The morning light filtered through the windows of my penthouse, but it did little to warm the cold, atmosphere of the room.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the silk sheets sliding off my frame, staring at the reflection in the vanity mirror. The man staring back was a stranger to most, a titan of industry, a name that caused stock markets to fluctuate with a single word, and a face that graced the covers of Forbes magazine more times than I could count.

But to me, he was just a man carrying the weight of an empire on his shoulders.

I stood up, stretching the stiffness from my limbs. My home was vast, a sprawling expanse of modern architecture and expensive art, yet it echoed with a profound silence.

I headed to the bathroom, a space that felt like a world of its own, private, and comforting. I pulled off my top and stepped inside.

I turned on the shower, and water cascaded gently over my body, running through my curly hair and down my skin.

I took my time, letting the warmth relax me completely. After a while, I finished bathing, reached for my bathing suit, and stepped out. I dried my body slowly, still enjoying the soothing feeling the water had left behind.

I walked into my walk-in closet, a room larger than most people's apartments, and began the ritual of armoring myself for the day. Today was not a day for relaxation; today was about appearances, about maintaining the image of the Vanguard Group company.

I selected a suit from the rack. It was a Tom Ford piece, deep midnight black, tailored to perfection to hug my frame. I slipped on the trousers first, the fabric cool against my skin, followed by a crisp white dress shirt that I buttoned up to the collar. I chose a tie of silk, black with a subtle geometric pattern, and knotted it with practiced precision. Finally, I slipped into the jacket, smoothing out the lapels.

I sat back down to put on my shoes, Italian leather oxfords, polished to a mirror shine. As I tied the laces, I caught sight of my hair in the mirror. It was curly, unruly at times, but I kept it tamed and styled, framing a face that my publicist described as "ruggedly intellectual."

My skin complexion was golden, a testament to my heritage, and my eyes were dark, often described by the media as "fearless." They were eyes that had seen negotiations turn sour and deals collapse, eyes that never blinked first.

I stood up and adjusted my cuffs, checking my reflection one last time. I looked the part. I looked like a man who owned the world. But as I applied my signature cologne, a scent of sandalwood and spice I felt nothing but a hollow sense of duty.

I walked out of the closet and headed for the bedroom door. The hallway was silent, lined with artwork that I rarely had time to appreciate. I reached the grand staircase, a sweeping structure of marble and glass that descended to the main living area.

I didn't walk down it leisurely. I descended with a purpose, my footsteps echoing sharply against the stone. The rhythm of my gait was steady, a cadence that matched the ticking clock in my mind. I was a man of frequency and precision; everything I did had a reason, a timing, and a place.

"Sir, your breakfast is ready," I heard my cook, Corvina, say.

"No, I won't be having breakfast today. I have something important to attend to, and I'm running late."

"Okay, sir," she said, nodding her head.

As I reached the bottom landing, my security team was already waiting. They were a silent, imposing presence in black suits, earpieces coiled around their ears, eyes scanning for threats that would never dare to manifest here.

"Good morning, Mr. Alexander Mark," the head of my security, a man named Marcus, said with a curt nod.

"Marcus," I replied, not breaking my stride. "Is the car ready?"

"It's waiting in the driveway, sir."

I walked out of the front doors, the cool morning air hitting my face. The driveway was lined with luxury vehicles. Sitting there, purring with a low, aggressive idle, was my Rolls-Royce Phantom.

It was a beast of a machine, a symbol of opulence and engineering excellence. It was painted in a deep, metallic charcoal that seemed to absorb the light around it.

Marcus moved ahead, opening the rear passenger door with a gloved hand. I nodded to him as I approached, sliding into the cool, leather-clad interior. The door closed with a solid, reassuring thunk, sealing me away from the outside world. The interior smelled of new leather and that distinct, expensive scent that only a car costing half a million dollars could possess.

He closed my door and walked around the car before opening his own. He settled into the front passenger seat while the driver, Ethan, adjusted himself and prepared to start the engine.

"Good morning, sir," Ethan said as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Good morning," I replied absently, my attention fixed on the files I was reviewing.

The engine came to life, and moments later, we drove away from the penthouse.

The drive to St. Jude's College was relatively long, so I checked my watch, a limited edition Patek Philippe. I was running slightly ahead of schedule, which was rare. I usually preferred to be late, a power move that kept people waiting, but today, I felt an odd urge to get this over with.

The donation was a PR stunt, nothing more. A few buildings to secure a tax write-off and some positive press for the Vanguard Group. I had no particular affinity for the institution. It was just another transaction in a life filled with them.

As the car turned onto the avenue leading to the main gate of the college, I heard it before I saw it. A low, rhythmic roar that grew louder with every second.

"It wasn't an engine. It was a crowd."

The Rolls-Royce slowed as we approached the imposing iron gates of the college.

Students were lining the road, standing five or six deep behind the temporary barricades that had been set up. They were holding signs, waving, and craning their necks to get a look. As my car rolled through the gates, the roar exploded.

"Mr. Alexander! Mr. Alexander!"

I kept my expression neutral, unreadable. This was the part I hated the most: the adulation of strangers who didn't know me, who only knew the brand.

The car finally came to a stop at the base of the grand staircase that led up to the administration building. Before the car had even fully settled, my security detail was in motion. Two guards stepped out of the trailing SUV and took up positions by the rear door of my car, while the others formed a perimeter.

"Marcus stepped out in a rush and opened the door."

I stepped out into the chaos. The flash of cameras was blinding, a strobe light effect that threatened to give me a headache before the day had even begun. The screams of the female students were piercing, a wall of sound that washed over me.

"Oh my god, he's even hotter in person!" "Look at those curls!" "Mr. Alexander, over here!"

"I ignored them all."

I adjusted my suit, smoothing the front of my jacket, and looked straight ahead. My face was a mask of cool indifference.

Waiting at the top of the stairs was Principal Miller, Mr. Miller. He was a man of medium build with a thinning hairline and a smile that looked a little too desperate to please. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he descended the steps to greet me, his hand extended.

"Mr. Alexander! Welcome, welcome to St. Jude's College!" he exclaimed, his voice booming as he tried to compete with the crowd. "It is such an honor to have the CEO of the Vanguard Group company gracing us with your presence."

I took his hand, giving it a single, firm shake before releasing it. "Principal Miller," I said, my voice deep and level. "Thank you for having me.

"We've prepared a full tour," he continued, undeterred by my brevity. "The students are ecstatic. The news about you donating several buildings to the school has spread all over the campus like wildfire. You're now a celebrity at St. Jude's College, sir. A true hero to our academic community."

He gestured to a banner hanging from the administration building that bore my face and the words:

"THANK YOU, MR. ALEXANDER MARK."

"We've already put up your name and photo on display in the main hall," he rattled on, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool morning air.

"The press is ready for the photo op, and the student council president is prepared to give a speech in your honor"

"Rattling all day," I cut him off, my tone sharp enough to slice through his monologue.

Mr. Miller stopped mid-sentence, blinking rapidly.

"I... I beg your pardon?"

"All that fanfare," I said, gesturing vaguely at the banner, the cameras, and the screaming students. "The principal can save it for someone else, but not me. I didn't come here for a parade. I don't need any of that."

I stared down at the watch on my wrist, tapping the face of it lightly. "I am here to sign the documents, verify the building plans, and leave. I have a lot of things to do, Principal Miller. My time is valuable."

The smile on his face faltered, cracking slightly to reveal the anxiety underneath. He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Understood... understood completely, Mr. Mark," he stammered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the sweat glistening on his forehead. "Of course. We don't want to waste a titan's time. I apologize for the... exuberance. We will skip the ceremony. I have the papers ready in my office. Right this way."

He turned abruptly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to lead the way. I fell into step behind him, my security detail flanking me like a moving wall. We walked through the throngs of students, the parting of the sea instantaneous. The noise level dipped as I passed, a hush falling over the crowd followed by a renewed wave of whispers and shutter clicks.

I kept my eyes forward, my expression unreadable, but my mind was already drifting, calculating the ROI of this trip, analyzing the architectural flaws of the buildings we were passing. It was just another day in the life of Alexander Mark.

We entered the administration building, the noise of the outside world instantly muffled by the heavy oak doors.

Mr. Miller led the way down a corridor lined with oil paintings of past principals, his footsteps echoing hurriedly against the marble floor.

"My office is just ahead," he said, his voice echoing slightly.

I didn't respond. I simply walked, my polished shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor. I was about to ask him to hurry up when a sound pierced the silence.

It wasn't loud. In fact, it was barely a whisper. But in the dead quiet of the hallway, it might as well have been a gunshot.

"My belly..."

I stopped walking.

Straining to listen more carefully, wondering if I was mistaken.

The voice sounded familiar.

Mr. Miller noticed I had stopped. He froze, turning back slowly, his face pale. "Mr. Alexander? Is everything alright? Is the temperature to your liking?"

I held up a hand, silencing him. I tilted my head, straining my ears. There it was again. A voice, weak, and muffled by wood and distance.

"It hurts so bad... Please help me."

My brow furrowed. The voice... It was hauntingly familiar. It stirred something in the back of my mind, a memory I couldn't quite place. It wasn't a voice I expected to hear in a place like this.

"I'm not here to sell myself, I promise you sir. I just want to save you and nothing else."

I turned sharply and stared at the principal. "I think there's someone in that room," I said, pointing toward the door where the voices were coming from.

Allysia had told me they had locked that girl in the storeroom. If Mr. Alexander ever found out there was a student corrupting the school's reputation, the donation would surely go down the drain. The thought made him break into a sweat, which he quickly wiped away.

Mr. Miller's face went from pale to ghostly white. His eyes widened in horror, and he took a step toward me, blocking my path to the door. "No, Mr. Alexander, you must be mistaken. That... that is the old storage room. It has been abandoned for years now. We store old books and broken furniture there. It's nothing but a junk room."

He laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound that grated on my nerves. "The acoustics in these old buildings are terrible, you see. You're probably hearing echoes from the cafeteria down the hall, or perhaps students outside. There is no one... no one is there."

"He lied."

I nodded, about to walk away, not because I believed him but then I heard another sound coming from inside.

I stopped again when I noticed beads rolling out from under the door.

Came to a stop right close to my feet.

I bent down and picked one up between my fingers, studying it closely. It reminded me of someone, and suddenly it hit me.

"She's the one."

I whispered to myself.

I shoved the bead into my pocket without waiting or giving my security any orders, I lunged toward the door, with them rushing after me.

"Mr. Alexander, there's no one in there," the principal called out, but I was no longer in the state of mind to listen to another one of his lies.

"I ignored him completely."

When I reached the door, I found it locked. Without wasting time, I stepped back slightly, shifting my weight to my left leg against it. The door broke open instantly.

"CRACK."

My security team froze, their hands hovering over their weapons, unsure of the threat. Mr. Miller let out a small, squeaking whimper.

"I didn't look at them."

I stepped over the broken threshold, into the darkness of the storage room.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom. The room was cluttered with stacks of old books and broken chairs, shoved haphazardly against the walls. But in the center of the floor, there was a clearing.

"And there she was."

She was lying in the center of the floor unconscious, her body covered in blood.

Six months ago.

"It was my birthday." Eighteen years of life, and yet, as I sat alone in the back of the lecture hall at St.Jude's College, the day felt indistinguishable from any other. There was no cake, no presents, no streamers, and certainly no joyous chorus of "Happy Birthday." I had no one to celebrate with since I lost my parents, and truth be told, I had convinced myself that I didn't care. Caring required hope, and hope was a luxury I couldn't afford.

My head was buried in a textbook, my eyes scanning the same paragraph for the tenth time, trying to lose myself in the safety of academic words. The silence of the empty classroom was my only companion until the sharp click of heels against the tiled floor shattered it.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The rhythm of the walk was Sereia, Allysia's shadow.

"Aurora," her voice called out, sweet enough to coat poison.

I sighed, closing my book slowly. "Sereia."

"Allysia is waiting for you in the garden," she said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk playing on her lips. "She asked me to come and get you."

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Allysia, the daughter of the Principal and the queen bee of St. Jude's, didn't just "ask" to see me. Her summons was rarely benevolent. But refusal wasn't an option.

We both knew what she was capable of. She could make my life a living hell with a simple snap of her fingers, and I was already hanging on by a thread.

Without much thought, because thinking would only lead to the worst. I stood to my feet.

"Alright," I said, grabbing my bag. "I'm coming."

I started to walk past her, heading for the door, but Sereia stepped in my path, blocking my exit. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a strip of black cloth.

"Use this to blindfold yourself," she commanded, holding it out to me.

I frowned, taking a step back.

"What? Why?"

"You know Allysia," Sereia replied, her tone dropping the fake sweetness. "She asked you to blindfold yourself before you come with me to the school garden. She wants it to be a surprise. Are you really going to disobey her before we even get there?"

I looked at the cloth, then at Sereia's expectant face. The power dynamic was clear. I was a pauper in their kingdom. If I wanted to avoid a scene right here in the hallway, I had to play along.

"Fine," I muttered.

I took the rough fabric from her hand and tied it around my eyes, plunging my world into darkness. Instantly, my other senses heightened.

"Good girl," she said. "Now, hold my arm."

I felt her hand grip my waist not to steady me, but to steer me like a piece of luggage. She led me out of the classroom, down the hallway, and through the heavy exit doors. The air shifted, becoming warmer and humid. We were heading toward the school garden, a secluded area usually reserved for faculty or the elite students.

We walked for what felt like an eternity, my footsteps unsure on the uneven pavement. I had no choice but to trust Sereia, which was a terrifying thought in itself.

"Stop," she said suddenly.

I froze. "Are we there?"

She didn't answer. Instead, I felt her fingers fumbling with the knot at the back of my head. A moment later, the blindfold fell away.

I blinked rapidly, my eyes stinging as they adjusted to the bright afternoon sunlight. Colors swam in my vision greens of the hedges, reds of the roses, and the blur of faces standing before me.

"Surprise!"

The shout was deafening, synchronized, and jarring. My sight finally cleared, and the blur resolved into a crowd. It was my classmates, the popular clique, and at the center of it all, Allysia. She stood with her arms folded across her chest. She was smiling, but it was the kind of smile a predator gives its prey before the pouncing. A balloon popped somewhere to my left, sending confetti raining down on my hair. I stood there, stunned, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a few fleeting seconds, I allowed myself to feel something other than dread. I looked around at the smiling faces.

Was this real? Had they actually done something nice for me?

Allysia stepped forward, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

"Surprise, for the second time!" she announced, clapping her hands together. The rest of the students joined in, a polite, rhythmic applause that echoed in the enclosed garden.

"Aurora," she said, her voice dripping with mock affection. "Today is your birthday. Since you're all alone and have no friends, we, the generous students of St. Jude's, decided to prepare a little surprise for you, girl. And you have to accept it.

"It would be rude not to."

I looked at her, searching for a trace of malice and finding none. For a moment, the impossible happened. I thought she meant it. I thought that, despite our history, despite the way she usually treated the lower-class students like me, she had decided to be decent. Maybe people could change.

"Thank you," I whispered, offering a hesitant smile. "This is... unexpected."

She giggled, a high-pitched sound that set my nerves on edge. "Oh, save the gratitude for the main event."

She turned and gestured to Dominic, who had been standing silently in the back. He grunted and stepped forward, holding something large and flat covered in a wrapping sheet. Allysia snatched it from him and held it up against her chest, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Here, take a look at what I got for you," she said.

I smiled, lifting my head to read whatever message she had written. My heart was actually swelling, just a little. Maybe it was a voucher. Maybe it was a gift card for the bookstore. Something that would help me.

"The sheet fell away."

And my heart stopped.

The board was large, painted in bright, garish colors. In big, bold letters, written with a permanent marker that looked suspiciously like red paint, it read:

"FEMALE COLLEGE STUDENT SEEKING ONE DAY BOYFRIEND. MUST BE DESPERATE."

"I froze."

The blood drained from my face so fast I felt dizzy. I stared at the words, my brain refusing to process them. Slowly, I dragged my gaze away from the board and back to Allysia. She was still wearing that smile, wide and cruel, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Then, the laughter started."

It began with Sereia, a snort that she couldn't hold back. Then Dominic joined in. Within seconds, the entire garden erupted in raucous laughter. They were pointing at me, laughing at my expression, laughing at the sign, laughing at me.

"You know what, Allysia?" I said, my voice shaking with a mix of humiliation and rising anger. "I know we haven't been on good terms. But for once, I thought you were a changed person. I thought maybe you had a heart. I guess I was wrong. You are never the person I imagined you to be. I was always wrong."

I turned on my feet, my vision blurring with tears of shame. I just wanted to leave. I wanted to run away and hide.

But I didn't get far. A hand gripped my arm, yanking me back. Sereia.

"How rude," Sereia hissed in my ear. "Trying to leave without even saying thank you for the gift."

"Or maybe I forgot," Dominic chimed in, stepping into my path to block me again. "You've always been that scared cat, haven't you? Running away with your tail between your legs."

"Scared cat... scared cat... scared cat..."