed. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you.”
I held my arms wide, gesturing to the pieces of me. “You didn’t just hurt me, Leo. You left me to be devoured. And when they poured glue and lemonade and who knows what else over my body in front of the entire school—where were you?”
“I was trying to protect you!” he snapped.
“No,” I said softly. “You were trying to protect yourself.”
Silence.
I finally asked the question I’d buried deep under every scab and scar:
“Just tell me one thing. Was any of it real?”
He didn’t flinch.
“My love was real,” he said. “Every second. Every kiss. Every night I held you. It was all real.”
I believed him.
And it broke me even more.
“Then why wasn’t it there when I needed it most?” I whispered.
He looked shattered.
But I was already closing the window.
“It’s over, Leo.”
“Jade—”
“We’re over.”
I slid the pane shut.
And this time, I didn’t watch him climb down.
Because even a broken queen knows when to close the gates.