"Eavesdropping on private conversations," he murmured, his voice like a low growl, "is the last thing you should be doing as a guest."
Aiden’s grip tightened, fingers pressing into my throat with bruising force. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, every attempt to pull away met with unyielding resistance.
His face was close—too close—his dark eyes burning with fury barely held in check.
His hold didn’t loosen, not even slightly.
"Or maybe you came here on purpose," he continued, voice dropping lower, like a knife pressing against the skin just before the cut. "Maybe you had a reason to sneak around."
I clawed at his wrist, desperate for air, but his grip was like steel, immovable and merciless. The room blurred at the edges, a terrifying numbness creeping into my limbs.
"If that’s the case," he mused, tilting his head slightly, mocking my struggle, "I know exactly how to deal with little spies like you."
The world started to darken.
"Let her go." But Aiden didn’t move.
His fingers remained locked around my throat, his expression darkening even further as he glared over his shoulder at the voice that had interrupted him.
Nathaniel.
He stood in the hallway, watching us with an eerie calm, his expression betraying no shock, no concern—as if this wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed something like this.
"Aiden," Nathaniel repeated, his voice bored, detached, like he was discussing the weather instead of his brother choking someone against the wall. "Release her."
Still, Aiden didn’t move an inch.
"She probably heard things she shouldn’t have," he snapped, his eyes never leaving mine.
His fingers flexed slightly against my skin, not quite tightening, but making sure I knew he wasn’t done.
"And you didn’t even notice, dear brother." His voice was sharp, biting, filled with something more than just anger. "Just like last time. Just like with Emma fucking Lawrence."
A heavy silence settled over the hallway, thick and suffocating.
Nathaniel’s expression didn’t change. His lack of reaction was more chilling than anything else. Then another voice cut in.
"Aiden, that’s enough."
This time, it was Gabriel. His voice was firm, unwavering, the kind of tone that demanded obedience. Aiden’s jaw tensed, his entire body coiled so tightly he looked ready to snap.
For a few unbearable seconds, I wondered if he was going to ignore the order completely. Then, with a frustrated snarl, he finally let go, shoving away from me roughly.
My body sagged, lungs desperate for air, my vision swimming as I pressed a shaking hand to my neck.
Aiden didn’t look back.
As he stormed down the corridor, Gabriel caught his arm, pulling him back just slightly. They exchanged low, sharp whispers, too quiet for me to hear.
Whatever was said, it made Aiden pause. For the briefest second, he turned, his gaze flickering back to me.
Then, in a flat, insincere tone, he muttered: "Sorry."
It didn’t sound like an apology at all. I barely process what just happened when he was gone. Gabriel hesitated only a moment longer before following him, but not before casting one last glance at me, something unreadable flickering behind his light gray eyes.
I barely noticed because my legs finally gave out. Just a second before I could hit the floor, an arm caught me.
Nathaniel held me like I was nothing, like my weight was inconsequential, his grip firm but devoid of warmth.
I forced myself to breathe through the haze, my voice hoarse as I muttered, "I got lost."
Nathaniel didn’t react.
"I was looking for someone," I continued, desperate to steady my voice, to regain control. "I heard your voice and just followed the sound."
I expected him to demand answers, to accuse me of spying, but instead, he just nodded once, as if none of this surprised him.
"Perhaps now you are aware," he said smoothly, unbothered, "that wandering through unfamiliar places can be dangerous."
His fingers dragged lightly along my neck, just below my jaw—a touch so subtle, yet undeniably possessive, a deliberate reminder of where Aiden’s hand had been just moments ago.
"Aiden has a heavy hand," he murmured, almost amused. "I expect you’ll have bruises by morning."
I tensed, the heat of humiliation burning beneath my skin. Still shaken, I pulled back and forced a quick, breathless ‘thank you’, though I wasn’t sure if I meant it.
Nathaniel’s expression didn’t change.
"I thought he would kill me," I admitted quietly, barely above a whisper.
His eyes didn’t waver. "He could have."
There was no sympathy in his voice. No comfort. Just a simple, absolute truth. Then, without another word, he turned and started walking away.
"Follow me," he ordered. And I had no choice but to obey.
* * *
The dining table was long, imposing, designed for power plays, and I was the only one without a hand in the game.
Nathaniel’s introduction was formal, precise, stripped of anything but fact—I was now another Queen on a board, a new member of the Student Council, a piece on the board whether I wanted to be or not.
The reaction was swift but telling.
Lilibet and Gia, both upper-year students, barely acknowledged me, their carefully poised expressions unreadable. They weren’t impressed. They weren’t interested. I was beneath them.
Madison, the only other Queen from my year, didn’t bother with the subtlety. She leaned away from me, her mouth curled in something just short of a sneer, making it painfully clear that I wasn’t welcome.
Meanwhile, the Sinclair brothers—except for Aiden—sat at ease among them, exchanging private jokes and unspoken glances, completely at home in this world.
And I? I was a visitor in enemy territory. The conversation was already in motion when I forced myself to listen.
Plans. The expectations for the semester. The Student Council wasn’t just a title—it was a system of control.
"We’ll be finalizing the sponsorships this week," Gia said coolly, sipping from her wine glass. "I assume you’ll be taking care of the numbers, Lily?"
"Naturally.” Lilibet gave a small nod. “We need to ensure the right balance—contract students aren’t just throwing their money around. The pairings should be strategic."
Strategic. Meaning the scholarships weren’t just about funding. They were about ownership.
Then, the conversation shifted.
To past Jokers. To the ‘fun’ they had at their expense. To the ‘pranks’ that were played on them.
I clenched my jaw.
They were talking about humiliating someone. Destroying someone. They were talking about it like a game. Like it was tradition. Like it was expected.
I snapped.
"You’re talking about people," I said sharply, my voice cutting through the air. "Real people."
The table fell silent. Then, Gia, confident and completely relaxed, leaned forward with a smirk.
"Relax, Queenie," she purred. "This is just how the world works. The strong eat the weak. You can’t change that. So instead of worrying about things you can’t control, why not just enjoy the game?"
Lilibet, colder, more calculating, added in an icy tone:
"That’s exactly why the game exists—to teach people like you where they belong. If you don’t like it, fine—just don’t get in our way."
Madison scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
"Victoria knew how to have fun," she muttered. "She should be sitting here instead of you."
I gritted my teeth, fingers tightening into fists beneath the table.
The tension stretched, unbearable until Liam, ever the peacemaker, smiled lazily and said:
"Andrea still hasn’t chosen a sponsor, right?" Then, flashing his most charming grin, he turned to me. "Then I’ll be the first to offer."
Before I could react, the other Sinclair brothers spoke up. Each one making their own claim. And that’s when I realized—I was never going to get a choice.
Because the Sinclairs always get what they want. And now—they all wanted me?