When rumors start to spread, they become weapons in the wrong hands.
Monday morning arrived with the kind of tension that made the air feel heavy.
Ethan noticed it the moment he stepped onto campus. People were staring—not the curious glances from before, but something sharper. More deliberate.
Groups of students huddled together, whispering. A few pointed in his direction. Someone laughed.
His phone buzzed as he walked toward his first class.
Vanessa: Don't go on social media today. Trust me.
Ethan's stomach dropped.
.Ethan: What happened?
Vanessa: I'll explain in person. Meet me at Brew Haven after your morning classes?
Ethan: Yeah. Okay.
He pocketed his phone and kept walking, trying to ignore the stares.
Whatever had happened, it wasn't good.
Economics 201 was worse than usual.
Ethan took his seat in the back row, and immediately felt the shift in atmosphere. The usual pre-class chatter had an edge to it—people kept glancing his way, their conversations dying down when he got close enough to hear.
Marcus Chen sat in the middle section with Blake and a few others. When Ethan walked past, Marcus didn't say anything. He just smiled.
Cold. Calculated. Victorious.
Ethan's hands curled into fists, but he kept walking.
Professor Hartley started the lecture, but Ethan couldn't focus. He kept replaying that smile, Vanessa's warning, the stares in the hallway.
Something had happened over the weekend.
Something bad.
Halfway through class, his phone vibrated silently in his pocket. He risked a quick glance.
A text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Gold digger
Then another.
Unknown: How much is she paying you?
And another.
Unknown: Scholarship trash
Ethan turned his phone off and shoved it back in his pocket.
His jaw was so tight it hurt.
The moment class ended, Ethan was out the door.
He didn't wait around. Didn't make eye contact. Just moved through the hallway as quickly as possible, ignoring the whispers that followed him.
His second class—Introduction to Algorithms—was slightly better. Smaller enrollment, fewer people who cared about campus drama. But even there, he caught a few students looking at their phones, then at him, then whispering to their neighbors.
By the time the class ended at 11:30, Ethan felt like he was walking through a minefield.
He headed straight for Brew Haven.
Vanessa was already there, sitting in the back corner booth, her laptop open but clearly not working. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her usually perfect hair was pulled back in a messy bun.
She looked up when he approached, and her expression crumbled slightly.
"I'm so sorry," she said immediately.
Ethan slid into the seat across from her. "What happened?"
Vanessa turned her laptop toward him. "This."
It was a social media post from an account Ethan didn't recognize. But the content was clear enough.
A photo—taken Saturday night at Harlow's—showed Ethan in his server uniform, talking to Vanessa outside in the alley. The angle made it look intimate, like they were much closer than they actually were.
The caption read: Looks like Silverbrook's Ice Queen has a new charity project. Wonder how much she's paying him to pretend to care?
Below it, the comments were brutal.
She's really scraping the bottom of the barrel now
Poor guy probably thinks he has a chance lmao
This is actually sad. She's clearly using him for attention
Or he's using her for money. Either way, gross
There were over three hundred comments. And climbing.
Ethan stared at the screen, something cold settling in his stomach.
"It gets worse," Vanessa said quietly. She scrolled down to another post—this one with multiple photos. Ethan and Vanessa in Computer Science. Walking together on campus. Sitting at Brew Haven.
Someone had been following them. Documenting them.
"Marcus," Ethan said.
"Probably. Or Madison. Or both." Vanessa closed the laptop. "They created a fake account Saturday night after I left. Started posting yesterday evening. By this morning, half the campus had seen it."
"And they're saying we're..." Ethan couldn't finish the sentence.
"That we're together. Or that you're using me. Or I'm using you. Or both somehow." Vanessa's voice was tight. "The story changes depending on who's telling it, but the conclusion is always the same: we're both pathetic."
Ethan sat back in the booth, processing.
Three hundred comments.
Half the campus.
All because he'd been decent to someone.
"I should've warned you this would happen," Vanessa said, her voice breaking slightly. "I should've—"
"Stop." Ethan's voice was firm. "This isn't your fault."
"Of course it is. If I'd just stayed away from you—"
"Then Marcus would've found some other way to be an asshole. And I'd still be invisible." He met her eyes. "I told you, Vanessa. I don't regret being your friend."
"Even now?"
"Especially now."
Vanessa looked like she might cry. "How are you so calm about this?"
"I'm not calm. I'm furious." Ethan's voice was quiet but intense. "But giving Marcus the satisfaction of seeing me break isn't going to help anyone."
"So what do we do?"
"We do nothing. We keep living our lives. We let them think whatever they want to think." He paused. "Unless you want to distance yourself. I'd understand if—"
"No." Vanessa's response was immediate. "I'm not doing that. I'm not letting them win."
"This is going to get worse before it gets better."
"I know."
"People are going to say terrible things about both of us."
"I know."
"Your reputation—"
"My reputation?" Vanessa laughed—sharp and bitter. "Ethan, my reputation is built on being fake. On smiling for the cameras and saying the right things and never, ever stepping out of line. Maybe it's time that reputation died."
Ethan stared at her. "Are you sure?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway." She reached across the table and took his hand—just for a moment. "We're in this together now. Okay?"
Ethan looked down at their hands, then back at her face.
"Okay," he said.
The rest of the day was a gauntlet.
Between classes, Ethan's phone buzzed constantly—more messages from unknown numbers, all variations of the same cruelty. He blocked them, but more kept coming.
In the cafeteria, people stared openly. A few even took photos.
Someone bumped into him hard enough to spill his water bottle, then apologized with exaggerated sarcasm. "Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there. You're so invisible usually."
Ethan said nothing. Just cleaned up the mess and kept walking.
By the time his last class ended at three, he was exhausted—not physically, but emotionally. The constant vigilance, the weight of being watched, the knowledge that every action would be analyzed and mocked.
He understood now why Vanessa had been so careful for so long.
Living under scrutiny was exhausting.
Vanessa's day was equally brutal.
In her Business Ethics class, someone had scribbled *gold digger* on her desk in permanent marker. The professor didn't notice, but everyone else did.
In the hallway, Madison and Sophie walked past without acknowledging her. When Vanessa tried to make eye contact, Madison looked right through her.
The silent treatment. The oldest weapon in the social arsenal.
At lunch, Vanessa sat alone for the first time in years. She pulled out her laptop and tried to work, but couldn't focus. Every few minutes, someone would walk by and whisper something just loud enough for her to hear.
Desperate
Pathetic
Slumming
By the time three o'clock rolled around, Vanessa had made a decision.
She pulled out her phone and called her father.
"Vanessa." Gregory Monroe's voice was crisp, professional, even with his own daughter. "This is unexpected. Is everything alright?"
"No. Not really."
A pause. "What happened?"
Vanessa took a breath. "There's some... drama. At school. About me. Someone started spreading rumors, and it's gotten out of hand."
"What kind of rumors?"
"That I'm dating someone. Someone not from our... usual social circle."
Another pause, longer this time. "And are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Dating someone."
"No. We're just friends. But that doesn't seem to matter to anyone."
Her father sighed. "Vanessa, you know how these things work. Perception is reality. If people think something is happening, it might as well be happening."
"That's not fair."
"Fair has nothing to do with it. That's just how the world works." His voice softened slightly. "Who is he?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
Vanessa hesitated. "His name is Ethan Cross. He's a scholarship student. Computer Science major. He's brilliant, Dad. Really brilliant."
"Where does his family come from?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Vanessa." Her father's tone held a warning. "Just answer the question."
"He's from here. The city. His father passed away. His mother is sick. He works part-time to support them." She said it all in one breath, defensive. "And before you say anything—"
"I wasn't going to say anything."
That surprised her. "You weren't?"
"I was going to ask if he treats you well."
Vanessa blinked. "What?"
"Does he treat you well? With respect? With kindness?"
"Yes. He does."
"Then that's what matters." Another pause. "I may be a businessman, Vanessa, but I'm your father first. And I've watched you for the past two years become someone I barely recognize. Someone who smiles for the cameras but comes home miserable."
Vanessa felt tears prick her eyes. "Dad—"
"If this boy—Ethan—if he makes you happy, if he sees you for who you actually are, then I don't care what anyone else thinks." His voice was firm. "And if people are spreading rumors about you, there are ways to handle that."
"I don't want you to get involved."
"I'm not talking about me getting involved. I'm talking about you standing your ground." He paused. "You're a Monroe, Vanessa. And Monroes don't back down from a fight."
Something shifted in Vanessa's chest. "I wasn't sure you'd understand."
"I understand more than you think." His voice warmed slightly. "Your mother and I—we didn't come from the same world either. Did I ever tell you that?"
"No."
"Her family thought I was beneath them. Too ambitious. Too rough around the edges. They did everything they could to break us apart." He chuckled. "Obviously, it didn't work."
Vanessa smiled despite herself. "What did you do?"
"I proved them wrong. I worked harder than everyone else, built something they couldn't ignore, and eventually—grudgingly—they accepted me." He paused. "But more importantly, I didn't let them dictate my life. Neither did your mother. We decided we were worth fighting for. And we fought."
"That's what you want me to do? Fight?"
"I want you to decide what you're willing to fight for. And then fight for it with everything you have." His voice was steady. "But whatever you decide, I'm on your side. Always."
Vanessa's tears spilled over. "Thank you, Dad."
"You're welcome. Now go handle your business. And Vanessa?"
"Yeah?"
"Bring this Ethan boy to dinner sometime. I'd like to meet him."
"Dad, we're not dating—"
"Yet. You're not dating yet." She could hear the smile in his voice. "But something tells me that might change."
The call ended, and Vanessa sat there, staring at her phone.
Her father—the Gregory Monroe, the man who'd built an empire on ruthless business practices—was on her side.
She wasn't alone in this.
And neither was Ethan.