The Harrington estate shimmered under the morning sun, its marble columns gleaming like ivory. Inside, the smell of fresh croissants and imported coffee filled the grand dining hall. Sophia sat at the long table with her mother and older brother, Lucas, scrolling through her phone as her chef arranged strawberries into perfect rows on her plate.
Her father, already dressed in his tailored suit, glanced up from the financial newspaper in his hands. "Remember what I told you, Sophia," he said calmly, sipping his espresso. "This project with Noah is more than just schoolwork. It's a chance to show him how much you two belong together."
Sophia smiled faintly, twirling her spoon in her coffee. "Of course, Dad. I already told you—I'm on it."
Lucas smirked from across the table. "By 'on it,' she means she's going to make the poor guy suffer until he finally gives in."
"Shut up," Sophia muttered, though her lips curved into a smirk.
Her mother reached over and brushed Sophia's hair back lovingly. "Don't listen to your brother. You're smart, you're beautiful, and you're confident. If Noah can't see it now, he eventually will. Men like him… they always fall harder."
The words warmed Sophia's chest, feeding that fierce determination she carried. Yes, she thought. She had fallen first—but Noah Sinclair would fall harder.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, the Sinclair estate was silent except for the faint ticking of a grandfather clock. Noah sat at the breakfast table, neatly dressed, though his tie hung loose. He barely touched the eggs on his plate, flipping through a book instead.
His mother set a cup of tea in front of him, her eyes soft. "Don't skip meals, Noah. You'll make yourself sick."
"I'm fine," he said quietly, closing the book.
But then his father strode in, his presence heavy enough to silence the air. "Day three," Mr. Sinclair said, his voice firm. "Have you made progress on this project with Sophia Harrington?"
Noah's jaw tightened. "It's just a project."
His father's expression sharpened. "It's not 'just a project.' Their family has been our partner for decades. Don't waste an opportunity."
Noah looked away, but his mother caught the flicker in his eyes—the same flicker she'd seen since he was a boy when he was angry but too disciplined to show it.
He didn't answer, but in his mind, he thought: I don't need Sophia Harrington. I don't need anyone.
---
By the time Noah arrived at Crown Height Academy, the school courtyard was buzzing. Sleek black cars lined the gates, students laughing, gossiping, snapping photos for their feeds. But as always, when Sophia Harrington appeared, the atmosphere shifted.
She stepped out of her Bentley with her girls flanking her—Chloe already recording for the vlog, Isabella fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of the car window, Amelia tossing her hair as though cameras followed her.
"Day three," Sophia announced into her phone, her voice sweet but commanding. "The day everything begins."
Her followers flooded her live comments:
> "Queen Sophia is unstoppable!"
"Show us Noah today!"
"Sophia x Noah project update??"
Sophia smiled at the screen, lowering her voice just enough to tease, "Patience. You'll get your update."
As if on cue, Noah's car pulled up behind hers. The moment he stepped out, tall, broad-shouldered, blazer draped over his arm, the courtyard fell into hushed admiration. His friends followed—Ethan, carefree as ever; Leo, quiet and unreadable; Mason, with his boyish face and sharp eyes; and Adrian, the charmer who always drew stares in his own right.
Sophia's heart quickened. Perfect.
Today wasn't just another day at Crown Height Academy. Today was her chance to prove—to herself, to her father, to the entire school—that Noah Sinclair wasn't untouchable.