A/N: New book incoming. Please I'd be dropping a new book titled 'The Billionaire's Ploy' very soon. I'll let you know when it's out on this platform so please show your love and support for my new book like you always do.💜
========
The atmosphere in the Senior Council room had shifted from a sanctuary of order to a theater of performance. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the air seemed to thin out, the oxygen consumed by the presence of a boy who should not have been there. Luke was a Junior, a ninth-place contender who had somehow navigated the labyrinth of Sinclair influence to sit at the table of the elite. He did not speak often, but when he did, his voice was a smooth, melodic chime that resonated with a false humility.
I sat at my desk, my fingers hovering over the keys of my laptop, my gaze fixed on the minutes of the meeting. But my mind was tracking the geometry of the room. I could feel Carl to my left, his presence a heavy, grounding heat. And I could feel Luke at the end of the table, his eyes moving between us like a scanner.
"The budget for the upcoming showcase is finalized," Carl said, his voice a cold, sharp blade. He did not look at Luke as he slid a physical folder across the oak table. "I assume you can handle the logistics, Junior. Or is the ninth-place ranking indicative of your organizational skills as well?"
It was a blatant insult, a piece of the 'Shark' persona that Carl wore like armor. In the past, Luke would have bristled. But the 'New Luke' only smiled, a warm, boyish expression that made my skin crawl.
"I appreciate the challenge, Chair Sinclair,"
Luke said, accepting the folder with a respectful nod. "I find that being in the ninth position gives me a very clear view of the heights I have yet to climb. I will ensure the logistics are as flawless as your own reputation."
I felt the subtle shift in Carl's posture. He was being outplayed in the arena of manners. By remaining polite, Luke was making Carl look like the bully.
The meeting adjourned an hour later. I lingered, pretending to organize my notes. I needed to breathe. I needed to feel Carl's hand on mine without the fear of a witness.
"He is mapping us, Carl," I whispered, the moment we were alone. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the shadows of the ivy. "He is not just sitting there. He is counting the seconds of our silence. He is watching the way you look at me when you think you are being subtle."
"He is a Junior trying to impress a board he does not belong to," Carl replied, his footsteps echoing as he walked toward me. "My father is breathing down my neck about the Q3 projections. I do not have the luxury of obsessing over a boy who is finally learning his place."
"He has not learned his place," I snapped, turning to face him. "He is using your father's name like a shield. Carl, he asked me about the maroon dress. He knows it was not from my father."
Carl's eyes darkened, a flash of pure, Sinclair ruthlessness surfacing. "What did he say?"
"He called it a bold choice. He said it was a shame it was meant for a Shark who does not know how to protect his own water."
For a split second, I saw the mask slip. Carl's fingers curled into a fist. The insult to his protection was the one thing he could not ignore. But then, he took a breath, the logic of the Architect returning.
"He is baiting me, Sadie. He wants me to react. I will not give him that satisfaction. Stay away from him, and stay away from the East Wing tonight. I have a meeting with the Board. We will meet tomorrow."
I wanted to believe him. But as I left the Council room, I felt a vibration in my pocket. It was a text from an unknown number.
'The Observatory has beautiful acoustics this time of year. It is a shame the secrets kept under glass are so easy to see from the ground.'
I froze in the center of the council hall. My eyes darted around, searching for a shadow. But the hall was empty. I did not tell Carl. He was already drowning in the pressure of his father's expectations. If I told him, he would do something reckless.
I decided to investigate. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment born of pure, cold terror. I headed toward the East Wing, my heels silent on the stone steps of the spiral staircase. I reached the Observatory, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pushed the heavy glass doors open, expecting to see a monster with a blade.
Instead, I found a study group.
Luke was sitting at the central table, surrounded by three other Juniors. They had star charts spread out, their laptops glowing in the dim light of the dome. Luke looked up as I entered, his expression one of pure, innocent surprise.
"Sadie?" he asked, his voice tilting with concern. "Is everything okay? You look... frantic."
The other Juniors looked at me, their eyes wide. To them, I was the elite Senior, the number two student, currently standing in the doorway of their study session looking like I had seen a ghost.
"I... I thought I heard someone up here," I managed to say, my voice sounding thin and hollow.
"It is just us, working on the astronomy elective," Luke said, standing up and walking toward me. He didn't look like a stalker. He looked like a worried friend. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been acting a bit... on edge lately. Is the pressure of the rankings getting to you?"
"I am fine, Luke," I snapped, backing away. "Carry on with your studies."
I turned and fled, my face burning with humiliation. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my phone buzzed again.
'You look so beautiful when you are scared, Sadie. But be careful. If you keep running into rooms looking for ghosts, people might start to wonder if the ghost is actually inside your head.'
I stared at the screen, my breath coming in jagged gasps. He had sent the text while sitting right in front of his friends. He had used them as an alibi. He was gaslighting me in front of the entire school.
Meanwhile, in the Junior hostel, Arnold was watching Luke return from the study session. He saw the way Luke's smile vanished the moment he closed his door. He saw Luke pull a small, silver-tipped blade from his desk and test the edge against his thumb, a look of pure, cold focus on his face.
"You are going to get caught, Luke," Arnold whispered from the doorway, his voice trembling.
"I am the ninth-place student, Arnold," Luke replied, his voice a low, melodic purr. "People don't catch the students who follow the rules. They catch the ones who break them. And right now, Sadie Sterling is the only one breaking."