Chapter 1Framed As My Brother's Mistress

Freshman orientation boot camp was running me into the dirt. By the time our squad was given a fifteen-minute breather on the synthetic turf, my muscles were trembling with pure exhaustion. I pulled out my phone and fired off a message to my older brother, Gabriel.

"I never knew signing up for freshman drills meant being broken in like a stray dog. Dearest brother, your sister requires an emergency infusion of iced coffee to survive."

He didn't reply right away. Naturally, I decided to lean into the drama.

"Cold silence? Did some shiny new girl catch your attention out there in the wild?"

That one earned an immediate ping.

"What’s with the constant ‘brother, brother’ whining? Are you laying an egg or something?"

I rolled my eyes, assuming he was just being his usual unhinged, sarcastic self, and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

I had no idea that while I slept that night, my photo, full name, and private text thread were being pinned to the top of our university’s anonymous campus forum.

[Boyfriend left his backup phone with me while away at an executive tech summit, and look what crawled out of the woodwork: a shameless little side-piece who turns out to be an incoming freshman right here on our campus.]

[Not even a week into the semester and already angling for a handout? Did your parents forget to wire your allowance, or are you just so cheap you need to beg married men for an iced latte? Utterly vile.]

The comment section was an open sewer.

" - I’ll throw down two hundred bucks tonight if the latte girl begs that sweet for me."

The original poster replied instantly: "Two hundred? For bargain-bin trash like her? Twenty a round. Ten rounds and she’d pass out cold on the mattress."

A tight, suffocating pressure seized my ribs. My fingers went numb, then icy, as I took screenshot after screenshot, screen-recording every filthy line of text.

She thought she was going to be my sister-in-law?

Over my dead body.

* * *

The second I finished archiving every trace of the post, I dialed Gabriel’s number.

Just three days ago, he’d been overseas finalizing a venture capital deal in biomedical tech. Had his flight touched down early?

The automated operator answered: "The cellular customer you have reached is currently unavailable."

By the time I stepped out of the communal dorm showers, my roommate Grace was staring at my desk with wide, frightened eyes. My screen was lighting up in rapid, violent vibrations.

Dozens of explicit text messages. Over ninety-nine pending friend requests. Every single notification was a barrage of slut-shaming slurs, lewd propositions, and graphic voice notes.

Whoever this senior girl was, she hadn’t just pinned my face to the forum—she had doxed my major, my section, and my exact room number.

My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the towel.

She knew how to dig? Fine. I had resources of my own.

When the afternoon drills wrapped up the following day, Grace shoved her phone into my hands.

"Morgan Foley. Senior. Communications major, department sweetheart. Currently completing her capstone internship at Apex Holdings. Here’s her picture."

Apex Holdings?

Gabriel’s private equity firm. An intern under his own corporate roof.

"Damn you, Gabe," I cursed silently. "Your stray workplace pests are biting me."

I lifted my fingers to type a reply to Grace, but before the first letter registered, an explosion of freezing, milky liquid slammed across my face.

The shock hit me first—the bitter, icy sting against my sunbaked cheeks, ice cubes and sweet cream bouncing off my collarbones. Standing directly over me was a tall, striking girl with salon-curled mahogany waves. Behind her loomed two hulking athletes in varsity jerseys.

She tilted her chin, looking down at me with pure, unadulterated disgust.

Morgan.

"Bridget Ross?" she sneered, her voice carrying across the entire athletic field. "Since you’re so desperate for coffee, consider this one on my tab."

Before I could blink the sticky espresso from my lashes, a second large iced latte was turned completely upside down over my skull.

The cold liquid drenched my hair, plastering wet strands to my forehead. After eight hours marching under ninety-degree heat on zero sleep, the shock made the world tilt on its axis. My ears rang with a deafening hum.

"Start talking," Morgan barked, stepping closer. "How long have you been latching onto Gabriel Langford?"

"Let me make something clear to you, little girl. I am Gabriel’s girlfriend. What kind of home-wrecking parasite crawls into another woman's relationship before syllabus week even starts?"

"Last month, my boyfriend wired you eight thousand dollars! You transfer every single cent back to me right now, or you won’t leave this field in one piece!"

Gasps rippled through the dispersing crowd. Within seconds, a ring of several dozen students had closed around us, their phones raised in unison.

"Wait, isn't that the coffee girl from the forum?"

"God, side-chicks disgust me. Good for the senior."

"Pour another cup over her! Teach her a lesson!"

I dragged my forearm across my stinging eyes, clearing the sticky liquid from my vision, and pulled air deep into my lungs.

"Gabriel Langford is my brother," I rasped, my voice shaking with rage. "My biological brother."

Morgan stared at me for half a heartbeat. Then she threw her head back and let out a sharp, theatrical laugh.

"Oh, sweetheart, at least workshop your lies before you recite them!" she scoffed, playing to the crowd. "My boyfriend’s surname is Langford. Yours is Ross! Do you think everyone here is as stupid as you are?"