Chapter 2Three Kings on My Leash

I had barely shifted my weight to stand when I froze, settling right back into my seat.

[Wait, what’s happening?! Why did the guys change all their account passwords? Ivy can't log in!]

I leaned back, resting my chin on my palm as I watched her with cool amusement. "Well? What's the hold-up, Ivy? Did the thief get cold feet?"

Ivy shot me a furious glare, snapping her head away as she pulled up her contacts.

She dialed the first number. Hung up. She swallowed hard, forcing a bright, strained smile toward the crowd. "He's... probably just in a lecture."

Second call. Hung up.

Third call. Declined instantly.

The color slowly drained from her face. She glared at me with pure hatred, her shoulders tense as she turned awkwardly to make a quick exit.

Suddenly, a guy at the adjacent table shouted, "Holy crap, who’s got fingers that fast?! Someone just posted a video of this whole cafeteria confrontation on the forum!"

Within two minutes, the campus forum exploded.

Ivy had spent her entire freshman year broadcasting the fact that she grew up with the university’s top three golden boys—Matt, Denis, and Conrad. Because of that established narrative, the angry pitchforks on the thread immediately swung toward me.

Seeing the tide turn, Ivy stopped retreating. She sauntered back, taking her seat with an air of delicate, high-nosed disgust.

"Looks like everyone else can see right through you," she said, crossing her arms. "Girls who rely on a pretty face never know how to stay in line. I know you come from some backward, dirt-poor town in the middle of nowhere, Shirley, but being broke doesn't give you an excuse to be a two-timing parasite."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a faux-sympathetic purr. "If you’re really that desperate for cash, I know plenty of wealthy older gentlemen. Sure, they’re a bit up there in age, but they know how to take care of a young girl."

A few gullible bystanders in the cafeteria began snickering, whispering and pointing at me. The commentary grew uglier by the second.

Ivy sat back like a prize-winning rooster, her chin tilted high.

I glanced down at my phone screen, which had just lit up with a notification.

Moments ago, the three private messages I’d dispatched through the forum's back-end system had received their replies.