Page 74 of Starstruck

My heart stopped beating, and silence fell between us.

I swallowed. “What do you mean—”

“You know exactly what I mean, Tristan.”

His face was smug; the evil kind that I knew lived under that sweetmask he sewed onto his face every morning. But there was no way, no way he knew—

“July 12th, a week-long stay in the hospital; is that ringing anybells?”

Oh no. No. No. No.

There was no way Henry could know about what happened that day.

It wasn’t humanly possible. The press didn’t find out, and the hospital agreed to keep quiet; they had to. No, there was no way for him to know that's why I was here.

I simply looked at him, my dead eyes boring into his as my lipsquivered under the weight of the word, “How?”

His smile pulled tight as his head tilted. “My dad isn’t the mostorganised of men, always leaving so many precious documents—”

I pulled my head back. “Dad? What the fuck does your dad have todo with this?”

Something that looked like offence washed over his eyes. “DeanSommerford. My Dad. Did you not brush up on your figureheads before you got here?” Before I could answer, he beat me to it. “Oh, well, I suppose if the only reason you're here is to get clean, then it’s not like you’re a real student anyway; why would you?”

I felt the bile in my stomach bubble, rising up and burning me fromthe inside out. “You don’t know a fucking thing, mate.”

His eyes brightened. “Oh, sure, I do. It was all right there in theletter from your parents explaining why you needed a spot this year—something about you needing to get away from the wrong crowds after… What was it, an overdose?”

I couldn’t breathe, and every time I tried to, I was pushed furtherand further back into the memories from that night. Breathless, alone, inches away from death, and there was not a fucking thing I could do about it. Not a thing I could do to change the past that got me here. I couldn’t un-trust the people who made me like this. I couldn’t turn down whatever shit they were pushing on me. I couldn’t slap myself into realising that the idea of being the person everyone wanted to know was blinding me from the reality I was sinking into.

The one that landed me in the middle of the road in the dead ofnight.

My death bed, if I hadn’t been found.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Henry's voice cut through the air,pulling me back into the reality I was desperate to escape. There was something dark in his tone, something that twisted with pleasure at what he was about to say.

“The next time you see Goldie, you’re going to undo whateverbullshit you’ve told her about me. Tell her I’m a good guy, make it convincing—because if you don’t…” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a hiss, “I’ll tell her why you’re really here. And believe me, once she knows, you'll lose her. And everyone else. You’ll be alone, just like you deserve.”

The threat lingered, more sinister than I could have imagined. Hedidn’t just want control—he wanted me to suffer. To watch everything slip through my fingers. To see me lose everything.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice came out quieter than I wanted,barely masking the disbelief tangled with a hint of desperation. I searched his face, looking for some kind of answer that made sense, but all I saw was the cold gleam in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

Henry’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. He juststood there, watching me squirm under the weight of his threat, like he was savouring it. "Does it matter?" he finally said, tilting his head as if I’d asked something ridiculous. "You just make sure she hears what I want her to hear."

He didn’t need to say it out loud. The look in his eyes, the way herelished this moment—it wasn’t about Goldie, or even what I’d said. He liked this. Liked that he had me cornered, that I couldn’t fight back without losing everything. And the worst part? He knew it too.

Not an ounce of emotion shone on my face as I shook it. “I can’t.”

“And why not?”

“I…”

Henry stepped closer, invading what little space remained betweenus. His voice was low, venomous. “Stay the fuck away from her, or everyone in this place will know what a pathetic little druggy artist you are.”

I flinched. Even though the voices in my head were screaming at mefor being a hypocrite—for letting that word sink its claws into me—I couldn’t help it. The way it hit me, the way it dragged me right back to the person I used to be, scared and cornered, was enough to make my stomach churn. It didn’t matter if Henry saw the crack in my armour; I saw it, and that was enough.

He took a step back, sizing me up with that smug look, like he knewhe had me pinned. And he did. He had the upper hand in ways I couldn’t even begin to untangle. That’s why I couldn’t find the words. Why I couldn’t do anything but stand there, silent, as the weight of his threat settled over me.

He knows that would ruin me; I can see it in his eyes.

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