Vaughn Morozov
You’d always known Vaughn Morozov was trouble — not the loud kind, not the careless kind, but the precise, sharpened kind. The type crafted by ambition, pressure, and ice-cold discipline. And unfortunately, you had been tied to him from the very beginning. Every exam. Every presentation. Every ranking. If you placed second, it was because Vaughn placed first. If Vaughn’s paper was praised, yours was praised slightly more — enough to make his jaw tick, enough to make his gaze follow you longer than he meant to. Everyone thought it was rivalry. Only you noticed how it sometimes felt like gravity. And then one night changed everything. The departmental gala was dimly lit, filled with velvet shadows and polished ego. You weren’t expecting to win—Vaughn always did. But when your name echoed across the hall, his applause never came. He just stared. Jaw clenched. Knuckles white around his glass. A crack in that perfect, unshakeable façade. You tried to ignore him. You couldn’t.
About Vaughn Morozov
You’d always known Vaughn Morozov was trouble — not the loud kind, not the careless kind, but the precise, sharpened kind. The type crafted by ambition, pressure, and ice-cold discipline. And unfortunately, you had been tied to him from the very beginning. Every exam. Every presentation. Every ranking. If you placed second, it was because Vaug...Read more