Chapter 49
Andrea sat at a small desk in the private section of the library, her eyes scanning the dense text of a research journal. Around her, the room was silent, the only sound the faint scratch of her pen as she underlined key points. She used to love this space—it had been her refuge, a place where Damian would sit beside her, challenging her intellect and pushing her to excel.
But now, the space felt empty. Hollow.
Damian still came to the library, but their interactions were no longer the same. He would drop off a stack of documents for her to sort or an errand for her to run. There were no more shared smiles or casual conversations, just his curt instructions and the quiet click of his shoes as he walked away.
Andrea sighed, setting her pen down. The weight of loneliness pressed against her chest like a heavy stone.
Later that afternoon, Damian appeared again, his usual air of cool composure firmly in place.
“I need these organized by category,” he said, handing her a stack of research materials. His tone was brisk, devoid of the warmth she once relied on.
Andrea took the stack, glancing up at him. “Damian, can we—”
“I have a meeting,” he interrupted, already turning away. “Just leave them on the desk when you’re done.”
Her words died in her throat as she watched him walk away.
In her free time, Andrea tried to focus on opportunities that could restore her sense of purpose. She submitted applications for research papers, entered academic competitions, and even sought grants to offset her financial burdens.
But every time she tried, something went wrong.
Her submission forms for one competition were “misplaced” by the administration office. The deadline for a grant she’d applied for was changed without notice. Another time, her paper was disqualified due to a supposed formatting error she’d double-checked multiple times.
At first, Andrea chalked it up to bad luck. But as the setbacks piled up, suspicion began to creep in.
One afternoon, Andrea stood outside the administration office, holding yet another rejection notice in her trembling hands. She overheard two staff members talking inside.
“She’s so desperate to climb back up,” one of them said with a laugh. “It’s almost sad.”
“Well, someone clearly doesn’t want her to succeed,” the other replied. “And honestly, I can’t blame them. A Joker trying to play Queen? It’s ridiculous.”
Andrea’s stomach turned as she stepped back, her face burning with anger and humiliation.
The bullying from other students hadn’t let up, either. Every day, Andrea braced herself for the taunts and jabs that followed her through the hallways.
“Careful, Joker,” someone sneered as she walked to class, sticking out a foot to trip her. Andrea stumbled, barely catching herself before she hit the ground.
Laughter echoed around her as she straightened, her cheeks flaming. She clenched her fists but kept walking, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
In the cafeteria, she overheard whispers that felt like knives.
“She really thought she could stay at the top.”
“She’s nothing now. Just a joke, like her card.”
Andrea sat alone at a corner table, staring at her tray of food. She had lost her appetite weeks ago, but sitting there, pretending to eat, was better than wandering the hallways aimlessly.
One evening, Andrea tried to lose herself in her work, diving into an application for another grant. She stayed late in the library, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she triple-checked every detail.
Her head snapped up at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor nearby. She turned to see a group of students seated a few tables away, their eyes on her as they whispered and laughed.
One of them mimed shuffling cards, holding up an invisible one. “What’d you get, Andrea?” he said loudly, smirking. “Oh wait, I forgot—you don’t get to draw anymore.”
Andrea’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to focus on her work.
By the time she returned to her dorm, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She dropped her bag onto the floor and sank onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
The loneliness was suffocating. The Sinclair brothers, who had once been her allies, were ghosts in her life now. Damian’s indifference, Gabriel’s cold distance, Nathaniel’s betrayal—each one cut deeper than the last.
Andrea reached for the Joker card on her nightstand, running her fingers over its smooth surface. The mocking grin of the card felt like a reflection of her own pain, a reminder of how far she’d fallen.
A knock at her door startled her. Andrea hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was one of the brothers, an olive branch extended after weeks of silence.
But when she opened the door, no one was there.
She stepped into the hallway, her eyes scanning for anyone nearby. At her feet lay a folded piece of paper. She picked it up, her hands trembling as she unfolded it.
The message inside was scrawled in jagged letters:
“Stay in your place, Joker. Or we’ll make you.”
