On Monday morning, Victoria was nowhere to be seen. Not once. Not in the halls, not in class, not lurking behind a pack of sneering, red-tied students.
And the same people who had mocked me days ago, the ones who had laughed when Victoria dumped coffee on me, the ones who smirked as I was humiliated in front of the entire student body—moved out of my way.
They stepped aside before I even reached them. Like a school of fish scattering before a shark.
Even when I walked into my first lecture, the room shifted. I didn’t have to fight for a seat, or weave through the room looking for a space that wasn’t deliberately taken.
Instead, people offered me one. The best seat, front and center. I hesitated. But the moment I sat down, the whispers started.
Soft. Careful. Measuring.
I ignored them, focusing on my notebook, but the shift was impossible to unfeel.
Also the girls who had once giggled at my expense were now making awkward attempts to compliment me. I barely acknowledged them. And yet—I couldn’t deny it.
For the first time, relief settled over my shoulders. For the first time, I didn’t have to constantly be on guard, waiting for the next attack.
At least—for now.
By lunch, the weight of my new position had fully settled in.
Sophie and I sat at our usual table, but unlike before, I didn’t feel the constant, pressing stares of judgment. No one made a show of ignoring us. No one glared, whispered, or smirked.
Instead, people watched from a distance. Waiting. Adjusting.
Sophie was grinning as she picked at her salad. "I have to say, this is way more entertaining than I expected."
I shot her a look. "Glad my existential crisis is fun for you."
She laughed, unbothered.
"Andrea, you just shut down one of the most powerful girls in this school, and now everyone is scrambling to figure out how to treat you. Of course I’m enjoying this."
I was mid-eye roll when a figure dropped into the seat across from me like he owned the place. Sophie’s entire body went rigid.
It was Liam. Casual. Relaxed. Like he belonged at our table.
"Afternoon, ladies," he greeted smoothly, flashing a lazy grin as he made himself comfortable. His gaze flicked to Sophie.
Then—he winked.
Sophie froze like she had just been hit with a tranquilizer dart. Her face turned red so fast, I thought she might pass out.
Liam reached into his pocket, pulled out his black card and slid it across the table toward her.
"Mind grabbing us some coffee, sweetheart?" His tone was flippant, like he was so used to being served, the thought of her saying no didn’t even cross his mind.
Sophie shot up so fast I barely had time to react.
"Liam—" I started, my hand darting out to stop her.
But she was already gone, snatching his card and hurrying off, her head ducked as she nearly tripped over herself. I gaped after her.
"What the hell was that?" I snapped, whipping back toward him.
Liam just shrugged, completely unbothered. "She didn’t seem to mind."
"She was practically malfunctioning," I shot back.
"Exactly," he said smoothly, "which means she liked it."
I scowled, already regretting every second of this conversation.
Liam leaned forward slightly, propping an elbow on the table, his smirk never faltering. "How’s the leg?"
"You knew exactly what that meant," I snapped, my voice sharp as I leveled him with a glare.
"Care to elaborate, Queenie?"
"The tie, Sinclair,” I clenched my jaw. “You knew what people would think. You knew the trouble that would cause me."
His lips twitched. "You’re the one who decided to wear it."
"You tied it on me," I shot back, my irritation mounting as I was glaring at him.
He leaned back, stretching out like he had all the time in the world, completely relaxed under my glare.
"You have to admit," he mused, "the outcome worked out perfectly, didn’t it?"
I clenched my jaw.
"Now we’re both in the same suit ‘royalty’," he continued, voice filled with mock amusement. "The King and Queen of Hearts. Perhaps, destined for each other?"
I didn’t even bother hiding my irritation. "Don’t flatter yourself."
His eyes glinted with something mischievous, but when I refused to react, his smirk faltered.
With a dramatic sigh, he tilted his head slightly, as if finally deciding to give up the act.
"Okay, okay—maybe I wasn’t thinking," he admitted. "I just wanted to help a damsel in distress—a rather intriguing one, at that."
I hesitated. It was the closest thing to an actual apology I was going to get. Still, I wasn’t about to let him think that meant anything.
I exhaled slowly, keeping my voice flat, firm, final.
"Let me be clear," I said. "That doesn’t mean there’s ever going to be anything between us."
Liam’s smirk widened again, and now I knew for a fact that he was enjoying this way too much.
"Never say never, Queenie."
I opened my mouth to shut him down again, but before I could, he suddenly stood, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautifully embossed envelope.
I frowned as he placed it on the table theatrically, his smirk still in place.
"Inside is an invitation to a private dinner," he said smoothly. "This Saturday, at the Sinclair’s Seven Oaks estate. Only this semester’s ‘royalty’ will be in attendance."
I opened the envelope, my frown deepening. "And what’s the purpose of this dinner?"
Liam didn’t answer. Instead, he suddenly moved behind me. He leaned in close, his hands bracing against the table on either side of me, caging me in.
His breath brushed against my ear as his voice dropped to a hushed whisper.
"The top of the pyramid needs to build and coordinate plans together. To get along with each other," he murmured, his tone thick with something conspiratorial—something dangerous.
Before I could move—before I could shove him away—his lips pressed a lingering kiss against the curve of my neck.
The warmth of his lips lingered for half a second too long before he pulled away, stepping back just as I whirled around to slap him.
Liam laughed, effortlessly dodging me before walking off, entirely unbothered.
Heat seared into my skin, my breath uneven, my pulse thunderous in my ears. I sat frozen, my fingers pressed against my neck, where the ghost of Liam’s lips still burned like a brand.
It had been barely a second—the soft, lingering brush of his lips against my skin—but it was long enough. Long enough to unravel me.
And then—I saw her. Sophie.
Standing a few feet away. Holding three cups of coffee. Watching me. Her expression was… wrong. Not mad. Not annoyed. Just… unreadable.
The moment she sat down, I rushed to explain, words tripping over themselves in my desperation to shut this down.
But Sophie cut me off.
"You don’t have to justify anything," she said evenly, setting Liam’s coffee in front of me without so much as a blink. "That’s just what the Sinclair brothers do—they take what they want and do whatever they please. Don’t take it seriously."
Her voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. Something not entirely honest. I stared at her, trying to decipher it. But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I should have pushed. Should have asked. Instead, I changed the subject, pulling the embossed envelope from my lap to the bag.
Later that day, the entire student body gathered in the auditorium and the Headmaster Brunswick started to explain the sponsorship system to the new students.
"The sponsorship program," he intoned, "is Blackthorn's way of ensuring that our scholarship students receive proper guidance and support from their more... advantaged peers."
A slow ripple of murmurs spread across the crowd.
"Each sponsor," Brunswick continued, "provides their protégé with a weekly stipend in exchange for academic assistance and other appropriate support services. The exact terms are negotiated privately between parties."
The word "appropriate" hung in the air like smoke, leaving plenty of room for interpretation.
The headmaster continued, his tone warm, as if this was truly some charitable solution. He explained that sponsorships would be formal contracts, that both parties would be able to negotiate terms, that this would create a fairer balance for everyone.
Sophie leaned close to whisper, "Translation: wealthy students get to buy themselves personal servants while pretending it's charity."
I gave her a small smile on it, even though there was no humor in it.