Chapter 9: The Apology

Roxanne woke up smiling before she even remembered why.

The party. Laughing until her stomach hurt. The ridiculous argument with Liam over a stolen drink. For the first time since arriving at the academy, her first thought hadn’t been Dorian.

"You’re smiling," Isla said, throwing a pillow at her from across the room. "At nothing. It’s unsettling."

"I’m not smiling."

"You were absolutely smiling. Was it the Moonstone thing? Be honest."

"There is no Moonstone thing," Roxanne said, throwing the pillow back. "I was thinking about breakfast."

Isla grinned like she didn’t believe a word of it, and Roxanne let her have the small victory. The mood stayed light all the way to the main hall.

That was where things started to feel off.

A cluster of students near the entrance went quiet the second Roxanne walked past, and one of them looked away too fast to be casual. Another whispered something behind a raised hand.

"People are still talking about the party," Isla said with a shrug, unbothered.

Roxanne nodded, brushing it off. She had bigger things to worry about than gossip.

She didn’t yet know that Arabella had already started setting something in motion.

It was later that morning, between classes, that Arabella found her alone near the courtyard fountain.

Roxanne tensed immediately. "I don’t have time for this."

"I’m not here to fight." Arabella’s voice was quieter than usual, her posture smaller. "I just want to talk. Please."

Something in her tone gave Roxanne pause. She crossed her arms and waited.

"I wanted to apologize," Arabella said. "Properly. Not like before."

Roxanne said nothing, letting her continue.

"What I did with Dorian was wrong. I was selfish and I hurt you in the worst possible way, and I know you don’t owe me anything. Not forgiveness, not another chance. Nothing."

For a moment, memories surfaced uninvited. Years of friendship. Secrets traded like currency. Promises made when they were fifteen and certain nothing could ever come between them.

It hurt more than Roxanne wanted to admit.

But she hadn’t forgotten what standing in that doorway had felt like.

"I’m glad you understand what you did," Roxanne said carefully. "But that doesn’t mean I want you back in my life."

Something flickered across Arabella’s face, gone almost as fast as it appeared.

"I understand," she said.

Then she kept talking, explaining herself the way people do when they need someone else to carry part of their guilt. She’d been jealous, she said. Roxanne always seemed to have something she didn’t. Dorian made her feel wanted in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

"You could have left me alone," Roxanne said. "You chose to hurt me instead."

Tears welled in Arabella’s eyes, and for one unguarded second, Roxanne almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

"There’s something else you need to know," Arabella said.

Roxanne’s stomach tightened at the shift in her voice.

"I still have the photos," Arabella said. "From before. The ones I took for you to send to Dorian."

The air left Roxanne’s lungs.

Those photographs had been private, taken years ago when trust hadn’t yet become a foreign concept between them, meant for no one but Dorian’s eyes.

"You still have those?"

"Yes."

Roxanne’s stomach dropped straight through the ground.

"I can make them disappear," Arabella said, her voice steady now, all trace of tears gone. "Or I can make sure everyone sees them. The whole academy would talk. Your reputation would be finished. And the Moonstones," she added, watching Roxanne’s face carefully, "would know exactly what kind of girl you really are."

Roxanne felt something cold settle into her chest.

"This was never an apology."

"There are conditions," Arabella continued, ignoring her. "Stay away from Dorian."

Roxanne almost laughed. That part barely registered.

"And stay away from the Moonstones."

There it was.

Roxanne studied her, understanding crystallizing fast. The party. The attention. Liam’s teasing, Kai’s watching, all of it witnessed by half the academy, including Arabella.

"So that’s what this is really about."

"That’s not—"

"You’re jealous," Roxanne said flatly. "You have Dorian. You have exactly what you wanted. And you’re still not satisfied."

Arabella’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

"I’m not going to let you decide who I’m allowed to speak to," Roxanne said.

"You’re making a mistake."

"No," Roxanne said. "You made the mistake. You took something I trusted you with and turned it into a weapon. If you release those photographs, everyone will know exactly what kind of person does something like that. I trusted you with everything, Arabella. You betrayed that. I’m not going to let you shame me into disappearing."

For the first time, Arabella’s pleasant mask cracked completely.

"You always think you’re better than everyone," she snapped.

Roxanne felt oddly calm, standing there in the wreckage of a friendship that clearly hadn’t been real in longer than she’d realized.

"Do whatever you want," she said, turning to leave. "I’m still not leaving."

She didn’t tell Isla right away. Shame kept her quiet through most of the afternoon, guilt curling low in her stomach even though none of this was her fault.

By evening, sitting on her bed while Isla braided her own hair in the mirror, Roxanne finally admitted it.

"Arabella has old photos of me. Private ones. She’s threatening to release them if I don’t stay away from Dorian." She hesitated. "And the Moonstones."

Isla spun around so fast she nearly fell off her chair. "She’s threatening to blackmail you?"

"I told her no."

"Good. We need to report this. This isn’t something you deal with alone."

"I don’t even know if she’s serious," Roxanne said. "Maybe it’s an empty threat."

"Roxanne—"

Her phone buzzed on the desk, cutting Isla off mid-sentence.

Roxanne picked it up, frowning at the unfamiliar number. No name attached. No greeting.

Just an image.

She opened it, and her blood turned to ice.

It was one of the photographs. Exactly as Arabella described.

But the number wasn’t Arabella’s.

Someone else had it too.

"Roxanne?" Isla’s voice sounded far away. "What’s wrong? Your face just went white."

Another message landed before Roxanne could answer.

You have until midnight.

Then, seconds later:

Choose carefully.

Roxanne stared at the screen, her hands going cold.

Not leave Dorian. Not stay away from him.

Choose carefully.

That wasn’t Arabella’s demand. It wasn’t even Arabella’s phrasing.

Someone else was involved. Someone who cared very specifically about the Moonstones, enough to weaponize the same threat with entirely different words.

Isla grabbed her arm. "Who’s texting you?"

"I don’t know," Roxanne whispered, and for the first time all week, fear settled somewhere far deeper than embarrassment.

Across campus, in the quiet of an empty hallway, Arabella stood with her own phone in hand, watching the delivery confirmation appear on her screen.

A slow smile spread across her face.

She typed nothing back. She didn’t need to.

Somewhere in the dark, someone else was already handling the rest.