VIVIAN
The lights are perfect. Camera flashes pop like champagne, and I can feel every eye in the amphitheater locked on me. This is it. This is the moment I've worked four years to earn.
Valedictorian.
I smooth my hands over the podium, feeling the cool wood beneath my palms. My speech sits in front of me, every word memorized, every pause calculated. I practiced this fifty times. Filmed myself, watched the playback, adjusted my cadence until it landed exactly right.
"Good evening, distinguished faculty, honored guests, fellow graduates." My voice rings clear across the crowd. Strong. Confident. "Four years ago, we walked onto this campus as strangers, uncertain of who we'd become."
Applause ripples through the audience. I smile, let it wash over me. This is what winning feels like.
"Today, we leave as architects of our own futures."
More applause. I catch sight of my mother in the third row, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Sienna sits beside her, beaming. My best friend, always in my corner, always believing I'd make it here.
I don't look for Chase.
I can't think about this morning. Can't think about the ring, the desperate hope in his storm gray eyes, the way his face went blank when I said no. That's not who I am anymore. I'm not the girl who gets trapped by someone else's limitations.
I'm going to Los Angeles. I'm going to be someone.
"We've been told that success requires sacrifice," I continue, hitting my rhythm now. "That ambition means loneliness. That wanting more makes us selfish."
The crowd leans in. I can feel them hanging on every word.
"But I believe we can have it all. We can chase our dreams without apology. We can build empires from nothing. We can—"
Movement catches my eye. Someone's walking up the side steps to the stage. Security should have stopped them, but the figure moves with such certainty that everyone assumes he belongs there.
Chase.
My stomach drops.
He's changed clothes since this morning. Black suit, perfectly tailored, nothing like the thrift store button-downs I've seen him wear for four years. His hair is slicked back, and there's something different in the way he carries himself. Taller. Harder.
Dangerous.
"Chase." I barely whisper his name into the microphone. "What are you—"
He doesn't answer. Just keeps walking toward me with that predatory focus I've never seen on him before. The audience murmurs, confused. Cameras swivel to track him.
"Get off the stage." I try to sound firm, but my voice wavers. "You can't—"
He reaches the podium in three strides. His hand closes around my wrist, and I feel the jolt of it all the way to my spine. Those storm gray eyes lock on mine, and there's nothing soft in them now. Nothing kind.
"You wanted a moment everyone would remember," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "Let me give you one."
Then he turns, pulling me with him, and walks straight toward where Sienna sits in the front row reserved for student council members.
"Chase, stop." I yank at my wrist, but his grip is iron. "What are you doing?"
The audience is standing now, phones out, recording everything. I can hear the buzz of confusion, excitement, scandal. This is going to be everywhere. Every gossip site, every social media feed, every—
Chase stops in front of Sienna.
She looks up at him, confusion flickering across her perfect features. "Chase? What's going on?"
He doesn't answer her either. Just reaches down, pulls her to her feet, and kisses her.
The world stops.
I watch it happen in slow motion. His hand cupping the back of Sienna's head, his mouth on hers, her eyes going wide with shock. The kiss is brutal, claiming, meant to be seen by every single person in this amphitheater.
Meant to be seen by me.
Gasps erupt through the crowd. Someone screams. Cameras flash in a frenzy, capturing every angle, every second of my public humiliation.
My best friend. He's kissing my best friend.
On my graduation day. During my speech. In front of everyone.
I can't move. Can't breathe. My hands shake at my sides, and I'm dimly aware that I'm still standing on stage, still visible to hundreds of people, still being recorded.
This is the moment I've worked four years for, and he's destroying it.
Chase breaks the kiss, stepping back from Sienna. She stumbles, pressing her hand to her mouth, eyes glazed and unfocused. He doesn't look at her. He looks at me.
That smile. Cold. Victorious. Nothing like the boy who proposed this morning.
"Congratulations on your speech, Vivian," he says, voice carrying across the now-silent amphitheater. "I'm sure everyone will remember it."
Then he walks off the stage, hands in his pockets, leaving chaos in his wake.
Security finally moves, shouting, trying to restore order. The dean rushes onto the stage, microphone in hand, attempting to calm the crowd. Students are on their feet, talking over each other, phones still recording.
My mother looks stricken. Faculty members huddle together, whispering frantically.
And Sienna.
Sienna staggers to her feet, face pale as death. Her eyes are wide, unseeing, locked on something the rest of us can't see. Her lips move, forming words I can't hear from here.
"Blood," she whispers, loud enough now that people nearby turn to stare. "So much blood."
She takes a step forward and nearly falls. Someone catches her, but she's not seeing them. She's seeing something else entirely.
"Broken glass. Fire." Her voice rises, panic threading through every syllable. "Vivian, I see—"
Then she collapses.
People rush to her side. My mother screams. Security radios for medical help. The amphitheater erupts into complete pandemonium.
And I stand frozen at the podium, watching my perfect moment shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces.
Chase is already gone.
But as they carry Sienna out on a stretcher, her eyes still glazed and distant, I realize something with bone-deep certainty: this isn't over.
Whatever just started, whatever darkness Chase unleashed when he walked onto this stage, it's only beginning.
And we're all going to bleed for it.