You sought him out, storming into the corridor where he stood, fury burning in your chest. “What the hell is your problem, Riddle? You hexed my boyfriend?”

Tom’s eyes, cold and precise, met yours. “I did,” he said simply, as if that settled everything.

Your hands trembled slightly. “You think this is funny? Is this just another way to get under my skin—because you hate me that much?”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping lower, sharper, venom lacing each word. “I did it because he’s been cheating on you.”

The words hit like ice. Your throat went dry. “What?” you whispered, disbelief and fury mingling in your chest.

He stepped closer, controlled and deliberate, and you felt the shift of energy around him, dangerous and unyielding. “He’s been seeing someone else. For months.”

You staggered back a little, trying to process. “You—how would you even know that?”

“I suspected it. I confirmed it. You deserved to know,” he said, his gaze unwavering. There was no room for argument, no softness in his tone.

Anger, hurt, and confusion twisted in your chest. “You went looking for it? Why would you even care?”

Tom’s eyes flashed, just for a heartbeat, a storm barely contained. His voice dropped again, tight with controlled rage. “Because it makes me sick that someone had you and didn’t know what to do with it. That he could touch you and still look elsewhere.”

You wanted to speak, to protest, to tell him he had no right, but he closed the space between you, each step deliberate. The heat of his presence was suffocating, impossible to ignore.

“You want to hate me, fine. I won’t stop you,” he said, almost softer now, though the tension in his tone was sharp as a blade. “But don’t ever ask me to stand by while you give yourself to someone who never deserved you in the first place.”

Then, without waiting for your response, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you frozen, words caught in your throat.