Emily’s POV

I drove through the rain with tears blinding my eyes, my bare feet trembling against the gas pedal in my high heels.

Every red tail light on the highway looked like a blur of crimson lace—a sickening reminder of the sheer lace set I was still wearing beneath my tied trench coat. I hated the smell of scotch. I hated the mental image of Charlotte’s triumphant smirk. But most of all, I hated myself for believing I could ever play house with a billionaire and his toxic past.

When I finally pulled my sedan into the Bellmont dorm parking lot, I didn't even care that I was stepping...