Five months into their final year, Hillwood University was almost unrecognizable. At its heart stood the towering glass-and-steel structure—the Student Innovation Pavilion—gleaming like a jewel under the early morning sun.
Today marked its official opening.
What started as a sketch from Selene’s desk had evolved into a landmark achievement. Students from every discipline were now buzzing with excitement to showcase their inventions, artistry, research, and passion projects to the world.
The event had attracted a vast audience—students, professors, corporate executives, government officials, and prominent figures from Central City, West City, Portbay, and other major urban centers. The Pavilion was alive with color, movement, and a sense of possibility.
And at the heart of it all, the members of the Hillwood Investment Club—the minds behind the Pavilion—worked tirelessly to ensure everything ran smoothly.
Clint and Wendy were stationed at the business networking zone. Clark and Lucas were guiding CEOs through tech exhibits. Irene, Maya, Kairo, and Lana were handling the media and partnership tables, their charisma and professionalism shining through every conversation.
Selene, however, kept to herself—monitoring logistics, assisting presenters, and quietly moving between booths, always one step ahead but never in the spotlight.
The Pavilion’s grand design and purpose had already drawn attention weeks before its launch. But no one expected that one of the guests would stop the entire event in its tracks.
A sleek black car pulled up to the university’s private entrance. The security detail was subtle but undeniable.
Kian Mondiego had arrived.
Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire as students and staff turned to catch a glimpse of the man dubbed the Youngest Trillionaire in Business History. A former civil engineer turned corporate legend, Kian was only in his mid-20s but already the Chairman of the massive Mondiego Empire.
His presence wasn't just headline-worthy—it was seismic.
Even the club members paused, exchanging excited and bewildered looks.
“Wait… Is that really Kian Mondiego?” Wendy whispered, clutching Maya’s arm.
Clark whistled low. “What’s he doing here?”
“He rarely attends public events,” Lana murmured, stunned. “Not unless it’s something major. This… this might be bigger than we thought.”
Selene, standing at the second-floor overlook, saw the commotion below. Her grip on the railing tightened as Kian stepped into the Pavilion, dressed in his signature minimalist style, the weight of a legacy in his gaze.
She had known he was coming. He didn’t confirm it—he never did. But she’d felt it in the way the security arrangements had shifted this morning, the subtle nod from the university board, the added formality in the protocol.
He was here.
But no one around her knew the truth.
Not Lana, not Sebastian, not Kairo or Wendy or anyone else in the club. To them, Kian was just an icon. To Selene… he was family.
And she had no intention of revealing that today.
“Selene, are you okay?” Kairo asked, catching her alone near the control room.
She blinked and forced a smile. “Yeah, just a little overwhelmed.”
“Everyone’s talking about him. You know… Kian,” he said. “He stopped by Clint and Wendy’s booth. Gave them his card. Can you believe that?”
“That’s great,” she said, her voice even.
“You should meet him. Pitch your solar blueprint idea. He seems really interested in student-led solutions.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Meanwhile, Kian moved effortlessly through the Pavilion, escorted by the university president and a few deans. He took his time with each booth, engaging with students, asking sharp questions, and offering unexpected praise. He wasn’t here just for show—he was scouting, watching, noting.
Eventually, he made his way to the club’s central booth.
Sebastian was quick to greet him, joined by Lana and the others.
“We’re honored to have you here, sir,” Sebastian said, offering a handshake.
“I’ve been following the progress of this Pavilion,” Kian replied, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s impressive. Efficient execution, excellent outreach strategy. Who led the design?”
The club members exchanged looks.
“It was Selene,” Lana answered. “She’s in charge of logistics today, though.”
Kian gave a slight nod. “I’d like to meet her.”
“I’ll go get her,” Kairo offered, already stepping away.
But Kian gently raised a hand. “No need. I’ll find her later.”
And he did.
He found her by the east wing garden deck, alone, sorting a set of feedback forms.
“You’ve done well,” he said quietly, his tone different now—less business, more personal.
Selene didn’t turn to face him. “I told you not to come.”
“I know. But I wanted to see it myself.”
“They don’t know,” she added. “And I want to keep it that way.”
He nodded, stepping closer, his voice soft. “You’ve built this with your own name. I respect that. I won’t say a word.”
Selene finally glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “Thank you… for everything you did behind the scenes.”
“You did the work. I just gave it the chance it deserved.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the Pavilion pulse with energy. Selene allowed herself a small smile, pride flickering in her eyes.
“Still hiding from your legacy?” he teased gently.
“Not hiding,” she replied. “Just choosing when to reveal it.”
And Kian smiled. 
She really was a Mondiego—through and through.