Harlow kicked a solid brass trash can as he stormed down the hallway. The metal clanged loudly against the marble floor.

His current date, Lexi Blum, ran up and touched his arm. Harlow violently shoved her away and kept walking.

Scarlett watched the scene through the cafeteria's glass wall. Her face remained entirely passive. She picked up her tray and walked toward the disposal station.

A sudden, sharp pain spiked at the base of her skull. Scarlett stopped. She pressed her hand against the cold wall.

A glowing red countdown timer flashed across her retinas.

"Main task critical," the system's mechanical voice warned. "Failure to establish interaction with Dontae Vance will result in Level One electrical punishment in three minutes."

Scarlett sneered in her mind. Patience, you parasite. She forced the warning screen away and pushed herself off the wall. She kept walking.

She stepped out of the cafeteria doors.

Frank Baxter, a senior Student Council officer, stood in the middle of the hallway. Two large juniors stood behind him. They blocked her path.

Frank tapped the gold-rimmed council badge on his chest. He looked down his nose at her.

"President Vance is waiting for you in the top-floor office," Frank said. His tone was arrogant, like he was delivering a command from a king.

He looked her up and down. "You might want to fix your hair. And try not to cry on his carpet this time."

The hallway traffic slowed down. Students lingered, watching the confrontation. Everyone knew what happened when Dontae Vance summoned someone. They expected Scarlett to run up the stairs like an obedient dog.

Scarlett slowly raised her left arm. She looked at the vintage Patek Philippe watch on her wrist.

She dropped her arm. She looked Frank dead in the eyes.

"I don't have time right now," Scarlett said flatly. "Tell him to wait."

Frank's jaw dropped. The arrogant smirk slid off his face. He stared at her, completely unable to process the words.

Scarlett didn't wait for his brain to catch up. She stepped around him and headed toward the main exit doors.

Frank snapped out of his shock. His face flushed with anger. He reached out and grabbed Scarlett's shoulder to drag her back.

Scarlett shifted her weight. She dropped her shoulder, breaking his grip. In the same fluid motion, she swung the heavy, hardback textbook in her hand backward.

The thick spine of the book smashed directly into the back of Frank's hand.

Frank let out a sharp hiss of pain. He yanked his hand back, cradling his bruised knuckles.

"Are you crazy?" Frank yelled. "You don't reject the President!"

Scarlett stopped. She turned her head slowly. Her eyes were like shards of black ice.

"If Dontae Vance wants to see me," Scarlett said, her voice echoing in the quiet hall, "tell him to roll down here and ask me himself."

She turned around and walked out the heavy oak doors of the academy.

Ten minutes later, Frank pushed open the doors to the top-floor office. He was sweating.

Dontae stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the campus.

Frank swallowed hard. He repeated Scarlett's exact words.

The temperature in the office plummeted. Helen Mercer stopped typing and held her breath.

Dontae slowly turned around. There was no anger in his eyes. Instead, his pupils were dilated with a dark, predatory thrill.

He walked over to his desk. He picked up the handwritten report, folded it sharply, and slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He cursed under his breath. The corner of his mouth lifted into a dangerous smile. Fine. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad... He was going to hunt her down himself.

The black Maybach crunched over the gravel driveway and stopped in front of Sinclair Manor.

Scarlett stepped out. She looked up at the massive, two-hundred-year-old Gothic estate. It felt like a tomb.

The heavy front doors swung open. Giles Mccray, her distant cousin, walked out onto the porch. He wore a perfectly tailored tweed three-piece suit. A warm, gentle smile was plastered across his face.

"Scarlett," Giles said softly. "How was your first day back? I hope the other students weren't too harsh on you."

He sounded exactly like a concerned older brother.

Scarlett's eyes narrowed slightly. She noticed where he was standing. He was positioned dead center on the top step-the spot reserved strictly for the head of the family.

She didn't say a word. She walked up the stairs, her heels clicking sharply against the marble.

Giles stepped aside to let her pass. The moment her back was to him, the warm smile vanished. His eyes turned cold and venomous.

Dinner was served in the main dining room. The long mahogany table felt empty with only the three of them sitting at it.

William Sinclair III cut into his meat. He cleared his throat. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

"Scarlett," William said, not looking up from his plate. "The board of directors is concerned. Your erratic behavior over the last three years has caused significant instability."

He took a sip of wine. "I have decided to temporarily transfer proxy control of your voting shares to Giles."

Giles immediately put his fork down. He looked shocked. "Uncle William, no. I couldn't possibly. I don't have the experience to manage her shares."

William waved his hand dismissively. "You've been the only stable force in this family, Giles. It's settled."

Scarlett picked up her heavy crystal water glass. She slammed it down onto the mahogany table.

The loud thud made William jump.

Scarlett stared directly at her father. "Are you going senile, or are you just blind? You are handing the keys to our house to a thief."

William slammed his hand on the table. "Watch your mouth! You have done nothing but drag this family through the mud!"

Giles leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on William's arm. "Please, Uncle, your blood pressure. Scarlett is just upset. She doesn't mean it."

Scarlett pushed her chair back and stood up. She planted her hands on the table and leaned over, looking down at the two of them.

"Listen to me very carefully," Scarlett said, her voice dropping to a freezing register. "What is mine belongs to me. If anyone tries to touch so much as a speck of dust on my shares, I will bury them."

She turned and walked out of the dining room.

She reached the top of the dark, second-floor landing. Footsteps hurried up the stairs behind her.

Giles caught up to her. The hallway was dimly lit. The mask of the perfect gentleman was completely gone.

He stepped close to her. His voice was a wet, dangerous hiss. "Don't play tough with me, you stupid girl. I already control half the executives in the company. You are nothing."

Scarlett spun around. Her hand shot out and grabbed the knot of his expensive tie. She shoved him backward with brutal force.

Giles slammed into the wall. A sharp grunt escaped his lips.

Scarlett pulled a silver letter opener from her pocket. She had taken it from her father's desk earlier. She pressed the cold, sharp blade directly against his carotid artery.

Giles froze. His pupils dilated in pure terror. He felt the sting of the metal against his skin. He could feel the faint, steady pulse of his own life beating against the edge of the blade.

Scarlett leaned into his ear. "If you ever try to touch my equity again," she whispered, her voice like a snake sliding over glass, "I will cut your throat myself."

She pulled the blade away and walked down the hall, leaving Giles trembling in the dark.

Scarlett walked into her bedroom and locked the heavy door behind her.

The second the lock clicked, a violent electrical shock tore through her nervous system.

"Task failed. Level One electrical punishment initiated," the system's voice buzzed in her head.

Scarlett's knees buckled. She collapsed onto the thick Persian rug. Cold sweat instantly soaked through her silk shirt.

Her muscles spasmed violently. She bit down hard on her lower lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She refused to make a sound.

The agony lasted for three agonizing minutes. When it finally stopped, Scarlett lay on the floor, gasping for air. In her mind, she gave the system a vicious, bloody middle finger.

She dragged herself off the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. She stood under the freezing shower for thirty minutes until the shaking stopped.

She stood in front of the mirror. She applied a thick layer of concealer over her pale skin. Her eyes burned with a dark, unyielding fire.

The next morning, Scarlett skipped her classes. She walked into the academy's rare books library. It was located in the oldest, most isolated wing of the campus.

She needed to pull physical records on the Vance Consortium's early acquisitions. She needed leverage.

The library was empty. Dust motes danced in the sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the entrance slammed open.

Dontae Vance walked in. He wore a dark navy bespoke suit. He moved like a predator stepping into a cage.

Four massive men in black suits followed him. They immediately moved to block the exits, locking the heavy brass deadbolts.

Scarlett looked up from the thick ledger on her desk. She watched him approach. Her face showed absolutely no fear.

Dontae walked up to her table. He stood over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light. His dark eyes cut into her.

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating.

Scarlett closed the ledger. She folded her hands on top of the desk and leaned back.

Dontae reached into his jacket. He pulled out the handwritten report and tossed it onto the center of the oak table.

"Who is the team behind this?" Dontae demanded. His voice was low and rough.

Scarlett let out a short, mocking laugh. "Your lack of imagination is boring. I wrote it."

Dontae narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, invading her space. He stared into her eyes, searching for the lie. He found nothing but a black abyss.

He reached into his pocket again. He pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid it across the table.

"Ten million dollars," Dontae said. "You sign a non-disclosure agreement, and you forget this loophole exists."

Scarlett looked at the check. Her lips curled into a sneer.

"The Vance Consortium is worth over a hundred billion," Scarlett said. "If this loophole hits the SEC, your stock tanks by twenty percent in an hour. You lose twenty billion."

She tapped her fingernail against the wood. "Ten million dollars wouldn't even buy a strand of my hair."

Dontae's jaw tightened. "People who make me unhappy in this city have a habit of disappearing without a trace."

Scarlett leaned forward, matching his aggressive posture. "If my heart stops beating, an automated email sends this exact report to the SEC and the Wall Street Journal."

The air between them crackled with violent tension. Neither of them blinked. Neither of them backed down.

Dontae suddenly let out a dark, breathless laugh. The anger in his eyes morphed into a twisted, burning fascination. He realized he was looking at the most dangerous creature he had ever met.