Three days later, the same café in Central District held a very different energy. The espresso machine hissed faintly behind the counter as Dorian Leigh leaned back in his chair, an apologetic look on his usually smug face.
Sebastian Ford sat opposite him, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled as he listened in silence. He wasn’t known for patience, but today he gave Dorian all the time he needed to speak.
“She’s clean,” Dorian said finally, sliding a thin folder across the table. “Painfully clean. No criminal records. No secret affiliations. No weird offshore accounts.”
Sebastian opened the folder, his eyes flicking through the scant information. It was exactly what he already knew.
“Everyone knows her story,” Dorian continued. “Her mother died six years ago—cancer. Left her a restaurant business and a large inheritance. Selene didn’t squander it. She invested, expanded, built partnerships. All legit. Smart girl.”
“And the Parker name?” Sebastian asked, not looking up.
“No ties to any influential family in Central City. No old money. No hidden legacies. Just a name.”
Silence stretched between them.
“She really might just be… exactly who she says she is,” Dorian added.
Sebastian’s jaw ticked. “Or she’s good at hiding.”
Dorian chuckled. “Seb, if she’s hiding anything, it’s buried deeper than I can dig without blowing things up publicly. My advice? Let this one go.”
Sebastian gave him a long, unreadable look, then reached into his coat and pulled out a check. He scribbled an amount—less than their usual rate—and slid it across the table.
“For effort,” he said.
Dorian sighed but took it. “Take care, Ford.”
Sebastian stood and walked out without another word, the folder still in hand. As he exited into the cold spring air, he didn’t feel satisfaction. Nor did he feel defeated.
He felt… uncertain.
Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe he’d misjudged her.
But that didn’t mean he was done.
Selene Parker had stormed through every obstacle he’d laid out. She was dazzling and strategic. That made her dangerous.
So, he’d observe. He’d wait. He’d find the weak point. And when the time came, he’d strike.
---
Weeks passed.
Hillwood University bloomed in spring colors as final-year classes pushed into full swing. The Hillwood Investment Club remained the subject of every student’s curiosity, and Selene Parker was no longer just the new girl—she was the girl.
All eyes followed her through the halls. Professors nodded in respect. Juniors whispered her name with admiration. Even Lucas had taken to calling her “Miss Fortune.”
Everyone acknowledged her place.
Everyone except the Glam Girls Club Trio—Tiffany Lane, Jasmine Lee, and Chloe Rae. The self-proclaimed queens of the cheer and sports council. On this particular day, they saw an opportunity.
Selene had just taken her tray in the cafeteria. Warm soup. Fresh fruit. Bottled water.
She barely got two steps before the trio executed their plan.
Tiffany “accidentally” bumped her shoulder. Jasmine nudged the tray with a flick of her hand. Chloe’s water bottle just slipped.
Soup splashed across Selene’s white blouse. The tray clattered. Fruit rolled across the floor.
The entire cafeteria fell into a stunned silence.
Selene stood still, her shoulders rising and falling. Her blouse steamed slightly from the warmth of the soup—not scalding, but enough to be felt.
The Glam Girls Club trio looked smug.
Then a voice broke through the stillness.
“Move.”
Sebastian Ford.
He pushed through the crowd, his sharp gaze locked on the scene. Students instinctively stepped back as he reached the center. Without hesitation, he shoved past Tiffany, inspecting the damage.
“Are you okay?” he asked Selene, his voice low but clear.
She nodded slowly, brushing soup off her sleeves.
Lucas, Kairo, Lana, Irene, Wendy, and Maya arrived seconds later, having caught wind of the commotion.
“In case you forgot,” Maya said, stepping forward with fire in her eyes, “Selene is an official member of Hillwood Investment Club. You know—the club that actually funds your cheer uniforms, stadium repairs, and travel fees?”
“Check your handbook,” Lana added coldly. “Page 21. Respecting our club is mandatory. Because technically and financially, we fuel half of this school.”
“And disrespecting our members?” Kairo chimed in. “That’s a declaration of war.”
Tiffany tried to scoff, but her voice wavered. “She’s new. We thought she was still on probation. It’s just… a test.”
“Probation?” Lucas laughed. “There’s no probation in our club. She passed all three trials. She earned her place.”
The Glam Girls Club girls went silent.
Sebastian turned to face them, his voice colder than ever. “Whoever disrespects one of our members goes through me.”
No one argued.
Then, to everyone’s shock, Sebastian took Selene’s hand—deliberately—and led her out of the cafeteria. Not another word. Not a glance back.
The others lingered only a moment, then stayed behind to drive the point home with the Glam Girls Club.
Meanwhile, in the long, quiet hallway of the East Wing, Sebastian finally slowed his pace. Selene walked beside him, her blouse damp and stained, but her posture unbent.
He stopped near the doors of the club headquarters.
“Why didn’t you say anything back there?” he asked.
“Didn’t need to,” she replied simply. “They just showed everyone who they really are.”
He looked at her then—really looked. Calm, poised, unreadable. Just like the day she walked into the boardroom.
Maybe she was clean.
But even now, he wasn’t sure.
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ve got work to do.”
Selene walked in without hesitation.
And Sebastian followed, still watching. Still waiting.
Because this wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.