BENEATH HER LIES

Troy sat alone in his apartment, the footage Serra had sent him playing on repeat. He had watched it at least ten times now. Every glance, every soft moan, every movement between Serra and the older lecturer carved into his brain like a curse. But it wasn't just lust that gripped him, it was betrayal. A twisted chess move he hadn't seen coming.

She had recorded herself seducing the same man Sabrina had cheated with. The man who had started it all.

Serra knew exactly what she was doing.

And Troy realized he had underestimated her.

He had once thought Sabrina was the monster.

Now he knew he was surrounded by devils dressed in beauty.

But if they wanted war, he would give them hell.

No more slow burns. No more hesitation.

It was time to retaliate with precision, with power, and with heat.

Two nights later, the annual fashion department rooftop gala took place, a private university event for the elite creatives and high-performing students. Serra, of course, was at the center of it. She wore a gold backless dress that shimmered under the city lights, her confidence glowing just as bright. Nia was right beside her, soft and understated, but no less guilty.

Troy wasn't invited.

But he didn't need an invitation.

He wore black from head to toe, a sleek jacket, dress pants, and confidence sharper than any blade. He moved through the rooftop like a ghost, unseen at first, until he made sure he was seen.

Serra's eyes found him across the crowd. Her smirk faltered, replaced by something else, curiosity… maybe even fear.

"Troy," she said as he approached, her voice like silk over thorns. "Didn't know you were bold enough to crash."

He stepped closer, towering over her slightly, his smile cruel. "I'm not here for you."

Then, with deliberate ease, he turned his attention to Nia.

She flinched at first but didn't move away. Something in her eyes flickered regret or desire, he couldn't tell. Maybe both.

"Come with me," he said, extending a hand.

Nia looked at Serra for permission. Serra looked away.

That was all Troy needed.

He led Nia through the corridors of the building, down a quiet hallway until they reached a locked suite for the event organizers. He swiped a card he had "borrowed" earlier from one of the tech staff.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, mirrors lining the walls, makeup and designer dresses hanging like ghosts. Nia stepped inside slowly, like she knew this would cost her something.

"I didn't know she was filming," Nia said after a moment. "Serra said it was just to make you jealous."

"You didn't stop her," Troy replied, walking slowly behind her.

"I… I didn't want to lose you," she admitted. "Even if I had to play dirty to keep a piece."

Troy stepped closer, his hands brushing her shoulders, lips just grazing her ear.

"Dirty girls get what they want… until they don't."

He kissed her.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't slow.

It was heat and punishment and power.

She melted into him, her breath shallow, her moans soft, her body pliant.

But just when she thought he'd give her all of him, Troy pulled away.

Nia opened her eyes, flushed and dazed. "Why… why'd you stop?"

"Because this isn't about you," he whispered.

Then he unlocked the door.

Serra was already standing outside.

She hadn't followed quietly.

Of course not.

She had wanted to watch.

"Tired of pretending?" Troy asked her.

Serra walked inside without hesitation, brushing past Nia, who froze like a ghost. Serra didn't look at her. All her focus was on Troy.

"You think you're in control now?" she said coolly.

He smiled. "I don't think. I know."

Their lips met with fire, raw and urgent. Serra clawed at his shirt, and he lifted her onto the counter without breaking the kiss.

The tension between them wasn't just sexual, it was violent. Their chemistry had always been laced with venom, but this? This was nuclear.

She wrapped her legs around him.

He pulled her hair back and whispered, "You like ruining men, don't you?"

"I like watching them burn," she whispered back.

"Then burn with me."

By the time they were done, Serra was breathless, lipstick smudged, her nails still pressed into his skin like she didn't want to let go.

But Troy was already moving away, adjusting his jacket, checking his phone like nothing had happened.

Serra looked at him with a hint of something close to admiration or maybe fear.

"You're different now," she said.

Troy met her eyes, cold and clear.

"No," he said. "I just stopped caring."

The next day, the storm began.

Troy uploaded a masked video to the university's anonymous whistleblower board.

It wasn't porn.

It was exposure.

Clips of Serra exchanging fabricated project scores with the lecturer.

Voice notes of Nia helping students cheat on their exams.

Screenshots, time stamps, evidence.

The university board went into emergency meetings before noon.

By evening, both girls were suspended pending investigation.

Serra posted nothing that day.

Her stories were blank.

Nia tried to text him.

He didn't respond.

Let them drown in silence.

Let them choke on the taste of their own game.

Later that night, Troy was leaving campus when a black Audi pulled up beside him.

The window rolled down slowly.

Sabrina.

Her eyes were darker than he remembered. Her smile, more dangerous.

"You really did it," she said. "I watched them both fall."

He leaned against the car, calm and unreadable. "Did you enjoy the show?"

She tilted her head. "You always had it in you."

Troy narrowed his eyes. "You're not part of this."

Sabrina smirked. "I was the beginning."

He didn't reply. Just got into the passenger seat.

As they drove off into the night, the silence between them wasn't awkward.

It was electric.

The beginning of something darker.