Nicolette's Perspective
If silence was a currency at Saint Caelus University, I was bankrupt.
My second class was Psychology, held in Building B—a structure of glass and steel that looked more like a corporate headquarters than a place of learning. The air inside smelled of processed cold and expensive perfume. As I walked down the corridor, dodging students who looked like they stepped out of a fashion magazine, I saw her.
Seraphina.
She was leaning against the lockers, surrounded by her court. When her eyes found me, they didn't just look; they dissected. She scanned me from my scuffed sneakers to my messy bun, and with a single, languid roll of her eyes, she dismissed my entire existence.
Arrogant.
Check.
I hurried into the classroom, finding a seat in the back corner. The professor swept in a moment later, a woman with sharp features and even sharper eyes.
"Good morning," she announced, placing a single leather folder on her desk. She didn't write her name on the board. She didn't smile. "I will not introduce myself. You heard my name at the orientation. If you weren't listening, that is your first failure. If you fail to listen in this world, you get eaten."
The room went deadly silent.
"I am a Psychology professor," she continued, her gaze sweeping over us like a searchlight. "Do not be surprised if I can read your thoughts. Facial micro-expressions tell me everything I need to know about your boredom, your fear, and your little secrets."
I swallowed hard, immediately trying to empty my mind. Don't think. Just breathe.
By the time the bell rang for the break, my brain felt like it had been run through a blender. I retreated to the cafeteria, hoping for a moment of peace. I found an empty table near the window and pulled out my packed lunch.
"Hey."
The voice was soft, melodic, and terrifyingly familiar.
I looked up. Seraphina was standing there, holding a bottle of sparkling water like it was a weapon.
"Um... yes?" I stammered, standing up. "Oh, you're the owner's daughter—"
Splash.
The cold liquid hit me before I could finish the sentence. It soaked through my white uniform shirt instantly, turning the fabric translucent and sticking uncomfortably to my skin. The cafeteria went silent. Every eye was on me.
Seraphina smirked, tossing the empty bottle onto my tray.
"You're in my seat," she said simply.
I stood there, water dripping from my chin, shivering not from the cold but from the sheer humiliation. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"This is wrong," I whispered, my voice trembling but audible. "I know I have no rights here. I know who you are. But that doesn't give you the right to treat people like garbage."
I didn't wait for her response. I grabbed my bag and turned on my heel, marching out of the cafeteria before the tears could fall.
What did I ever do to her?
I was polite. I apologized. And yet, she looked at me like I was a disease she needed to cure.
I made it to the locker rooms, frantically searching for my spare shirt, when a familiar voice echoed behind me.
"Bro. Who did this to you?"
I turned to see Maxine Reus leaning against the doorframe, her expression darkening as she took in my soaked state.
"Sorry I wasn't there," Max said, her voice dropping an octave. "My class ran late. I assume the other two aren't here yet?"
I managed a weak smile, wiping my wet face with my sleeve. "It was the owner's daughter. Seraphina."
Max's jaw tightened. "You're in the danger zone, Nic. Seraphina has chosen you as her new toy." She pushed off the wall, walking toward me. "But instead of putting that rag back on, let's try something else. My style."
"What?"
"Wait here."
She disappeared for five minutes and returned with an armful of clothes that looked more expensive than my entire tuition.
"Use these," she commanded.
"Max, that's too much—"
"Consider it a loan. Just put them on."
I sighed but obeyed. I selected a simple ensemble: a fitted black shirt, black trousers, and a sleek, dark coat. When I stepped out, Max let out a low whistle.
"Damn, Nic. You clean up nice. With a little styling, you could give the heartthrobs a run for their money."
We walked back toward the cafeteria, Max flanking me like a bodyguard. The whispers started again, but this time, the tone was different. Less mockery, more curiosity.
"Is that the scholar?"
"Why is she with Maxine?"
"She actually looks... decent."
"Ignore them," Max murmured. "They're just bees. All buzz, no sting."
"Bro!"
We turned to see Johanna and Genevieve waving at us from a table. Johanna's jaw literally dropped when we approached.
"Yow, Nic! I thought you were a transfer student! You look handsome! We need to make you an official member of The Onyx."
Genevieve, looking calm as ever, nodded in agreement. "With a little haircut—maybe a wolf cut—you'd be dangerous. Better looking than that mango."
"Mango?" I asked, confused.
Jo pouted. "She calls me that because of my yellow bag. Rude."
Gen ignored her. "Nic, we know you're on a budget. We can provide the wardrobe. We want to give you a glow-up."
I looked at the three of them—rich, popular, untouchable—and then at myself. "I appreciate it, really. But I'm not a doll. I just want to survive the year, not walk a runway."
They exchanged looks, then shrugged in unison.
"Fair enough," Max said with a grin. "If you change your mind, the offer stands."
We sat down to eat, but the back of my neck prickled. I felt eyes on me. Heavy. Intense. Dangerous.
"She's staring holes into you," Jo whispered, leaning in.
I followed her gaze. Across the room, at the center table reserved for The Ivory, Seraphina was watching me. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't smirking. She was just staring, her eyes dark and unreadable.
"She looks like she wants to eat you alive," Jo muttered.
I turned back to my food, trying to ignore the fact that my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Seraphina's Perspective
I saw her again.
I didn't know why, but the sight of her irritated me. It was a visceral reaction, an itch under my skin I couldn't scratch. She was sitting with The Onyx, looking annoyingly composed in those black clothes.
Why does she look good?
"Ate Sera, you're glaring," Sierra chirped from beside me, picking at her salad. "You're going to burn a hole in that scholar."
I ignored her, gripping my fork tighter.
"Maybe she'll melt," Anastasia added, flipping her hair. "You really should apologize, you know. Throwing water was a bit... dramatic. Even for you."
"Shut up, Stace," I snapped.
"It's a shame, really," Amara mused, resting her chin on her hand as she looked over at Nicolette's table. "She has a nice face. If I were a guy, I'd probably court her."
I whipped my head toward Amara, giving her a look that could freeze hell over.
Amara held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I see the Great Wall of China is up. Message received."
I stood up abruptly, my appetite gone. "I'm leaving."
I stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving the giggling trio behind. Why couldn't they just shut up? And why couldn't I get that girl out of my head?
Marielle Nicolette.
The name played on a loop in my mind during my next lecture. I couldn't focus. The professor's voice was a drone in the background.
"Ms. Sterling?"
I blinked, snapping back to reality. The professor looked concerned. "You've been clutching your head for ten minutes. Are you unwell? You may go to the clinic."
It was the perfect excuse. I put on my best pained expression. "Yes. Migraine. I need to go home."
"Of course," he said quickly, terrified of offending me.
I didn't go to the clinic. I went straight to my driver and demanded to be taken home.
The Sterling mansion was empty, as usual. My father was "busy"—the eternal excuse of absent parents. I went straight to my room, collapsing onto the bed, and let sleep take me.
I woke up hours later to a frantic knocking on my door.
"Who is it?" I groaned, rubbing my eyes.
The door opened, revealing our head housekeeper, Mrs. Presinta. She looked flushed. "Ma'am, sorry to disturb you, but we finally found a personal butler for you! He—I mean, she—is waiting downstairs."
I sighed. Another hire? I'd fired the last three within a week. "Fine. Send them up? No, I'll come down."
I dragged myself out of bed and walked to the top of the grand staircase. Standing in the foyer, looking small against the marble pillars, was the new hire.
She looked up.
I looked down.
The air left the room.
"You?"
We shouted it at the exact same time.
Standing in my living room, wearing a cheap suit and a look of absolute horror... was Nicolette Valderama.