The morning after changes everything, reality sets in with both its sweetness and its complications.
Ethan woke up Sunday morning to seventeen missed calls.
His phone had been on silent since last night—he'd turned it off after walking Vanessa to her car, too caught up in the haze of what had happened to think about anything else.
Now, staring at his screen in the dim morning light, reality came crashing back.
Twelve calls from an unknown number. Three from Danny at the restaurant. Two from a classmate he barely knew.
And forty-three text messages.
His stomach dropped.
He opened the messages.
Unknown: Saw the picture. You're disgusting.
Unknown: Gold digger confirmed.
Unknown: She's slumming and you're pathetic enough to fall for it.
Unknown: When she dumps you, don't come crying.
On and on they went. Brutal. Relentless.
Then he saw the messages from Danny.
Danny: Kid, you need to call me. Now.
Danny: Ethan, I'm serious. Call me as soon as you get this.
Danny: There's been an incident at the restaurant. We need to talk.
Ethan's hands were shaking as he dialed.
Danny answered on the first ring. "Jesus, Cross. Where have you been?"
"I had my phone off. What happened?"
"Someone vandalized the restaurant last night. Spray painted the windows, slashed the outdoor furniture, broke the sign." Danny's voice was grim. "And they left a message. 'This is what happens when trash gets ideas above their station.'"
Ethan felt like he'd been punched. "What?"
"Campus security called me this morning. They pulled footage from the cameras across the street. It was three kids from Silverbrook. They're trying to identify them now." Danny paused. "Ethan, I need to ask you something. Is this because of you?"
"I... I don't know. Maybe."
"What the hell is going on?"
Ethan sat down heavily on his bed. "There's been some drama at school. With some other students. I filed a harassment complaint against one of them, and—"
"And they retaliated by destroying my restaurant." Danny's voice was tight with anger. "Goddammit, Ethan."
"I'm so sorry. I never thought—"
"I know you didn't. But this is serious. We're talking thousands of dollars in damage. And the owner is furious."
"I'll pay for it. However long it takes, I'll—"
"You can't afford to pay for this, kid. Don't be ridiculous." Danny sighed. "Look, I'm not blaming you. But you need to understand—this is escalating. These people are dangerous."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're poking a hornet's nest with a stick."
Ethan closed his eyes. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
"I believe you. But intentions don't fix broken windows." Danny's voice softened slightly. "Listen, take today off. I'll call you tomorrow about your next shift. Right now, I need to deal with insurance and police reports."
"Danny—"
"It's fine. Just... be careful, alright?"
The call ended.
Ethan sat there, staring at his phone, guilt and anger warring inside him.
This was his fault. Maybe not directly, but the chain of events led straight back to him.
His phone buzzed again. A text from Vanessa.
Vanessa: Good morning. I can't stop smiling.
Vanessa: Last night was perfect.
Vanessa: When can I see you again?
Ethan stared at the messages, his chest tight.
He wanted to tell her about the restaurant, about the vandalism, about how things were spiraling out of control.
But she was happy. For the first time in weeks, genuinely happy.
How could he ruin that?
Ethan: Morning. Last night was amazing.
Ethan: Can we meet later? I need to handle something first.
Vanessa: Everything okay?
Ethan: Yeah. Just some work stuff. I'll explain later.
Vanessa: Okay. Text me when you're free.
He set his phone down and put his head in his hands.
His mother found him like that twenty minutes later.
"Ethan?" She sat beside him on the bed. "What's wrong?"
"The restaurant got vandalized last night. Because of me."
Sarah's expression hardened. "What happened?"
He told her everything—the harassment, the complaint, Marcus's threats, and now the vandalism.
When he finished, his mother was quiet for a long moment.
"This has to stop," she said finally.
"I know."
"No, I mean really stop. These people—they're not going to quit. They're going to keep escalating until someone gets seriously hurt."
"What am I supposed to do? Just roll over and take it?"
"Of course not." Sarah took his hands. "But you need to be smart about this. Going to war with wealthy, connected people—that's not a fight you can win through force."
"Then how do I win?"
"You already are winning. You filed the complaint. You stood your ground. You didn't let them silence you." She squeezed his hands. "But now you need to protect yourself. And that girl—Vanessa. If you care about her, you need to make sure she understands what she's getting into."
"She already knows."
"Does she? Does she know that people are destroying property because of your relationship? That this could get worse before it gets better?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. "I'll tell her."
"Good. Because she deserves to make an informed choice." Sarah's expression softened. "I like her, sweetheart. I really do. But I like you more. And I won't watch you destroy yourself over this."
"I'm not destroying myself."
"Aren't you? You're working yourself to the bone, fighting battles on every front, barely sleeping—" Her voice cracked. "You're my son. My baby. And I can't protect you from this. That terrifies me."
Ethan hugged her. "I'm okay, Mom. I promise."
"You better be. Because if anything happens to you, I'll never forgive myself."
At noon, Ethan met Vanessa at a park halfway between campus and his apartment.
She was waiting on a bench, wearing sunglasses despite the overcast sky. When she saw him, she stood and walked over, her smile bright.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
She leaned up and kissed him—brief and sweet. "I've been wanting to do that all morning."
Despite everything, Ethan smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She took his hand. "So what did you need to talk about?"
Ethan's smile faded. "Can we sit?"
They sat on the bench, and Ethan told her about the restaurant.
Vanessa's expression shifted from confusion to horror to fury in the span of thirty seconds.
"They did what?" she demanded.
"Vandalized Harlow's. Last night, after I left."
"Oh my God, Ethan." She stood, pacing. "This is—this is insane. They can't just—" She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling my father. He knows people at the police department, he can—"
"Vanessa, stop."
"What? Why?"
"Because that's exactly what they want. They want us to react, to escalate, to give them more ammunition."
"So we just do nothing?"
"No. But we have to be smart about this." Ethan stood. "Campus security has footage. The police are involved. Danny's filing a report. The system is working."
"The system is slow. And in the meantime, they're destroying things, threatening you—" Her voice broke. "Ethan, I can't just stand by and watch this happen."
"You're not standing by. You're here. That's enough."
"It's not enough!" Tears spilled down her cheeks. "This is my fault. If I hadn't posted that picture, if I hadn't been so public about us—"
"Don't." Ethan pulled her into his arms. "This is not your fault. This is on them. Only them."
She clung to him, crying into his shoulder. "I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I. But we figure it out together, okay?"
She nodded against his chest.
They stood there for a long time, holding each other, while the world continued its chaos around them.
That evening, Vanessa had dinner with her father as planned.
She'd debated canceling, but Gregory Monroe wasn't someone you canceled on without a very good reason. And "I'm emotionally compromised because I'm falling for a boy and people are trying to destroy his life" didn't seem like it would go over well.
So she showered, changed into appropriate dinner attire, and drove to her father's favorite restaurant.
He was already there when she arrived, sitting at their usual table, reading something on his tablet.
"Vanessa." He stood and kissed her cheek. "You look tired."
"Thanks, Dad."
"I'm not criticizing. I'm observing." He gestured for her to sit. "Rough week?"
"You could say that."
They ordered—her father getting his usual steak, Vanessa opting for salmon—and for a few minutes, they made small talk about school, about her classes, about nothing important.
Then Gregory set down his fork and looked at her directly.
"Tell me about the vandalism."
Vanessa froze. "How do you—"
"I have alerts set for any police reports filed in connection with Silverbrook students. Imagine my surprise when I see that a restaurant where you've been photographed was vandalized last night." His expression was neutral, but his eyes were sharp. "Want to explain that?"
Vanessa took a breath. "Some students at school have been harassing Ethan and me. He filed a complaint. Apparently, they retaliated."
"By destroying property."
"Yes."
"And the police are involved?"
"Yes."
Gregory was quiet for a moment. "These students—they're the same ones from the online harassment?"
"Yes."
"And you're still seeing this boy? Ethan?"
Vanessa lifted her chin. "Yes. I am."
"Despite all this?"
"Because of all this." Her voice was firm. "They're trying to break us apart. I'm not giving them the satisfaction."
Gregory studied her for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he smiled.
"Good."
Vanessa blinked. "What?"
"I said good. I'm glad you're not backing down." He picked up his fork again. "When your mother and I started dating, her family tried everything to split us up. Made my life hell for years. You know what I did?"
"What?"
"I worked harder. Built my company. Proved them wrong at every turn. And eventually, they had to accept that I wasn't going anywhere." He looked at her. "This boy—Ethan. Does he make you happy?"
"Yes."
"Does he treat you well?"
"Better than anyone ever has."
"Then that's all that matters." Gregory paused. "That said, this situation needs to be handled properly. You can't just let these people terrorize you."
"We're working through the proper channels—"
"Proper channels are slow. And bullies don't respond to bureaucracy." Her father pulled out his phone. "Give me the names of the students involved."
"Dad—"
"Vanessa. Names."
She hesitated, then told him. Marcus Chen. Madison Park. Blake Torres.
Gregory typed something into his phone. "Their families?"
"Chen Industries. Park Pharmaceuticals. Torres Real Estate."
"Ah." Something shifted in her father's expression. "Interesting."
"Why is that interesting?"
"Because I do business with all three of those companies. Significant business." He set down his phone. "Leave this with me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing illegal. Nothing unethical. Just... apply a bit of pressure in the right places." He smiled. "You'd be surprised how quickly people's attitudes change when their parents' business interests are at stake."
"Dad, I don't want you to—"
"Too late. This is happening." His voice was firm. "Nobody threatens my daughter. Nobody."
Vanessa felt tears prick her eyes. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. This might get messy before it gets better." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "But you're a Monroe. And Monroes take care of their own."