NOAH
The walk to class felt endless.
Every hallway, every staircase—people stared. Some openly, some pretending not to. Whispers followed us like smoke:
Seraphina and the scholarship kid? What did he do to get so close? Look at him carrying her stuff like a servant.
I kept my head down, jaw tight, focusing on the weight of her books against my side. The new contacts made everything sharper, almost too clear. I could see every curious glance, every smirk.
Seraphina walked beside me like she owned the academy—and me. Her arm had slipped from mine after Roman, but the memory of her touch still burned. So did the way she'd straightened my tie, fingers lingering just long enough to make my pulse spike.
I hated it.
I hated how part of me didn't.
In Calculus—she took her usual seat at the front. I started to head toward the back where I usually sat with Marcus, but her voice stopped me cold.
"Noah. Here."
She patted the empty stool beside her.
Marcus was already at our table, staring daggers in our direction. His expression said everything: What the hell, man?
I hesitated.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed—just a fraction.
I moved. Sat beside her. The stool felt too small, too exposed.
Throughout the lesson she didn't speak to me once, but her knee brushed mine under the table. Once. Twice. Deliberate. Each time my stomach twisted tighter.
When the teacher called on me for a question about integrals, my voice came out steadier than I felt. Seraphina glanced at me, a tiny curve at the corner of her mouth—like she was proud of her trained dog performing.
By lunch, the tension had coiled so tight in my chest I could barely breathe.
The atrium was loud with chatter and clinking silverware. Seraphina led the way to the usual table—glass walls, marble, the whole elite setup. Brittany, Tess, and a couple others were already there. She slid into her seat and pointed to the chair right beside her.
I set her tray down first, perfectly then sat.
Marcus appeared across the room, tray in hand, clearly heading my way. He stopped when he saw where I was sitting. His face hardened. He turned and found a different table instead.
Guilt hit me like a punch.
Seraphina noticed. Of course she did.
"Problem?" she asked lightly, spearing a piece of fish.
I shook my head. "No."
But it was. Everything was.
She leaned closer, voice barely above the noise. "Good. Eat. Then after school we're going straight home. I have more… tasks for you. Private ones."
Her foot slid against my ankle under the table—slow, teasing.
I gripped my fork tighter.
"Yes, Seraphina."
The words were getting easier. Too easy.
I waited until after lunch—when Seraphina had disappeared with Roman and Tess—before slipping out. Marcus had texted earlier, demanding to meet. I'd risked replying on the new phone while Seraphina was distracted.
He was waiting in an empty classroom.
The second I approached, he straightened, eyes blazing.
"What the hell is going on, Noah?" Marcus demanded, voice low and furious. "You're walking around with her like a damn lapdog. Sitting with her at lunch. I saw the way she had you carrying her shit all day. This isn't you, man."
I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing back to check if anyone had noticed us. "It's… complicated."
"Complicated?" He stepped closer. "You sold your soul to her to avoid expulsion. I get that. But this? Parading around like her personal servant? Where's your spine?"
I exhaled slowly, the weight of the last few days crushing down. There was no point hiding it anymore—not from Marcus.
"I'm living there now," I said quietly. "In the Voss house. Mr. Voss moved me in Saturday night. It's part of the scholarship agreement—residential clause or something. Mom thinks it's this huge opportunity. She already packed my stuff and sent me off."
Marcus stared at me, mouth slightly open. "You're living with Seraphina Voss? Under the same roof? In that mansion?"
I nodded. "East wing guest suite. But… she controls everything. My phone. My schedule. What I wear. Who I talk to. Yesterday she made me get on my knees in her bedroom and thank her for the 'new life.' Told me if I step out of line, Roman's video goes viral and I lose everything."
Marcus ran a hand through his hair, pacing. "Holy shit, Noah. This is insane. You can't stay there. Come crash at my place. My parents won't care. We'll figure something out—maybe talk to the Dean again, expose what she's really doing—"
"No." I cut him off sharply. "I can't. If I leave, she'll ruin me. And my mom… she's finally hopeful about something. She thinks this is my big break. If I lose the scholarship now, after everything she's sacrificed—the night shifts, the bills—she'll break. I can't do that to her."
Marcus stopped pacing and looked at me hard. "So you're just going to let Seraphina own you? Live in her house, follow her around school like a pet, let her play whatever twisted game this is?"
I swallowed, throat tight. The memory of her fingers in my hair, her breath against my ear, the way my body had reacted even while my mind screamed… it all flooded back.
"I don't have a choice right now," I said, voice rough. "But I'm not disappearing. I'm surviving. Just… give me time. Don't push her. Don't make it worse."
Marcus shook his head, frustration etched deep. "You're playing with fire, man. And she's the one holding the matches. If she burns you alive, don't say I didn't warn you."
He pulled me into a rough, quick hug anyway—loyal as always—then stepped back.
"Text me if you need an escape plan. Or if she goes too far. I'm still your friend, even if you're currently her bitch."
I managed a weak, bitter laugh. "Thanks."