Chapter 5
Marcus scrambled out of the hedge, his face red with humiliation and anger.
Leaves clung to his expensive t-shirt, and there was a scratch on his cheek that would probably bruise.
"You're dead meat," he hissed, his voice shaking. "You have no idea who you just fucked with.
"My dad owns. ".... "A chain of car dealerships that are underwater on their loans," Remy interrupted calmly, the Foresight feeding him information.
"Chen Auto Group. Three locations. $4.7 million in debt as of last quarter.
He's been cooking the books to hide it from the bank.
You might want to tell him that the auditor he's meeting soon isn't as stupid as he thinks."
Marcus's face went from red to white. "How did you"
But Remy was already walking away, leaving Marcus sputtering in the mulch.
Just then, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, whispers intensifying to a fever pitch.
Walking at the front of a group of three was the reason for the commotion: one of the school belles.
Asherton's unofficial royalty, the girls who set the social hierarchy by their mere presence.
The one present was Lyra Castellane.
She was breathtaking in the way that classical paintings were breathtaking, perfect, and untouchable, and somehow more than human.
She had bright, long yellow hair that flowed like silk to her waist, naturally blonde in a shade that people paid thousands of dollars trying to replicate.
Her eyes were an unusual piercing silver, almost metallic, the kind of eyes that seemed to look through you rather than at you.
Her curvy body hourglass figure with dangerous curves that made grown men stammer, was dressed in an outfit that screamed both wealth and status.
A designer sundress that probably cost more than the average person car, paired with shoes that were definitely Louboutins, and a handbag that Remy's Foresight identified as this season's Hermès Birkin in rose gold.
As a top-tier beauty from one of the richest families in the state. The Castellanes owned a real estate empire that spanned three states. She carried herself with a proud, almost untouchable aura.
She was the kind of girl who'd been told she was special since birth, who'd never had to work for male attention, who'd been proposed to by boys since middle school.
She was also one of the girls who had laughed the loudest when Remy had been tripped in the cafeteria all those months ago.
Behind her walked her two companions.
Isabella, a stunning brunette with green eyes and a more approachable demeanour, and Sakura, a petite Japanese-American girl with perfect features and a quiet intensity.
Lyra was part of a Trinity of girls who were the most popular, most desired girls on campus.
Lyra stopped when she saw the commotion, her silver eyes taking in the scene: Marcus climbing out of the hedge, Tyler looking shaken, the crowd buzzing with excitement, and at the centre of it all, a man she didn't recognise.
She looked at Remy, her silver eyes narrowing with the calculating precision of someone used to cataloguing social hierarchies.
She studied him from head to toe, the expensive clothes, the athletic build, the confident posture, the handsome face that belonged on a magazine cover.
She didn't recognise the "fat, ugly Remy" she had once mocked, the boy she'd dismissed as beneath her notice.
All she saw was a man who didn't look at her with the usual pathetic desperation of other boys, who didn't immediately smile or stumble over his words or try to impress her.
That alone was unusual enough to catch her attention.
"You're making a scene," Lyra said, her voice cold but laced with a hint of curiosity.
She stepped forward, her heels clicking on the pavement, and the crowd instinctively gave her space. "Who do you think you are?"
Remy turned to face her fully, and for a moment, their eyes met. His golden-amber gaze held her silver one without flinching, without the usual awe or intimidation that men showed when faced with her beauty.
A small, knowing smirk played on his lips, the kind of expression that suggested he knew something she didn't, and that amused him.
"Someone who knows exactly what your family is going through, Lyra," he said quietly, but his voice carried in the sudden silence. "And someone who knows you're going to need my help very soon."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Lyra's face went pale, the colour draining from her cheeks as if someone had pulled a plug.
Her hand, which had been resting confidently on her hip, trembled slightly as she raised it to tuck a lock of yellow hair behind her ear
A nervous gesture that she immediately tried to hide.
Her family's impending bankruptcy was a secret they had guarded with everything they had.
The Castellane Real Estate Empire was crumbling, overleveraged in a market that had turned against them, with creditors circling like sharks.
Her father had kept it hidden from everyone, even most of the family.
They were three months, maybe four from losing everything.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, but her voice lacked its usual confidence.
Her silver eyes widened slightly, a crack in the perfect facade she always maintained.
"You don't know anything about my family. You don't know anything about me."
"I know that your father took out a bridge loan from Meridian Capital last month," Remy said, his voice low enough that only she and her immediate circle could hear.
"I know that the Harbour Point development is stalled and bleeding money.
I know that you've been accepting gifts from Andrew Worthington because you're terrified of what happens when everyone finds out you're broke."
Lyra looked like he'd slapped her. Her lips parted in shock, her perfect composure cracking like ice under pressure. "How"
"And I know," Remy continued, taking a step closer, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "that you have exactly seventy-three days before the foreclosure notices become public record.
After that, everyone will know. The Trinity will become a duo, and you'll be the cautionary tale people tell about what happens when you peak too early."
Tears actually formed in the corners of her eyes, Lyra Castellane, who never cried, who never showed weakness, who ruled this campus like a queen, and she blinked them back furiously
Isabella and Sakura moved closer to their friend, protective and confused.
"Lyra? What's he talking about?" Isabella asked softly.
But Lyra couldn't speak.
She just stared at this stranger who had somehow stripped away all her defences with a few sentences, this man who could see right through the carefully constructed façade she showed the world.
Remy simply walked past her, the scent of his expensive cologne, Tom Ford Noir, woody and sophisticated, lingering in the air like a promise or a threat.
He paused beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and spoke directly into her ear:
"See you in class, Lyra. We have a lot to talk about."
Then he was gone, walking toward the administration building with the confident stride of someone who owned the world, leaving behind a crowd of stunned students, a humiliated bully, and a beautiful girl whose perfect world had just been shaken to its foundations.
"Who the hell was that?" someone whispered.
"No idea, but I think everything just changed," someone else replied.
And in the invisible realm where spirits dwelt, Silas watched his great-great-grandnephew walk away and smiled sadly. "Be careful, boy," he whispered. "Revenge is sweet, but it's also poison. Make sure you don't drink too deeply."
But Remy couldn't hear him anymore. The golden light in his eyes had dimmed, but the fire in his heart, the need to prove himself, to make them all see, to transform from victim to victor, burned brighter than ever.
The game had begun.