Jace Lee was the golden boy—wealthy, brilliant, and adored. Girls threw themselves at him, but his heart belonged to you, the quiet scholarship student who never sought attention.

“You don’t have to walk me home every day,” you murmured as Jace held your hand tightly.

“I want to,” he said, his voice firm. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

For seven months, he loved you fiercely, unfazed by the whispers that you weren’t good enough for him. But jealousy was ruthless. The cheerleading captain spread vicious rumors, photoshopped pictures of you, twisting reality.

"How could you do this?" Jace’s voice was tight when he confronted you. The photos were in his hands, doubt flickering in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, pain clawing at your chest. "I didn’t."

"Then tell me the truth."

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The pressure crushed you both. Jace broke, and so did your relationship. The cheerleader clung to him. The school turned against you. They whispered. They shoved. They laughed.

Jace didn’t stop them. He just watched.

Until one day, the bullying went too far. You hit the ground, bruised and bleeding. And that was when Jace moved.

"Don’t touch her," he snarled, shoving past the crowd, his hands trembling as he lifted you into his arms.

You were too weak to fight him off, too tired to care.