ROWAN
She doesn't look away.
That's the first problem.
Most people do.
Not because I demand it.Because they understand.
Power doesn't need to announce itself. It just exists, and the smart ones adjust.
But Sienna Cole—
She holds my gaze like she doesn't see the difference between us.
Or worse.
Like she sees it and doesn't care.
I watch her walk across the courtyard without hurrying.
Deliberate.
Defiant.
She knows I'm still looking.
She doesn't give me the satisfaction of reacting.
Interesting.
"Since when do you talk to freshmen?" Carter mutters beside me.
I don't answer.
Because I'm not sure.
We start walking again. Conversations resume around us, low and careful. A few nods. A few greetings.
All predictable.
Blackthorn runs on structure.
Legacy families. Donor money. Political alliances. Corporate pipelines.
My family sits at the center of most of it.
Which means I do too.
My phone vibrates.
I don't need to look at the screen to know who it is.
I step away from the noise before answering.
"Yes."
"Orientation started at nine," my father says without greeting.
His voice sounds the same as it always does—measured, precise, emotionally absent.
"I'm aware."
"And?"
"And nothing. I'm here."
A pause.
I can picture him in his office—glass walls, city skyline behind him, numbers moving across screens. Kingsley Global doesn't sleep. Neither does he.
"You understand what this year represents," he says.
Not a question.
Graduation.Board placement.Public positioning.
Marriage conversations will follow soon after.
Everything has a timeline.
"I understand," I reply.
"Distractions are expensive, Rowan."
My jaw tightens slightly.
"I don't get distracted."
Another pause.
"If I hear otherwise, I will correct the problem."
The line goes dead.
He never says goodbye.
I stare at the blank screen for a moment before slipping the phone back into my pocket.
Distractions.
I don't get distracted.
So why am I thinking about the way she stood her ground?
Why am I replaying the way she said, Maybe I'll teach you instead?
Arrogant.
She has no idea where she is.
Or who she challenged.
"Everything good?" Carter asks when I rejoin them.
"Fine."
We head toward the business building. Students part automatically.
Predictable.
Safe.
Controlled.
Inside, I take my usual seat near the center of the lecture hall.
Not front row.
I don't need proximity to prove dominance.
People feel it regardless.
The room fills gradually.
Then she walks in.
Sienna.
Dark hair loose over her shoulders. Worn leather jacket that doesn't try to impress anyone. She scans the room once, assessing.
Her eyes land on me.
No hesitation.
She takes a seat three rows over.
Not far.
Not close.
Strategic distance.
I shouldn't notice.
I do.
Professor Halberg begins his introduction to Business Ethics.
Predictable curriculum.
Predictable discussion.
He opens the floor with a question about corporate responsibility versus shareholder profit.
A few students offer rehearsed answers.
Then he calls on me.
"Mr. Kingsley?"
Of course.
I outline the practical reality—profit drives growth. Growth drives employment. Employment drives stability.
Corporate sentimentality is inefficient.
Halberg nods, pleased.
Several students scribble notes.
Then—
"I disagree."
The voice cuts clean through the room.
Not loud.
Just certain.
Every head turns.
Sienna doesn't look at me.
She looks at the professor.
"With respect," she continues calmly, "profit without accountability destabilizes markets long term. Short-term gain isn't the same as sustainable strategy."
Silence.
Interesting.
Halberg gestures. "Go on."
She does.
Clear. Logical. Unemotional.
She dismantles my argument without attacking me directly.
Which makes it worse.
A few students shift in their seats.
Carter glances at me, waiting for a reaction.
I don't give him one.
When she finishes, Halberg looks impressed.
"Compelling counterpoint, Miss…?"
"Cole."
He nods.
The room waits.
For me.
I lean back slightly.
"Optimism is admirable," I say evenly. "But markets don't reward morality. They reward leverage."
Her gaze finally shifts to mine.
"And companies collapse when leverage replaces integrity."
A ripple moves through the room.
There it is again.
That refusal to soften.
I hold her eyes for a long moment.
Then I smile.
Not warmly.
Just enough.
"Time will educate you."
She doesn't flinch.
"I prefer evidence."
A few students stifle reactions.
Halberg clears his throat and redirects the discussion, but the shift has already happened.
She didn't just challenge an idea.
She challenged me.
After class, whispers start immediately.
"Does she know who you are?"
"Scholarship, I think."
"That was bold."
I gather my notebook slowly.
Carter steps closer. "You going to let that slide?"
I glance toward the doorway.
Sienna stands there, checking something on her phone.
Alone.
No nervous scanning. No regret.
"No," I say quietly.
I don't feel angry.
I feel… alert.
Awake.
It's been a while since someone surprised me.
Since someone didn't adjust automatically.
As the room empties, she steps into the hallway.
I follow at an unhurried pace.
Students notice.
They always do.
She doesn't speed up when she hears my footsteps.
That might irritate me.
Instead, it intrigues me.
"Sienna."
She turns slowly.
"Yes?"
No deference.
No apology.
"You're confident," I say.
She shrugs lightly. "I'm prepared."
Prepared.
That implies intention.
"You should be careful," I tell her.
Her eyebrow lifts slightly. "About what?"
"This isn't a debate club. Reputation matters."
She studies me for a moment.
"And yours is fragile?"
The audacity.
A few students nearby pretend not to listen.
I step closer—not enough to touch, just enough to shift the air.
"My reputation," I say quietly, "is built."
"And mine isn't?" she replies.
I glance briefly at the strap of her worn bag.
"Not yet."
She follows my gaze.
Understands the implication.
Scholarship.
Outsider.
Temporary.
Her spine straightens.
"Good thing I'm not here to compete with you."
A lie.
Everyone here competes.
They just disguise it better.
I lower my voice so only she can hear.
"You don't know how this campus works."
"And you don't know me."
There's no fear in her eyes.
No calculation.
Just challenge.
That's the second problem.
I could end this easily.
A word to administration.A social freeze-out.A few strategic pressures.
She'd fold.
Most would.
But the idea leaves a strange taste in my mouth.
Because I don't want her gone.
I want her to push back.
I straighten slightly.
"Careful, Sienna."
"Why?" she asks softly.
"Blackthorn eats girls who mistake defiance for power."
For a moment, something flickers in her expression.
Not fear.
Fire.
"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not easy to swallow."
My control tightens.
Carter shifts behind me, sensing tension.
I step aside deliberately.
"For your sake," I say, "I hope you're right."
She walks past me without rushing.
Again.
And again, I watch her go.
This time, I don't look away first.
I let the silence stretch.
Let the awareness settle.
Distractions are expensive.
My father's voice echoes in my head.
I don't get distracted.
But as Sienna Cole disappears down the hallway, one thought settles cold and clear:
She's not afraid of me.
And I don't know whether I want to break that—
Or protect it.