Page 12 of You Owe Me (21 Rumors #2)

My stomach drops. This isn’t some vague threat or bluff.

Carter’s talking about something very specific, something real.

Something Maverick actually did confide in me about during that terrible period after Pops had his stroke.

The weeks when he was killing himself trying to keep his grandfather’s company afloat while maintaining his own GPA.

“It’s not what you think,” I say automatically, a protective instinct kicking in. “It wasn’t about cheating.”

Carter’s smile widens, knowing he’s hit a nerve. “Exam impersonation is exam impersonation, Ainsley. The university doesn’t care about motivations.”

He’s right, of course. The fact that Maverick did it to save his family’s company rather than out of laziness wouldn’t matter to the academic integrity board.

The fact that he basically created his entire IOU system specifically to have people he could trust for situations exactly like this wouldn’t change the outcome either.

“What exactly do you think you have?” I try to sound casual while my heart hammers in my chest.

Carter swipes to another document. “Names, dates, specific exams. Even the IOUs he issued in exchange.” He turns the phone so I can see, and my blood freezes.

There it is. A photo of one of Maverick’s playing cards with his distinctive handwriting.

“Your boyfriend’s favor network is fascinating.

Instead of money, he trades in obligations.

Very elegant. Very difficult to trace. Until now. ”

He’s right. Maverick burned some bridges last year. Made enemies who would happily provide evidence against him.

“This isn’t just about grades, Ainsley,” Carter continues, his voice almost gentle, as if he’s sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

“This is exam impersonation. It’s not just academic misconduct; it’s fraud.

My father has expelled students for less, and they don’t get accepted anywhere else.

Imagine what this would do to Maverick’s future.

His chances at grad school. His ability to continue running his grandfather’s company with that kind of mark on his record. ”

“You’d lie to your own father?” Though, I’m not really surprised.

“I wouldn’t be lying at all.” He shrugs. “The evidence is real. Maverick did have people take exams for him. The fact that he traded favors instead of cash doesn’t make it any less fraudulent. The university doesn’t accept ‘I was busy running a company’ as an excuse for academic dishonesty.”

He’s right. If the dean discovers that Maverick had exam impersonators, paid with IOUs or otherwise, he’d be expelled immediately.

No appeal. No second chances. His academic career would be over.

No investment firm would hire someone expelled for fraud, and without Maverick at the helm, his grandfather’s company would likely collapse.

“Maverick was doing what he had to do to save his family,” I say, hating how defensive I sound. “His grandfather had just had a stroke. The company was falling apart.”

“A touching story.” Carter’s voice drips with false sympathy. “I’m sure the Academic Integrity Board will find it very moving before they expel him anyway.”

“You’re bluffing,” I say, but we both know I don’t believe that.

“Am I?” He holds up his phone, showing me what appears to be pixelated photos, but they’re clear enough to show someone who definitely isn’t Maverick sitting at a desk with his student ID. “One email sends these and the sworn statements I’ve collected to the Academic Integrity Board.

“Why are you doing this?” I hate the tremor in my voice. “What did Maverick ever do to you?”

“This isn’t personal.” As if that makes it better somehow. “It’s strategic. Maverick has built something impressive, something I want to understand better. You’re my way in.”

“So this is about his business? You want to... what, become the next campus kingpin?”

Carter’s smile broadens. “I prefer to think of it as a natural transition of power. Maverick is graduating soon. Someone needs to fill the vacuum he’ll leave behind.”

“And you think taking me to a gala will accomplish that how, exactly?”

“The gala is just the beginning,” he explains. “A public appearance together sends a message that things are changing. It destabilizes Maverick’s position, makes people question his control. After that, well... there are many ways you could be useful.”

The implication turns my stomach. “This is insane. You’re insane.”

“I’m ambitious,” he corrects, just as he did before. “And I’m offering you a choice. Come to the gala with me, help ease this transition, and everyone benefits. Maverick keeps his academic record clean, and you get connections that could launch your marine biology career.”

“Or?” I prompt, though I already know the answer.

“Or I send this email, along with several others I’ve prepared.

Maverick faces an academic investigation that will, at minimum, prevent him from graduating on time.

And all those poker games Maverick’s been so interested in lately?

Suddenly off-limits when he’s banned from campus activities pending investigation. ”

“You’ve clearly thought this through,” I say, stalling for time. “But aren’t you forgetting something important?”

Carter raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“The part where Maverick finds out about this threat and dismantles your entire life.” I lean closer, dropping my voice. “You think you know him, but you don’t. Not really. You haven’t seen what happens when someone threatens the people he cares about.”

“I’m counting on his reaction,” Carter says with disturbing confidence. “The more aggressive he becomes, the more evidence for my case. A man with his condition shouldn’t be under that kind of stress, should he?”

He knows about the heart condition, too. Of course, he does. This isn’t a hastily assembled plan; it’s a carefully constructed trap, with contingencies for every possible reaction.

I need time. Time to think, to plan, to figure out a counter-strategy. Time that I don’t have if I just refuse outright.

“When is this gala?” I hate myself for even considering it.

“Saturday at 8:00 p.m. I’ll pick you up at 7:30.” He says it with such assurance, as if my agreement is already secured.

“I haven’t said yes,” I remind him.

“But you will.” His confidence is maddening. “Because you care about Maverick more than you care about one uncomfortable evening.”

He’s right, and we both know it. The thought of sacrificing my Saturday night is nothing compared to the potential devastation Carter could unleash on Maverick.

“I need to think about it,” I say finally, buying myself some time. “And I’ll need proof that you’ll actually drop this if I agree.”

“Of course.” Carter reaches into his expensive messenger bag and pulls out a folder, handing it to me. “This is a copy of what I have. Not everything, mind you, but enough to show I’m serious. You agree to the gala, and these copies are yours to destroy. I keep the originals as... insurance.”

I take the folder without opening it, not trusting myself to keep my composure if I actually see the evidence he’s compiled against Maverick.

“You have until tomorrow to decide.” He makes a show of checking his watch. “Though I don’t see why you need the time. We both know what your answer will be.”

“Maybe I need time to plan the perfect way to accidentally spill something on your custom tuxedo.”

He laughs, and the sound is so normal, so human, that for a second, I almost forget he’s essentially blackmailing me. “Wear something blue,” he suggests. “It complements your eyes.”

“I’ll wear whatever I damn well please,” I snap, suddenly furious at his presumption. “If—and that’s a big if—I agree to this, it’s under duress. Don’t pretend this is a date.”

“Call it whatever you want.” He shrugs. “The appearance is what matters.”

With that, he turns and walks away, his posture relaxed as if we just had a pleasant chat about class assignments rather than a thinly veiled blackmail negotiation.

I stand there clutching the folder, feeling sick to my stomach.

What am I supposed to do now? Tell Maverick, whose heart already can’t handle normal stress levels?

Keep it a secret and somehow explain why I’m suddenly attending a formal gala with the guy who’s been stalking me? Neither option seems viable.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from Maverick:

Lunch? I’m at the café near the science building.

Perfect timing, as always. How am I supposed to face him with this folder burning a hole in my bag and Carter’s ultimatum hanging over my head?

I take a deep breath, channeling every bit of acting skill I’ve ever possessed. Just get through lunch without arousing suspicion, then figure out a plan. Maverick reads people like books, but I have one advantage: He trusts me. He won’t be looking for lies because he doesn’t expect them from me.

The thought makes me feel even worse, like I’m betraying him just by considering Carter’s offer, even if it’s to protect him.

But what choice do I have? If Carter shows the dean those IOUs and the evidence of exam impersonation, Maverick’s entire future is at stake.

Not just his reputation or his business, but his actual degree, his ability to ever work in finance again.

I wish Maverick had never told me about those test stand-ins.

At the time, he’d confessed it with a mixture of pragmatism and regret—a necessary evil to keep his grandfather’s company from collapsing while maintaining his academic standing.

He’d been so matter-of-fact about it, explaining how he’d created the IOU system partially to have trusted people for situations exactly like this.

Now that same system might be his downfall.

As I walk toward the café, I shove the folder deep into my backpack, buried beneath textbooks and loose papers.

I plaster on a smile that feels like it might crack my face in half.

This is fine. Everything is fine. I just need to have lunch with my boyfriend while hiding the fact that his nemesis is blackmailing me and threatening his academic future.

No problem at all.