"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Knott," Beverly said as she clambered out of the man's luxury SUV. "And thanks for the tour—your company is amazing."

Mr. Knott smiled at her through the open passenger-side window. "Of course, Beverly, it's no problem at all. I do hope, however, that this causes my company to be high on your list of employer choices."

She couldn't tell him that Griffin hated him, so she just smiled and replied, "It's definitely above McDonald's." He chuckled good-naturedly, and she waved before beginning the trek up to her dorm. If Deb wasn't there, she would have some peace and quiet to study—

"Beverly." She stopped and spun around to find Mr. Knott leaning over the passenger seat, his features twisted in emotional conflict; her stomach dropped. "I realize this will put you in an unfair position, but . . ."

He trailed off, and—for the first time since Beverly had known him—appeared uncertain and perhaps a bit desperate. "Please," he held out an envelope with the name Cynthia scrawled on the front, "give this to her? I want her to have—if nothing else—some form of closure."

Going against every fiber in her being that told her she'd be better off drowning in the lake than taking the letter, she slipped it from his grasp. "No promises," she told him honestly. "If it feels right, then I will."

His smile was sad. "That's all I ask. Thank you, Beverly; regardless of what happens, remember that you always have a place at Silvertone." And then he rolled the window up and drove off, leaving Beverly half-lit by the lampposts, clutching an envelope tightly to her stomach.

God, her calculus homework made more sense then this mess.

Blowing out a weary sigh, Beverly turned and trudged up to her dorm, consumed by her thoughts the whole way.

She'd keep the letter safe, but she'd been telling Mr. Knott the truth; she would only give Cynthia the envelope if it felt right. The last thing she needed was to create her own drama with the woman who had been so kind to her.

Besides, her brain snarked, Griffin will probably hate you regardless of what you do—he despises Mr. Knott.

Shut up.

Opening the door to her dorm, she was pleased to find it empty—at least she'd be able to tuck the note somewhere safe without Deb watching her every movement. Of course, the other girl often went through Beverly's things on a regular basis already; her best bet was to keep the letter near her.

Slipping a folder out of her backpack, she tucked the letter inside, making sure it wouldn't crease before sliding the folder back into the safety of her bag. She rarely let the backpack out of her sight, so it would be safe there.

Giving the backpack a pat before hiding it under her bed, Beverly shifted her attention to her desktop computer. The whole ordeal with Cynthia and Mr. Knott was always bothering her, but tonight was even worse than normal.

She would never even consider reading the letter meant for Cynthia—she had morals, after all—but she was tempted to use the knowledge of the internet. Mr. Knott was well-known, in both their city and the rest of the nation; surely, if there was drama, it would have been publicized.

Pushing aside the voice that told her snooping was wrong, Beverly typed Francis Knott into the search engine, her heart in her throat.

Various news reports greeted her, and she scrolled through several pages before realizing that the search would take forever this way. Whatever had happened between them had occurred several years ago, at least, so she'd need to change her tactic.

Francis Knott and Cynthia Carrol was typed in before she could stop herself, and she hit the Enter button, tapping her nails against her desk impatiently while the results loaded.

A second later, and numerous reports popped up. The first one was titled Billionaire Knott Cuts Ties with His 'Lady Love,' followed by many others with similar titles. Beverly's eyes were caught by one nearest to the bottom, though: Francis Knott Leaves Cynthia Carrol for 'another woman,' Sources Say.

Her cursor hovered over the link, but she paused.

Could she really do this? It was violating any and all trust that Cynthia and Griffin had in her, and for what? To get to the bottom of some drama that wasn't any of her business?

It wasn't worth it.

Scrubbing a hand over her face, she closed the browser window and leaned back in her chair. Her curiosity wasn't satisfied, of course, but if she ever learned about the incident, she wanted to learn about it from Cynthia or Mr. Knott, as opposed to some gossip website.

Feeling marginally better about her morals, she logged off her computer and changed into pajamas, fully intent on getting some decent sleep in the last few days before her finals. Deb's odd hours hadn't changed, so Beverly had to soak in all the shut-eye she could.

Laying back in her bed, she leaned over and plugged her phone into the charger, waiting impatiently as it booted up. Her eyes widened when she saw the many missed calls, texts and voicemails from Griffin. Ignoring the voicemails for the moment, she scrolled through the texts.

Hey. Are you done studying? Was hoping we could go out later, if you'd like.

You okay? Haven't heard from you and am getting worried.

Beverly?

Jesus, you're starting to scare me.

Went by your dorm, but no one was there; I know you don't have classes this week, and I'm seriously starting to freak out. Are you alright?

Beverly?

Shit, Beverly, please pick up.

The other messages were similar, and she was quick to call him. Griffin picked up on the first ring. "Beverly?" The word was rushed and wrought with panic.

"Hi, Griffin." Her own words were weak and filled with shame, but he continued before she could explain herself.

"Thank God! I was terrified; are you alright? What happened?"

And here was the hard part—what was she supposed to tell him? "I'm sorry for not calling you, but I was hanging out with the guy you despise?" Something told her that wouldn't go over well. Then again, it would only be worse if she was caught in a lie later.

Choosing to remain honest, she sent up a prayer for protection and confessed, "I may have gotten caught walking in the sleet storm—"

"What the Hell?! Why didn't you call me?"

"—but I'm totally fine because Mr. Knott picked me up and dropped me back at my dorm; my phone was dead, which was why I didn't call you."

There was a pause, and she could practically see the confusion, hurt, and anger that was no doubt flashing across Griffin's face. "Knott? As in Francis Knott?" His tone was stiff and indecipherable.

"Yes, that's the one. I took shelter in front of his building when the storm started."

Griffin blew out a heavy sigh. "I'm just glad you're okay—I was so worried."

"I thought you might be mad that I was with Mr. Knott," she admitted, her fingers tapping absently against the wall.

There was a light chuckle on the other end of the line, and Beverly relaxed at the familiar sound. "I may not care for Francis, but he made sure you didn't die of hypothermia; it's not your fault you ran into him, either. Besides, I could never really get mad at you."

Mind immediately jumping to the letter for Cynthia tucked away in her bag, Beverly wasn't so sure about that. "Good to know."

There was a beat of silence, before Griffin murmured, "Beverly, I care for you. A lot. You can . . . You can tell me anything, okay? Anything. And you can always ask me for help. Remember that."

Beverly smiled up at her ceiling, no doubt looking like a teen girl whose pop star crush had just spoken to her. "Okay, Griffin; I'll remember that, I promise. And hey, that goes both ways, you know? I care for you a lot, and I'll be here for you, too."

They talked for another hour, and Beverly went to bed with a soft, lovestruck smile on her face.