Lucian sat in the corner booth of a café three blocks from Goldridge Academy, stirring his espresso with deliberate slowness. The place was quiet, tucked away from the main streets—the kind of spot where people went when they didn't want to be found.
Perfect.
Across from him sat a man in his early thirties, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed corporate money. He had the kind of face you'd forget five minutes after meeting—generic, forgettable, which was probably the point.
"You're late," the man said, not looking up from his tablet.
"Traffic," Lucian replied smoothly, though they both knew it was a lie.
The man finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "The forum post. That was you?"
Lucian's smile was slow, dangerous. "I had help. But yes, the execution was mine."
"And the evidence?"
"Compiled over six months," Lucian said, leaning back. "Screenshots, recordings, testimonies. All verified. All authentic."
The man nodded, tapping something on his tablet. "Your father will be pleased. Langston Enterprises has been trying to discredit the Langston family's academy branch for years. This gives him the leverage he needs."
Lucian's smile didn't waver, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "My father doesn't need to know the details. Just the results."
"Agreed." The man slid an envelope across the table. "First installment. The rest when Kevin Langston is fully removed from the academy's social structure."
Lucian took the envelope, weighing it in his hand before tucking it into his jacket. "He's already halfway there. Give it another week."
The man stood, buttoning his jacket. "And the Vale boy? Your childhood friend?"
Lucian's expression didn't change. "What about him?"
"He's become... unpredictable. If he interferes with the timeline—"
"He won't," Lucian said firmly. "Zion's focused on Kevin. He doesn't see the bigger picture."
"Let's hope it stays that way." The man turned to leave, then paused. "And the girl? Isla?"
Lucian's jaw tightened, just slightly. "She's not part of this."
"Make sure she doesn't become part of it," the man said, his voice carrying a warning. Then he walked out, disappearing into the afternoon crowd.
Lucian sat alone for a moment, the espresso cooling in front of him. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages from Isla—light, flirty, filled with emojis and inside jokes.
She had no idea.
And he intended to keep it that way.
Three Hours Earlier
Lucian had been in the Goldridge library, tucked into a study room on the third floor, when his phone buzzed with a message from Nyra.
Nyra: We need to talk. Roof. 10 minutes.
He'd stared at the message for a long moment before deleting it.
Nyra was smart—too smart. She'd figured out he wasn't just Zion's loyal childhood friend. She'd been watching him the same way she'd been watching Kevin.
When he arrived at the roof, Nyra was already there, leaning against the railing, her expression unreadable.
"You've been busy," she said without preamble.
"So have you," Lucian replied.
They stood in silence for a moment, two players sizing each other up.
"You're not doing this for Zion," Nyra said finally. "You're not even doing it for revenge."
Lucian smiled. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you don't care about Kevin," Nyra said, her voice flat. "You don't care about Zion, either. This is something else."
Lucian leaned against the opposite railing, arms crossed. "Maybe I just like chaos."
"Bullshit," Nyra said. "Chaos is my thing. You? You're methodical. Calculated. This is business."
Lucian studied her, impressed despite himself. "You're good."
"I know." Nyra stepped closer. "So here's the deal. I don't care what you're really after. I don't care if you're using Zion, using Kevin, using all of us. But if you get in my way—if you screw up what I've been building for two years—I will burn you."
Lucian's smile widened. "Noted."
"I'm serious," Nyra said, her voice dropping. "Kevin destroyed me once. I'm not letting anyone take this from me. Not even you."
Lucian nodded slowly. "Fair enough. But here's my counter-offer: we stay out of each other's way. You get your revenge. I get what I came for. Everyone wins."
"Except Kevin," Nyra said.
"Except Kevin," Lucian agreed.
They shook on it, a silent pact between two people who understood that loyalty was just another tool.
As Nyra walked away, Lucian pulled out his phone and sent a message to the man in the suit.
Lucian: Small complication. Nyra knows I'm not just here for Zion. But she's manageable. Proceeding as planned.
The response came seconds later.
Unknown: Handle it. No loose ends.
Lucian pocketed his phone, staring out at the city below.
No loose ends.
He'd been careful so far. Kept Isla close but not too close. Played the role of Zion's supportive friend without overstepping. Fed information to both sides when it suited him.
But the thing about playing multiple angles was that eventually, someone noticed.
And if Nyra had figured him out, how long until Zion did?
Present – Evening
Lucian walked back toward Goldridge, hands in his pockets, mind running through contingencies.
His phone buzzed. Isla.
Isla: Where have you been? Everyone's freaking out about the Kevin thing. You okay?
He smiled, typing back quickly.
Lucian: Just needed some air. This whole situation is intense. Want to grab dinner later?
Isla: Yes! Meet me at 7?
Lucian: Perfect.
He pocketed the phone, the smile fading.
Isla was sweet. Genuine. Everything this place wasn't.
And he was lying to her every single day.
But that's what this world demanded—lies wrapped in charm, betrayal dressed as loyalty.
By the time he reached campus, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Students clustered in groups, still buzzing about the forum post, about Kevin's suspension, about the cracks forming in Goldridge's perfect façade.
Lucian walked through them all, invisible by design.
No one suspected the quiet, charming transfer student.
No one saw the strings he was pulling.
And that's exactly how he wanted it.
Meanwhile – Kevin's Desperation
Kevin sat alone in his dorm room, surrounded by printed screenshots, notes scrawled in angry handwriting, names circled and crossed out.
He'd narrowed his suspects down to three: Zion, Nyra, and someone else—someone he couldn't quite place.
The evidence was too clean. Too organized. It had the fingerprints of multiple people, not just one vengeful ex-friend.
His phone buzzed. A message from one of his remaining loyalists.
Unknown: Found something. Lucian Park's been meeting with someone off-campus. Corporate type. Could be nothing, but thought you should know.
Kevin's eyes narrowed.
Lucian.
Zion's "childhood friend" who'd shown up out of nowhere, inserted himself into their world, played the role of neutral observer.
Too neutral. Too perfect.
Kevin stood, grabbing his jacket.
If Lucian was involved, that changed everything.
Because if Zion had brought in outside help, this wasn't just a school rivalry anymore.
This was war.