***
Elara's hands were trembling uncontrollably. The antiseptic smell was wrapped around her body, and the night air was cutting her like a knife.
Just a couple of hours back, she was a penniless scholarship student trying not to trip over her own feet at a gala full of people who probably used diamonds as paperweights. Now? She'd just dragged the heir to the Thorne empire out of a burning car, and the world was already watching.
Literally.
The sound of sirens hadn't even faded before she noticed the flashes, voices, and phones aimed at her. A bunch of people were filming the whole incident from the sidewalk. One of them shouted, "That's Julian Thorne!" and a second one shouted, "She saved him! Show her face to the camera!"
Her heart was racing, and she was in a state of panic. She just raised her hand, as if that was going to stop the photographers, but the lights kept flashing and were blinding her with their relentlessness.
The chaos blurred together reporters pushing past barriers, people shouting questions she couldn't even process.
"Who is she?"
"Is she his girlfriend?"
"How did she get to the gala?"
She wanted to scream that she was nobody. That she didn't belong here. But her throat wouldn't work.
And then silence cut through the noise.
Sterling was approaching her again.
"Mr Sterling," she said simply.
"Mrs Eleanor asked me to take you home." He spoke
Elara blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Ms. Vance," Sterling said, his voice flat and professional. "This way, please."
The ride back to campus was quiet.
Elara was quiet in the back seat of a car that was probably worth more than what she would pay for her entire college education. The city's lights were sparkling past her window in slices of gold and red and were also reflecting in her sleepy eyes.
The sound of brakes hitting the floor, the glass bursting, Julian's blood on her hands. The flashes. The reporters shouting.
By the time Sterling pulled up in front of her dorm, she was numb. The trembling in her hands was still there, her dress was ruined, and she smelled like smoke and antiseptic.
"Good night, Ms. Vance," Sterling said before driving off like she was just another errand crossed off the Thorne family's list.
Elara stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the distance, and realized her life had just changed.
She thought the madness would die down overnight. She was wrong.
By morning, the internet had exploded.
"THORNE HEIR IN NEAR-FATAL CRASH, MYSTERY GIRL SAVES HIS LIFE"
"Who Is She? The Unknown Heroine at the Thorne Gala"
"Scholarship Student or Secret Girlfriend? Social Media Divided!"
Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Journalists called the university. Someone even found her old debate photos and posted them with captions like "Smart, brave, and beautiful, meet Julian's savior."
Her friend, Maya, nearly fainted. Half the school whispered about her in the hallways. The other half sent her DMs like she was suddenly some sort of influencer.
Elara wanted to crawl under her desk and stay there forever.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the crash, the lights, the cameras. And somewhere in that barrage of memory, Eleanor Thorne's voice was resounding once more.
"We will not forget this".
She could not tell whether it was a promise or a threat. The envelope arrived three days later.
The same man from before, Sterling, showed up at her dorm like a ghost in a suit. He handed her a sealed letter embossed with gold, the Thorne crest gleaming at the top.
Inside was a card, short and cold as a legal notice:
"Mr. Julian Thorne wishes to convey his appreciation.
A private meeting is requested at your earliest convenience.
Thorne Enterprises, Penthouse Suite."
Her stomach dropped.
This wasn't over.
It wasn't even close.
Because when the richest family in the city said "meeting," they didn't mean coffee and small talk.
They meant control.
And deep down, Elara knew whatever the Thornes wanted next, it wasn't just a thank-you.
It was the start of something she wouldn't be able to walk away from.