Chapter 17
The classroom buzzed with low chatter as students prepared for their literature presentations. Andrea sat at her desk, flipping through her notes, her fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the paper. She wasn’t sure why her hands were shaking—it wasn’t stage fright. No, this was something deeper.
Her presentation had started as a straightforward analysis of Edgar Allan Poe’s themes of obsession and madness. But somewhere along the way, Andrea had followed a trail of references and whispers in the academy’s archives. What she’d uncovered about Emma Lawrence was haunting her.
“Next up, Andrea Riley,” the teacher called, and the room quieted.
Andrea swallowed hard and stood, her notes trembling slightly in her hand. She walked to the front of the room, her sneakers scuffing the polished floor.
“So,” she began, clearing her throat, “I chose to explore how obsession and secrecy can destroy people and relationships, as seen in Poe’s work.”
She glanced up briefly, her eyes flicking to where Victoria was sitting, her smirk barely concealed. Andrea forced herself to focus.
“As I was researching,” she continued, “I found some examples of these themes playing out in real life. One story in particular stood out—Emma Lawrence.”
A hush fell over the room. Even Victoria straightened in her seat, her smirk fading.
Andrea took a deep breath. “Two years ago, Emma was a scholarship student here at Blackthorn. She was bright, ambitious, and… she disappeared. Officially, the story is that she couldn’t handle the pressure and ran away. But there are rumors—”
“Andrea,” the teacher interrupted sharply, his brow furrowed. “This is not relevant to the assignment.”
Andrea’s heart raced, but she nodded quickly. “Right. Sorry. Back to Poe.”
She stumbled through the rest of her presentation, her thoughts elsewhere. What she hadn’t said out loud—the pieces she’d started to put together—was that Emma had been involved with the Sinclair family. And if what she’d found was true, Emma’s disappearance wasn’t just a tragedy. It was a warning.
Later that evening, Andrea sat across from Damien in the library. Their study sessions had become a strange sort of routine, though tonight her focus was nonexistent. She stared at the same page of her textbook for what felt like hours, her mind replaying the presentation over and over.
“Earth to Andrea,” Damien said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
She blinked, startled, and looked up to see him watching her with an amused expression.
“Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “I’m just… distracted.”
Damien leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been distracted a lot lately. Something going on?”
Andrea hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she could tell him.
“It’s nothing,” she said finally, avoiding his gaze.
Damien tilted his head, studying her in that unnervingly precise way he had. “You’re a terrible liar,” he said, his voice soft but firm.
Andrea sighed, setting her pencil down. “It’s just… this thing with Emma. I keep finding pieces, but they don’t add up. And every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it feels like I’m hitting a wall.”
Damien’s expression shifted, a flicker of something almost like concern crossing his face. He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Andrea, if you’re smart, you’ll stop digging.”
She frowned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why does everyone keep saying that? What’s so dangerous about the truth?”
Damien’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “The truth isn’t dangerous. It’s the people who’ll do anything to keep it buried that you need to worry about.”
Andrea stared at him, her chest tightening. There was something in his tone—something she hadn’t heard before.
Before she could respond, a shadow fell over the table.
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Nathaniel said, his voice cool and cutting.
Andrea turned, startled to see Nathaniel standing a few feet away, his expression carefully blank but his eyes flicking between her and Damien.
“Nathaniel,” Damien said flatly, leaning back in his chair. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Nathaniel ignored him, his gaze settling on Andrea. “I thought you’d be more careful about who you spend your time with, Andrea,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.
Andrea bristled, sitting up straighter. “Excuse me?”
Nathaniel smirked faintly, but his words were aimed at Damien. “Family matters are delicate, brother. You wouldn’t want to… complicate things, would you?”
The tension between them was almost unbearable. Damien’s calm facade cracked, his eyes narrowing. “What exactly are you implying, Nathaniel?”
Nathaniel stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You know exactly what I’m implying.”
Andrea felt caught in the middle, her pulse quickening. “Okay, what is going on here?” she demanded, looking between the two of them.
Nathaniel’s gaze flicked back to her, and for a moment, his expression softened. “Just some friendly advice, Andrea,” he said. “Be careful who you trust.”
Damien stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “We’re done here,” he said sharply, grabbing his bag.
Andrea watched him walk away, her stomach twisting.
Nathaniel lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Andrea. “He means well,” he said quietly. “But don’t forget, Andrea—our family’s priorities always come first.”
He turned and left before she could respond, leaving her sitting alone at the table, her thoughts spinning.
Back in her dorm room, Sophie looked up from her laptop as Andrea walked in, her expression immediately concerned.
“Are you okay?” Sophie asked, setting her laptop aside.
Andrea sighed, dropping her bag on the floor. “Do you ever feel like… no matter what you do, you’re always stuck in someone else’s game?”
Sophie tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “Andrea, what happened?”
Andrea flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. “The Sinclairs happened. Again.”
Sophie sighed, pulling her knees to her chest. “You need to be careful with them. All of them. They’ll mess with your head if you let them.”
Andrea didn’t respond, her mind replaying the look in Nathaniel’s eyes, the tension in Damien’s voice.
