CHAPTER 107: WORST DAY EVER

The moment Merlina stepped onto the Belford campus, she told herself today would be normal.

She would pretend the weekend hadn’t happened. That her father hadn’t been arrested. That her mother, hadn’t reappeared like a ghost from the grave.

That her roommates didn’t hate her. That nothing in her life had spun so violently out of control.

She would go to class. Keep her head down. Smile if she had to. Act like every other student trying to survive syllabus week.

Except something was wrong.

She felt it the moment she neared the main building. It wasn’t just the cold, though the wind stabbed through her coat like needles. It wasn’t the dull gray sky, heavy with snow that refused to fall.

It was the stillness.

Students were frozen outside the entrance. Standing, staring, not going in. It felt strange.

Then the flashes came.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Cameras.

Dozens of them.

No. More than that.

Reporters in thick coats yelling over one another. TikTok influencers with portable ring lights clipped to their phones. Microphones. Flashing lenses. Phones held up like weapons.

They were all crammed behind the entrance, bodies leaning over stone pillars, eyes sharp, mouths open, circling like vultures who’d smelled fresh blood.

Merlina’s fingers were still wrapped around her dorm keys, halfway out of her bag. Her heart skipped. She didn’t understand what she was seeing.

Then—

"Miss Sanchez!"

"Merlina, over here!"

"Is it true your mother came back from the dead?"

That moment, her blood instantly turned to ice.

What. The. Hell?

"Did your father really try to kill her?"

"Was your mom sleeping with her student?"

"Did she fake her death to avoid jail?"

More cameras.

"Are you dating Craig Lesnar, the brother of your mom’s student lover?"

"Mother and daughter sleeping with billionaire brothers, is this a pattern?"

Merlina’s breath snagged, her knees locked, her brain stalled in disbelief.

No, this wasn’t happening.

A mic slammed against her shoulder. Cameras zoomed into her stunned, makeup-less face.

She flinched. Lifted her hand to shield her eyes. Her ears rang.

"Are you just using Craig for money?"

"Did you sleep your way into the Lesnar family?"

"Are you a gold-digger like your mom?"

Her thoughts cracked open.

How do they know about her ?

Who told them?

How—how do they know everything?

"I—" she tried, but her voice barely made it past her lips.

There was no air. Only noise. A hand brushed her arm. She stumbled back, jerking away, eyes wide.

Flash. Flash.

"That’s her!" a girl with an iPhone shouted. "She’s the one from the video!"

"The video?" Another one asked.

"Craig’s birthday. The dorm hallway. She pulled him into her room."

Right at that moment, her dorm keys slipped from her fingers and skittered down the stone steps.

She bent to grab them, clumsy, shaking, heart hammering in her ears. Her fingers missed the keys the first time. She grabbed them on the second try and shoved forward.

She tried to push through the students. Tried to find a gap. An opening. They didn’t move. They just stared.

Some filmed. Some whispered. Some laughed.

Merlina ducked her head and ran, shoving through the front doors like she was being chased by demons.

Finally she was inside, she could finally breathe. Except, it was quiet. Too quiet, even though it wasn’t empty.

Few students lingered by, eyes on her, phones lowered in their hands, while her chest heaved liked she had run miles.

At least, these ones weren’t recording. That gave her a sense of calm. She just needed to get to class. Just needed to make it through the day.

But—

"...is that her?"

"She looks different. Like tired."

"No wonder Craig dumped Adriana."

"She begged for him. Sent him nudes while dating Louis."

"She’s disgusting."

Merlina’s feet carried her away before her brain caught up. Her hands were shaking. Her skin burned. Her heart splintered with every whisper that was said too loud. As if they didn’t care if she heard.

She turned down the east wing, toward the classroom building, faster now. Eyes avoided. Mouth clamped shut.

Then someone laughed behind her.

Loud and cruel.

"Whore of Belford’s here."

Merlina’s knees nearly gave out.

Whore of what ?

Please God. Just let me get to class.

She reached her lecture hall. Her hand hovered on the door.

Breathe. Just breathe. You can do this. You’ve survived worse. Right?

She opened the door and stepped in.

Just right then, every head turned. Phoebe and Megan sat together. Phoebe met her eyes, expression blank. Megan looked through her. Like Merlina was a stranger. Or worse, like she didn’t matter at all.

Her heart cracked. She felt it. Something deep inside her, breaking. But she shook it off, and took the nearest seat in the back. She didn’t want to cry in front of them. Or anyone.

Just when she thought she was stronger than this, stronger than whatever had been thrown at her earlier, the projector clicked on.

A blurry video filled the screen.

Her hallway. Craig. His birthday. They all came staring at her in HD. Him walking toward her dorm. Her opening the door, in her comfy tees and shorts. He stepped inside. Locked the door.

The video Lizzie had recorded.

No way.

How was that still existing? Craig had made Lizzie delete it. She watched her delete it.

But there it was, playing on the projector for the whole room to see.

Gasps, and whispers erupted. Someone laughed under their breath.

Then—another clip.

Craig’s car.

The footage was grainy, taken from a distance, but there was no mistaking it. Her silhouette in the passenger seat. His beside hers. The window fogged slightly, her face turned toward him.

She was smiling.

Not just any smile. The kind that lit her whole face. The kind you didn’t fake, not even for a secret.

She remembered that moment, it was the night before her dad came, she was nervous and Craig had said something stupid, something sweet. She’d rolled her eyes, bitten back a laugh. She hadn’t even realized someone was watching.

Filming.

She felt it then, her stomach twisting, heat rising to her face. She wanted to disappear. Crawl out of her own skin.

And just when it couldn’t get worse, the classroom door opened.

Adriana walked in.

Like she’d rehearsed it. Like she knew.

Her heels struck the floor like punctuation marks, eyes scanning the room before landing squarely on Merlina.

"Can we take a moment to appreciate the art of having no shame?" she said, loud and clear, walking down the classroom like it was her stage. "Her mom fakes her death, sleeps with a student, and she—well, she follows the family tradition."

Laughter rippled through the room, mingled with low chuckles as phones lifted once more, eager to catch the next wave of humiliation.

Adriana didn’t stop. "I mean, Merlina, did you even like Louis? Or was he just your cover story while you were busy playing sidepiece to Craig?"

Then she stopped right in front of Merlina, gaze unblinking.

"Or maybe," Adriana leaned in, voice dripping with venom, "you knew your mother was alive the whole time. You just milked the tragedy for sympathy. Figured the dead-mother card would get Craig to fall harder, right? Was that the plan?"

Merlina’s breath stilled.

Her ears rang. She stared at Adriana, mouth parting slightly but not to speak, just to breathe, just to survive this public humiliation.

She couldn’t believe anyone could say that. Could think that.

Merlina shook her head, unable to look at Adriana any longer. Her gaze shifted, instinctively, almost desperately, only to find Phoebe and Megan already staring at her.

Their eyes met.

And just like that, they looked away.

Neither said a word.

That silence cut deeper than anything Adriana had said. In that moment, Merlina had never felt more alone.

The classroom felt like a noose tightening around her throat. As if on cue, the door banged open. The Professor strode in with a stack of papers and a raised brow, oblivious or pretending to be.

Conversations snapped shut. Laughter dissolved into silence, like breath caught in a throat.

But the damage had already sunk in, too deep, too loud. Merlina could feel the burn behind her eyes, the sting of tears rising too fast.

She couldn’t stay.

Not anymore.

Her chair scraped back. She rose on unsteady feet, grabbed her bag with trembling hands, and fled toward the door.

Each step felt like running through water, thick with shame and eyes she couldn’t bear to meet.

She didn’t remember the hallway. She didn’t remember the turn. One moment she was drowning, the next—the bathroom door thudded shut behind her.

Merlina staggered to the sink. The farthest one. She gripped the edge like it was the only real thing left. Her hands were shaking. Her chest rose and fell in short, panicked bursts.

She looked up.

The girl in the mirror didn’t look like her.

Eyes swollen, lashes clumped with tears.

She almost laughed.

Not because it was funny, but because she looked so far gone it felt absurd.

Her shoulders slumped. She looked like a disaster. She hadn’t even done her hair properly today. Just threw it into something simple. She just wanted an easy day, but nothing about this day had been easy.

And nothing about the girl in the mirror felt familiar anymore.

And then, her phone buzzed in her bag, she ignored it.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

With trembling hands, she pulled it out.

Melissa:

Mel... you need to see this.

[Link Attached]

Her stomach dropped. She hesitated, but curiosity, dread, and the urge to survive whatever this was made her click it anyway.

TikTok opened.

@DramaByteQueen:

"So here’s the tea on the craziest scandal at Belford right now. Buckle up."

Merlina froze as a video started playing, a TikTok with dramatic music, fast cuts, screen grabs, and a voiceover full of sarcasm.

"First, you have Professor Sanchez. Yes, the one who supposedly died a year ago after falling off the science building. Except plot twist...she’s alive! But get this... she faked her death to escape scandal after her husband caught her sleeping with one of her students. Guess who? Conor Lesnar. Yeah, of the Lesnar billionaire brothers."

"So what does the daughter do? Oh, you’re not ready. The daughter, Merlina, comes to Belford. Dates some guy named Louis, whatever. But behind everyone’s back? She starts screwing Craig Lesnar, Conor’s brother. That’s right. The same Craig who was dating Adriana, Queen Bee of Belford. Now Craig and Adriana are over. Wonder why?"

"So now we have a mother sleeping with one Lesnar, and her daughter sleeping with the other. Rich brothers. Billionaire family. A mother-daughter Lesnar heist? You tell me. #WhoreOfBelford is trending. Y’all better run with this."

Merlina’s jaw locked. Her eyes burned.

The screen changed again—Twitter. A post already racking up reposts and likes:

@SpillTheDormTea:

"Mother fakes death. Daughter fucks her way into the same billionaire family her mom seduced. Are they related or just really dedicated? #WhoreOfBelford #LesnarWhores

Her hand clamped over her mouth as she gasped, but it was no use. Her body crumbled forward. She pressed her forehead to the sink, shoulders shaking.

Every breath felt like it scraped her lungs raw.

There were pictures now—Craig walking into her dorm. The grainy shot of them in his car. More tweets flooded her screen.

"They’re gold diggers, obviously. How convenient that the mom survives a ’murder,’ and her daughter ends up screwing the brother of her student lover. #WhoreofBelford

"A family of whores. They must really want that Lesnar money. #WhoreofBelford"

"I’m hearing there’s another daughter, a younger one, maybe they’re grooming her to go after the father, Charles Lesnar. #WhoreofBelford"

Merlina’s hand clamped over her mouth. She folded forward, forehead pressed to the edge of the sink. Her back shook with each ragged breath. Her whole body trembled, like her bones couldn’t hold her anymore.

This wasn’t gossip.

This wasn’t bullying.

This was a public execution, and everyone had brought a knife.

Her fingers dug into the cold porcelain, like holding on to it might keep her from falling apart. Her vision blurred again.

Not from tears this time, but from sheer disbelief, from exhaustion so deep it carved itself into her lungs. Then, the bathroom door creaked open.

Merlina froze.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe. Her heart pounded so violently.

She heard footsteps. Soft, slow, and hesitant. The door clicked shut behind whoever it was.

Please not Adriana.

Please not anyone.

She blinked and looked up. A figure stood at the entrance of the bathroom, tall, familiar.

Craig.

"Merlina," He looked at her like the world had cracked open.

Like he’d been searching for her in the dark and finally found her breaking. He just stood there, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.