SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

His voice was soft, and silky when he said it“Date me.”

Two words.

One smirk.

And just like that, Lucien Knox Ravenscroft had flipped my world upside down— all over again.

All of a sudden, the hall became quiet; it already was, but for some reason, it was like all I could sense was the fact that it was just us two in this part of the school, something that had never happened.

Lucien stood in front of me, commanding my attention; his aura always called for everyone, every living thing to him.

The aura of a Ravenscroft.

He looks me dead in the eye, his blue orbs not once straying from mine, as he awaits my response.

I blinked once, twice. “What the hell did you just say?” Asking just to be sure I heard him right, and not imagining things.

Did the king of the school and practically all of America and Europe ask me to fake date him?

Me?

The daughter of the help?

The charity case of the school?

The girl he had dumped a bottle of expired milk all over because I had dared to walk past him, brushing hands with his shoulder by mistake.

It was an accident. I had been rushing to class, intent on ensuring my record clean sheet was kept in this school, especially because I had to work as hard based on my scholarship status.

The rich kids always have to be excellent, or it's a teacher's job and legacy on the line. The memory of what happened to Miss Blaine six months ago comes to mind.

She had failed a paper, thinking it was one of the scholarship kids, but unknown to her, it was Lucien's.

Not even twenty-four hours later, she had been blacklisted, fired, and cast out of the school and any reasonable job in the country, and all of Europe.

He leaned down, breath brushing my cheek. “Fake date me, scholarship girl. You want to make him jealous. I want to ruin her. You hate them both. I hate being bored.”

My hands tightened around my books. “You’re insane.”

He grinned, slow and wicked. “Takes one to know one.”

All of a sudden, the once-dead hall becomes alive with chatter, the voices of students and their hushed whispers filling the hallway, lighting the place.

We're no longer alone.

"Let me go," I whisper, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Everyone's eyes were on me.

Over a hundred eyes, as well as those probably already filming, saw the sight of the school's golden boy, the king of Ravenscroft, and the scholarship girl, the daughter of the help, in such proximity.

The horror.

I could feel Matt staring, too, or more like he was gawking, but instead of Lucien moving farther away, he leaned closer.

After two years of pretending I wasn’t more than a wallflower, I knew Matt’s eyes would not move from me, especially in this position.

After years of him treating me like he couldn't see my stares of longing, my affection, every time I made myself available to him for whatever he needed, even if it would be at my detriment, because all I’d hoped for was that he would once, finally, notice me.

The girl he almost turned into a spectacle amongst his other rich friends.

I once blamed my status on it, thinking that if I had been rich, he would at least like me, at least treat me like a girl, and not one of the bros.

Lucien looked down at me with eyes like frostbite and wildfire, blue and burning.

“You in or not?” he asked, still smirking.

I didn’t answer.

Not then.

Taking a chance into my hand, and praying to God that it would work, I duck under his arm, and rush out of the hall like my feet are on fire, escaping the eyes of every student there.

And especially, Lucien.

That night, as I lay in my bed, a memory came to me, one I cherished close to my heart.

When I was nine, Matt taught me how to ride a bike. The memory of my screeches and squeals in the air as he held onto the handle of the bike with me, his knowledge of my fear palpable to him as he guided me. I remember falling when I got too scared, thinking he was still holding the handle, only to realise he wasn't anymore. With a scream, I had fallen, calling out his name.

Not that of my dad.

Or my grandfather, but his.

I scraped my knees, and he kissed them better.

I fell, and he caught me.

He told me I'd always have him.

I believed him.

Now I wonder if the devil tells bedtime stories too, after all, so did Matt.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING.

I found him by the east library balcony, leaning against the railing like he was posing for a damn photoshoot. One arm slung lazily over the edge, the other bringing a black flask to his lips. The wind tousled his golden hair just enough to make him look sinful.

It should be a crime for anyone to look that good, to have such good form, such a good body, such a handsome face.

No.

A face out of this world.

I wanted to hate him, I'm supposed to hate him, but instead, I wanted to touch him.

Even if it burned.

“You serious about earlier?” I asked, still refusing to believe that he was telling the truth.

Lucien didn’t look at me at first. Just took another sip. “I don’t joke.”

I folded my arms, standing stiff at the edge of his orbit. “You humiliated me in front of the entire school.”

“You could humiliate him,” Lucien says, finally turning. “Trust me, he could be the one bleeding by the time you're done with him.”

I hated how calm he sounded. Like this was just another Tuesday night for him, like ruining reputations and playing puppet master in his daddy’s kingdom, a kingdom his father carved out for his only son; placing the king and his servants in the same place was a sport.

For one goal.

To remind us all that he is our kind, and the rest of us, we're peasants, and we must kiss the fucking ring.

“I’m not your toy,” I said, trying to sound defiant and not afraid. Trying to hide how much he affects me.

He stepped closer, making me inhale his scent again, the rich, luxurious smell of his musky cologne wafts in my senses, making me see only him.

. “No. You’re my co-conspirator.” He corrects.

I stared up at him, the night air thick between us. “Why me?”

Lucien tilted his head, studying me like I was a riddle, or a puzzle he planned to dismantle.

“Because you’re the only one who has nothing left to lose,” he said.

His words landed like a slap.

Sharp. Personal. True.

I swallowed hard. “And what do you get out of this?”

His smile returned—slow, dark, and looking delicious. “Roxanne. Watching me ‘fall’ for the scholarship girl will make her spiral.”

My lips twitched. “That’s twisted.”

“That’s strategy,” he replied. “And it works.”

I stepped back. “So I’m just a tool.”

“You’re the tool,” he said, with a spark in his eye. “Sharp. Useful. Dangerous.”

The worst part? I didn’t not like hearing that.

Lucien leaned in again, lowering his voice like a secret meant just for me.

“If he notices you again, I'll help you destroy her.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I asked.

His gaze burned. “Then you’re mine.”

The air caught in my lungs.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare show him how much those words wrecked something in me.

But he saw it.

Of course he did.

Lucien Knox Ravenscroft didn’t miss things. He devoured them.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I said, voice barely steady.

“No rush,” he whispered. “But every second you wait, they win.”

He turned to leave, like the conversation didn’t gut me. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder one last time.

“Fire looks good on you, Sloane."

---------------------------

Walking down to aerobics class, a voice stops me in my tracks.

It's Matt's and Roxanne's; the sight of two of them sends a dagger to my heart, the blow unrelenting, strong, and painful.

I saw Matt’s face.

His arm was around her waist as they snickered at something.

"Really? Is she that pathetic?" Roxanne asks, a smirk on her face as she holds a condescending twitch in her eye.

"Yes, it was so sad to see her like that. Her mother's a pathetic druggie who cannot control her desire for some smack, crack, and whatever dope she can get her hands on." He says, shocking me as his words about my mother leave his lips.

A secret he swore to never tell anyone.

A secret I whispered to him in confidence, my fear of rejection from the world palpable in that moment.

How could he do this?

The sight of Roxanne laughing hysterically rubs the wound in, like salt on a fresh wound, as I hiss internally from the pain.

My fists clench beside me, anger coursing through me in waves.

Enough is enough.

Enough of being the weak one,

I found him again, this time in the courtyard after morning practice. Sweat clung to his neck, his jersey slung lazily over his shoulder. Girls watched him like he was a storm worth drowning in, worshipping the ground he walked on.

And he? Well, he looked bored.

Until he saw me.

I didn’t speak at first. Just walked right up to him. Met him toe to toe.

His eyebrow arched. “Change your mind?”

I looked him dead in the eye, heart racing like thunder in my chest.

“You want war?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “Always.”

I extended my hand. “Then let’s burn.”

Lucien’s grin unfurled like a goddamn prophecy.

He stepped in, towering, tilting his head until his mouth brushed my ear, not caring about those watching us.

“Welcome to the dark side, scholarship girl,” he murmured, his voice rough, and velvety.

“We don’t do mercy here.”

LUCIEN'S POINT OF VIEW.

The engine purred beneath me like a beast restrained, its growl low and threatening as I leaned back against the leather seat of my Lamborghini. The early morning sun filtered through the tinted windshield, casting gold across the sleek black dash. But I wasn’t watching the road.

I was watching her.

Sloane.

Curvy, scowling, stubborn Sloane—marching up the sidewalk like she was daring the universe to touch her. Her books clutched to her chest. Her yellow-dyed hair caught the light like fire. She didn’t know I’d been parked on this street for ten minutes.

Correction: She didn’t know I’d been watching her every morning since the bet.

Scratch that, every morning since she walked through the halls of Ravenscroft High.

But today wasn’t just any morning.

Today, we arrived.

I rolled the window down slowly.

“Sloane,” I called out.

She stopped like someone had yanked her spine back. Her eyes locked onto mine with the precision of a sniper’s aim, her eyes wide in shock and surprise.

“What the hell!?” She exclaims.

I smirked. “Get in.”

She didn’t move. “Are you stalking me now?” She asks, looking around, perhaps to make sure no one sees her with me.

I'd understand, after all, there's a five-million-dollar car on the road in a lower-class neighbourhood.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I lied easily. “I figured you’d walk. And I didn’t want my girlfriend showing up to school alone.”

“Fake girlfriend,” she corrected, hugging her books tighter, her eyes lighting behind her thin glasses.

Feisty, I like it.

“Details.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Now get in.”

She folded her arms. “No.”

I leaned over, pushed the passenger door open with one casual hand. “Don’t make me get out and carry you in. That’d be very dramatic. And you know I don’t mind an audience.” My smirk must have convinced her, because she bites her lip in frustration as she says;

“You’re insane.”

I smiled, slow and sharp. “And yet, you agreed to date me.”

She hesitated. The war in her eyes flickered, and I saw it--he exact moment she caved. Studying her body language works well for me; there's almost nothing I don't know about her.

Sloane yanked open the door and slid into the car like she hated every second of it. She slammed it shut, throwing me a death glare. “You drive like a serial killer, don’t you?”

“Worse,” I said, shifting gears. “I drive like a man with no fear.”

Call it pride, call it foolishness, but I do whatever the fuck I want. No sane officer would stop me.

The car roared to life, and we peeled away from the curb, driving off into the street.

“Why are you here?” she asked after a beat, her wild eyes searching all over me.

I didn’t look at her. “We’re making a scene today. Might as well start with the entrance.”

She snorted. “What, you want to roll up like a movie villain and parade your ‘charity case’ around?”

I glanced at her, jaw tight. “Don’t ever call yourself that again.”

Roxanne gave her the nickname, and the second it came out of her botox-filled lips, I hated it.

She blinked.

“I don’t do pity,” I added. “I do power plays. And this—” I reached across the console, took her hand in mine. She tensed. I didn’t let go. “—This is checkmate.”

“You’re such a bastard,” she muttered, staring at our hands.

I leaned in just enough to breathe against her ear. “Touch me again like that and I’ll make you scream my name loud enough for her to lose sleep.”

She jerked her hand back, but not before her fingers curled just slightly around mine.

Cute.

The school came into view, its polished gates looming ahead. Already, students gathered at the front.

Gossiping, laughing, existing in their perfect little worlds.

I pulled into the front loop like I owned the damn building. (Technically, my father did. But we don’t brag.)

True wealth speaks for itself, and one thing Eldric taught me is to never speak before my money does.

Power is silent, Lucien. Don't speak, let power do the talking.

Sloane shifted beside me. “You plan to hold my hand the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Even in front of—” Her already large eyes grow even wider at the thought of us in front of Roxanne and Matt.

Cute.

That word again...what's wrong with me?

“Especially in front of them.”

She groaned. “You’re evil.”

That sounded like a compliment.

“And you’re mine today. Don’t forget that, scholarship girl.”

I stepped out, walked to her side, and opened the door like we were arriving at a red carpet event.

All of a sudden, the crowd of aimless students pauses, and everyone suddenly turns to the object of interest.

Us.

Phones suddenly fly out, ready to take pictures and videos for the school blog, school gossip channels, and social media, as everyone begins to whisper in their groups.

'Who is Ravenscroft with?'

Sloane stood slowly, clutching her books again like armor. I

Clenching my jaw, I took them from her immediately. To make this work, she has to be as strong as possible.

No shrinking, no turning back, just pure revenge, and being a nerd wouldn't cut it.

. She froze the moment her books left her arms, almost turning as I dropped them onto the seat of my car, but I whispered in her ear.

"Don't turn, and don't you dare pick them up. Keep your head high, chin up, and face them like a queen. No shields,” I said. “Just you.”

Then I slid my hand into hers, laced our fingers, and tugged her close, her curvy body brushing against my own, sending something into my groin.

That's new.

Her breath hitched. At the contact, her hands were trembling in mine as we walked, me leading her in the middle of the sea of people parting for us as we walked through them.

Every step was fire, the feel of every eye on us was gasoline. But I welcomed it, already used to the eyes of everyone on me from a tender age.

Looking ahead, I saw two people standing at the top of the stairs, their eyes wide in shock as the girl looked at Sloane with anger, pain, and malice. The guy looks at Sloane, my girl, in shock and what looks like;

Pain.

Good, let them burn, Sloane.

He dared not look at me, at least not when I or anyone else would know. His father needs that investment after all.

It's Matt and Roxanne.

“Well, well,” Roxanne hissed, her icy eyes flicking down to where Sloane’s hand was tangled in mine, her hand clenched by her side into a fist as she tries not to go feral. I know her, she's tethering off the edges in rage. But she can't do anything, not when I'm here anyway, not when I have given Sloane my arm, and with it, my protection.

“Didn’t know you started collecting strays, Lucien.” Her lips curl in a snarl, her anger and irritation obvious.

Sloane flinched.

Roxanne smiled, noticing her effect on her.

Bad move.

I leaned down, whispering just loud enough for Sloane to hear. “Say the word, and I’ll ruin her.”

My anger rises, ready to obliterate anything in my purview.

But Sloane straightened, wiping off every look of hurt on her face as she looked Roxanne in the eye, her lips drawn in a sweet smile. Her voice was steady, cold, unflinching as she spoke.

“At least I wasn’t passed around like Lucien’s father’s wine collection.”

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. Matt let out a stunned breath, and everyone held in breath.

Shocked and gob-smacked by Sloane's words as they all stand, watching the show we made for them.

Nice fire, Sloane. I think as I smirk, looking at my girl.

'Fake girl,' My inner voice corrects, but I shun him.

“Oh?” Sloane tilted her head. “That shut you up?”

Proud.

So fucking proud.

That's what I feel in this moment, pure elation and so much fucking pride at her words.

That's my girl.

The urge to give her a high five rises, but I push it back.

Roxanne recovered quickly. “You think he likes you?” She asked, placing her smirk on her face, a vindictive look in her eyes.

Lucien smirked. “I don’t like her.”

Sloane stiffened beside him, her breath hitched again, but I pulled her closer as I said;

“I’m obsessed.”

And then I did it.

In front of everyone—students, teachers, staff—I grabbed Sloane’s waist, spun her into me, and kissed her.

Not a peck. Not a fake kiss on the cheek.

Real. A real fucking kiss.

Her lips parted in shock just as her hands gripped my shirt like she forgot how to breathe. My mouth claimed hers, slow and hard and brutal in the way first kisses shouldn’t be.

But this wasn’t our first kiss.

It was our first war cry, our first declaration of war, of telling both of them;

THE BATTLE LINE HAS BEEN DRAWN.

When I pulled back, her eyes were wild with shock, her lips were red, and her breathing was rough, fast as she stared at me in shock, her eyes somewhat sad.

“You said fake,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath.

“That felt real.”

I brushed her cheek. “Then lie to yourself, scholarship girl. That’s what we’re both doing anyway.”

Matt looked gutted.

Roxanne? Shaking.

We walked past them like kings stepping over corpses.

And that’s when I felt it; the buzzing, vibrating, spreading like wildfire.

Like clockwork, and exactly as I planned, the news had spread.

My phone lit up.

So did hers.

I checked the screen.

A photo of us kissing.

Captioned: SHE'S THE REASON LUCIEN, KING OF RAVENSCROFT, DUMPED ROXANNE! LUCIEN KISSES CHARITY CASE, SLOANE RICHARDS IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL.

I showed it to her.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide in shock.

"So fast?"

I smiled.

“Let them talk,” I whispered.

“Let them all burn.” She responds, walking with her hand fully linked with mine, head high, and chin up.

Then I looked out over the school, smirking because I knew one thing they didn't;

The real games haven’t even started.

SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

As I'd suspected, Roxanne didn't wait before firing the first blow. It came before the second period that day, like a silent, slow poison, but I felt it.

The photo hit before the second period.

I didn’t even get the chance to breathe.

There it was, blasted across every group chat like gospel. A shot of me curled into Lucien’s lap, my head tilted back in laughter, his hand on my waist like I belonged there. Like I was his.

A doctored photo, but for some reason, everyone believed it, even though they knew Lucien and I never hung out, not even for a project. His wing of school was completely different from mine, and off-limits to the scholarship kids.

Everyone still believed it, and it spread like wildfire. The rumor is going wild across the school. I heard the whispers before I saw the caption.

SELLING YOURSELF FOR TUITION? DADDY'S WORK AS THE HELP MUST NOT BE PAYING OFF.

The first time I saw it, my heart didn’t break.

It clenched, tight, hot, furious, ready to burn them all for their allegations. My first kiss was today, in front of the entire school, and not by the one I had wanted my whole life.

I'm not like the rest of them; I'd been saving myself for Matt, thinking of the day he'd come around and hoping it would be soon. There was no way it could have been true.

By the time the bell rang, three more rumors had already spiraled:

A fake chat where I was begging Lucien to sleep with me

A whisper that I was pregnant with his child.

And the worst?

That I was being passed around like a discount whore.

Funny how fast the world turns on you the second you stop being quiet.

----------------------

I slammed my locker shut and forced myself to walk straight, back stiff, chin high, just as Lucien had said earlier this morning. Even when people whispered loud enough for me to hear, their sneers like vicious animals ready to prey on me.

Even when girls stepped aside like my skin might infect them, even when boys whistled as I walked by, acting like they hadn't slept with more than half the school.

They wanted to see me burn, to see me fall, to see me crawl, but for some reason, I felt strong. Maybe it was Lucien and the power he had slowly rubbing off on me, but I made a choice.

I wouldn't fall, not for them.

Fuck their status, their parent's money, their wealth.

I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Rounding off the corner, and heading to my next class, I stop in my tracks, the sight of the last person I wanted to see before me.

Matt.

Lookin away, I move to head into the class room, only to be stopped abruptly by his wrists closing around mine.

"Come with me." He had said, pulling me along and not stopping till we got to the east staircase.

A spot we shared often times, especially when the bullying got too much.

Slo,” he said, soft and syrupy calling me by the endearment he had given me years ago, like he hadn’t stabbed me in the back less than a day ago. “You don’t have to do this. We both know he’s using you.”

Removing my wrist from his hold, I stare him deep in the eye, something I struggled to do up untill yesterday, when I thought we had a chance, and he hadn't backstabbed me

. “You really think I need saving?”

His expression twisted into something condescending. “You’re better than this. You used to care about what people said, your future. Your reputation. You used to be someone I would be proud of, but now, you're just what?”

“And you used to be someone I trusted,” I shot back. “What happened to that?”

Matt blinked, faltered for a second. “You’re not being rational. Roxanne’s just upset—”

“You mean the same Roxanne you cheated with? Or a new one I don’t know about yet?” I cut him off, not ready to listen to what he had to say.

He flinched.

I smiled at that, pure pride filling me at the sight of the effects of my words on him.

“Slo, just—” He started, but I couldn't care less.

Not anymore.

I stepped around him, not bothering to look back. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to anymore.”

I felt it before I saw him.

Lucien.

Watching me from the third-floor railing like a god surveying his kingdom, his jacket slung over one shoulder, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw sharp, tie hanging loose like he didn’t have a care in the world.

But he was watching me.

His ocean blue eyes looking down at me in pride, a smirk on his full lips, his golden hair still in place, like it had a mind of it's own, and would not dare ruin his appearance.

He stared at me in a particular way; it made my heart beat faster, my chest constricted as I stare back at him, and something in me shifts as I realize what his stare is about.

It's like I’d done something he approved of.

Something brutal. Something strong.

Like I made him proud.

And I liked it.

By lunch, the flames were everywhere, consuming it all with nothing left in it's wake.

That fake chat? It’d gone viral., spreading through the entire school, even the janitors knew about it. I could tell from the way they looked at me as they cleaned their spot, their eyes full of pity and worry.

They were also treated worse than animals in this school, so they catered to the scholarship kids in secret, treating us better than anyone else here had.

The rumor about me being pregnant? Spread like wildfire in the cafeteria as everyone whispered loud enough for me to hear;

'You think she'll abort it?'

'Um, yes. Eldrich certainly wouldn't want some charity case pregnant with his grand kid.'

Two girls said from where they'd sat, their group of five snickering as they ate their salad, their paper thin bodies almost disappearing as they snickered.

The whispers about me being "passed around"? They weren’t even whispered anymore, everyone said it to my ear shot, not caring that I was human as well.

And Roxanne?

She laughed loudest, her victory smirk plastered on her face like a permanent tattoo as she moved through the cafeteria, the one place the scholarship kids and some of the elite got to be in a place together; but it was still divided according to class. The scholarship kids were to sit at the farthest part of the hall, closest to the trash cans.

All of a sudden, like an angel smiled from above, everyone's phones pinged loudly in the hall. Some buzzed, some rang, and like clock work, everyone pulled them out to see what was going on.

As did I.

With wide eyes, I read the tabloids on my screen, shock and confusion gripping me.

The news had changed, everything had changed. I stared at the black, white and red words on my phone in shock.

There were four new rumors.....

That Roxanne and Matt were caught in the drama closet by a teacher.

That their sex tape was going around.

That maybe Matt wasn’t as “loyal” as he pretended to be.

That Matt's father's company was going bankrupt.

What the fuck??

Who could have done this?

Like the devil himself whispered in my ears,' look up', I looked up, my eyes moving around in interest.

And there he was;

Lucien Knox fucking Ravenscroft.