Playing Dirty

A slow, knowing smirk spread across Cleo's face. *Vaughn Sinclair.* The sudden realization that this guy lived on Declan's bad side made her eager to get to know him. In her eyes, anyone who opposed Declan and his sycophantic crew was an immediate asset.

She picked up her empty lunchbox. The plastic container felt flimsy in her hands, a pathetic symbol of the conditional kindness she no longer needed. She tossed it into a nearby bin, listening to the hollow thud it made against the bottom. Turning her back on the quiet study tables, she headed deeper into the dusty aisles to search the archives for acupuncture reference materials.

Nolan tracked her movements, his jaw tightening with every step she took away from him. He hated being ignored. Frustrated by her cold, indifferent attitude toward his presence, he marched after her. He stepped directly into her path, aggressively blocking the narrow aisle between the tall bookshelves.

"Did you even hear me?" Nolan demanded, his voice thick with annoyance and a heavy dose of entitlement. "You already angered Declan this morning in the office. Don't go making things worse by poking around where you don't belong and messing with people like Sinclair."

Cleo stopped and looked up at him. In her past life, she would have panicked at his scolding tone. She would have apologized immediately, desperately jumping through endless hoops to appease their fragile egos. She would have bent backward, sacrificing her own dignity just to keep the team's fragile peace intact.

But she was finished playing that pathetic role. She was done catering to cowards.

She met his gaze with an icy, detached expression. "Thanks for delivering the food, Nolan," she said. Her tone was devoid of any warmth, cutting through his self-importance like a surgical blade. She didn't wait for his sputtering reply. She stepped around him, brushing past his shoulder, and dismissed him without a single backward glance.

Nolan stood frozen between the towering shelves. Thrown off by her chilling lack of warmth, he felt unappreciated. He was used to her constant coddling, her desperate need for his approval. Facing this new, impenetrable wall of ice, a dark flush crept up his neck as fierce indignation took over. He scoffed loudly, the harsh sound echoing off the ceiling in the quiet archival space, and stormed out of the room in a resentful rage.

When Cleo eventually returned to her main study spot to gather her scattered notes, she was unsurprised to find the space empty. Nolan was gone, exactly as she expected. She packed her bag methodically, reflecting on his inherently selfish nature. Her mind drifted back to the bitter memories of her past life, recalling how the sycophant had eagerly backstabbed her to gain favor with Maya. He had thrown Cleo under the bus without a second thought, ignoring the massive debt he owed her. When a disastrous lab failure had nearly gotten him expelled from the university, she had been the one to beg the professors for his second chance. She had saved his academic career, and he had repaid her with betrayal.

She swung her heavy backpack over her shoulder and let out a soft, mocking laugh. Let him run. She silently vowed to return every single betrayal, piece by piece, once she secured her diploma.

Meanwhile, hidden in the dark shadows of the corridor outside, a resentful Nolan watched her leave. He saw the way her posture shifted, noting the relaxed, calculated confidence in her stride. She was deliberately dropping that sweet, accommodating act she always wore around the research team. His face lit up with a malicious revelation.

*She has been faking it this whole time,* he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. He would expose her fake persona. He would restore justice for Maya and show everyone how manipulative Cleo really was. Getting this dirt and bringing her down would score him major points with Declan.

Unbothered by his lingering presence in the shadows, Cleo headed straight back to her dormitory. She walked in, moving with brisk, unrelenting purpose. Her roommate looked up from a laptop, clearly startled by her sudden return.

"If anyone comes asking for me," Cleo instructed, her voice steady and flat, "tell them I am sick and admitted to the hospital."

She didn't wait for her roommate to process the lie. She turned on her heel and headed back out into the sprawling campus grounds. Her path led straight away from the towering glass structures of the modern medical facilities and toward Cresthaven’s traditional medicine hospital. It was a quieter, older wing of the university, steeped in history, but right now, it was her ultimate destination. Her target was clear: Beatrix Croft, the university's legendary acupuncture rockstar.

The traditional hospital corridors bustled with a different kind of energy, smelling faintly of dried medicinal herbs and sharp antiseptic. Cleo scanned the moving crowd, her eyes quickly catching sight of a formidable woman in a crisp white coat marching down the hall with unquestionable authority.

Before Cleo could even open her mouth to introduce herself, Beatrix cut her off.

"You are late," Beatrix snapped. She didn't pause her brisk stride for a single second, assuming Cleo was a tardy arrival to her afternoon rounds. "Quickly change and meet me in the treatment room. Move."

Cleo blinked, weighing her options for a fraction of a second, then decided against correcting the misunderstanding. If Beatrix thought she was an intern, she would play the part perfectly. She immediately followed the formidable professor through the heavy swinging double doors.

Inside the quiet changing room, the chaotic, murmuring energy of the main hospital hallway faded away. Cleo slipped into a set of light blue sterile scrubs and moved over to a metal prep table. She found herself working alongside a friendly looking intern whose nametag read Hazel. Together, they began sterilizing a set of long, fine silver needles, laying them out carefully on a clean metal tray.

"Are you a first-timer?" Hazel inquired softly, passing Cleo a fresh batch of needles. "I didn't hear about anyone new joining the rotation today."

Cleo took the needles, keeping her hands remarkably steady. "I am Cleo Abbott. Acupuncture is my second major."

Hazel paused, squinting her eyes as she tried to place the name. "Cleo? I feel like I have heard your name somewhere before."

Before Hazel could connect the dots and recall the wild campus rumors surrounding Cleo's recent drama, Beatrix's sharp, commanding voice cut fiercely through their quiet chatter.

"Stop dawdling!" Beatrix stood in the hallway, her posture rigid. "Get to the treatment room. We have a complex patient case today, and I need assistance. Now."

The moment Beatrix turned her back and marched away down the hall, Hazel leaned in close. She whispered to Cleo, her eyes shining with eager excitement. "Don't let her scare you. The professor is actually cool."

Hazel continued to brag, her voice a rapid, enthusiastic murmur as they finished prepping the final tray. "You hit the jackpot getting in here. An acupuncture internship is an easy ride. There is no tedious grunt work like in the surgical wards. We get excellent pay, and it is a direct fast track to full physician status. You just have to survive her strict lectures."

"There is no need to oversell the department."

A cold, snarky voice interrupted Hazel's boasts. Cleo turned her head sharply. A male student stood leaning casually against the lockers in the corner of the room. He wore a standard surgical mask, hiding the lower half of his face, but his dark, piercing eyes fixed on Cleo with deep skepticism.

He scoffed coldly, crossing his arms over his chest. "The administration never mentioned any new interns," he pointed out, his gaze raking over Cleo's unfamiliar face with blatant suspicion. "If you are lost, you should bail right now before Beatrix actually notices you don't belong here."

Hazel hissed at his unprovoked hostility, swatting the air in his direction. "Vaughn, stop being a jerk."

Cleo froze. The silver needle in her hand went completely still. *Vaughn.* She realized this masked student was indeed Vaughn Sinclair. Declan's fierce academic rival. The guy with the dark, dangerous vibe Nolan had just warned her about in the library.

A sudden thrill of calculated risk-taking shot through her veins. If Vaughn was here, she was staying. There was no way she was leaving now. She opened her mouth to shoot back a defiant response, but the heavy sound of approaching footsteps stopped her.

Beatrix’s voice echoed from the doorway, sharp and unyielding as shattered glass.

"Vaughn has a point," Beatrix said, stepping back into the room. Her piercing gaze locked onto Cleo, sizing her up with rising tension. She delivered a cold ultimatum. "If you are in the wrong place, walk away now. I won't care. But if you choose to stay, know this: I will show no mercy if you flunk the upcoming practical assessment."