You Will Learn To Live Together.

CHAPTER TWO 

SOREN'S POV 

"Are you out of your mind?" Dante demanded, his voice sounded across the marble floor of the lobby.

The staff member merely adjusted his glasses, completely unfazed by the sudden outburst. "I do not create the curriculum, Mr. Valez. I only enforce the housing regulations. You are both assigned to Suite 417, and you are officially registered as co-directors for the Vanguard Initiative."

"I am not partnering with a Kade," Dante stated, turning his back to the reception desk and dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Call the dean. Get my family's legal team on the phone. This is a massive conflict of interest."

"The dean is the one who approved the pairing," the older man replied calmly, sliding the printed document closer to the edge of the counter. "The board believes that if the heirs of two warring financial empires cannot navigate a simple academic incubator, neither is fit to manage real corporate assets."

I stared at the black ink on the page, reading our names printed side by side under the Vanguard letterhead. 

The trap was flawlessly executed. 

Blackridge was famous for breaking the egos of wealthy students, and forcing the Kade and Valez dynasties to cooperate was exactly the kind of twisted psychological test this university thrived on.

"Expulsion from the program is not an option," I said, looking away from the paper and directing my attention to Dante. "My father expects me to bring home the Vanguard trophy. I am not throwing away a multi-billion-dollar networking opportunity just because you lack basic tolerance."

Dante stepped closer. "Your father is a corporate parasite. I would rather fail out of this entire institution than spend the next six months pretending to play nice with his son."

"Then fail," I countered, picking up the document and folding it into perfect thirds. "Pack your bags, call your driver, and explain to your mother why you surrendered your position in the most elite business program in the world on the very first day. I am sure Valez Holdings will appreciate your sacrifice."

Dante glared at me, stepping directly into my personal space and standing  above me by an inch. 

He radiated absolute hostility, clearly waiting for me to back down or show a single sign of intimidation. 

"You are a calculative bastard," Dante said quietly. 

"I am practical," I replied, holding his gaze without retreating a single step. "We are going back upstairs. We are going to divide the room, and we are going to figure out how to survive this project without destroying each other."

Dante held the standoff for ten agonizing seconds before spinning around and marching toward the elevators, leaving me to follow in his wake. 

We rode the elevator back to the fourth floor in absolute silence. The stifling atmosphere inside the metal box felt entirely different from our first trip down. 

Before, it was merely annoyance. 

Now, it was a mutual realization that we were trapped in a high-stakes corporate game, and our families' legacies were dangling right over the edge. 

Dante pushed the door to Suite 417 open, walking straight inside and tossing his room key onto the small glass coffee table in the center of the living area. 

"The right side is mine," Dante announced, pointing toward the window overlooking the southern courtyard. "Do not cross the center rug, do not touch my belongings, and do not ever speak to me unless it is strictly regarding this ridiculous project."

"That arrangement suits me perfectly," I said, walking to my designated side of the room and sitting at the pristine oak desk. 

I opened my laptop, ignoring the chaotic sound of Dante aggressively shoving clothes into a wardrobe behind me. 

My phone vibrated against the wood surface, the screen illuminating with an incoming call. 

Victor Kade.

I picked up the device and accepted the call, bringing it to my ear. "Hello, Father."

"I just received the preliminary briefings from the Vanguard board," my father's voice came through the speaker, crisp and entirely devoid of warmth. "They paired you with the Valez boy."

"I am aware," I said, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dante was still occupied on his side of the room. "I just received the notification from housing."

"This is not a setback, Soren, it is an opportunity," Victor continued, his tone carrying the same ruthless authority he used in boardrooms. 

"The Valez family operates on emotion and reckless aggression. Isabella has barely kept their company afloat since the scandal. You will use this project to expose his incompetence. You will dominate the partnership, take the credit for the victories, and ensure the investors see exactly why Kade Capital remains superior."

"Understood," I replied, organizing my pens into a straight line next to my keyboard. "I will manage him."

"Do not just manage him," my father corrected quickly. "Break him. The Vanguard trophy belongs to us."

The line went dead. 

I set the phone face-down on the desk, exhaling a slow breath. The pressure of my family's empire was a constant, suffocating reality. I was not just a student; I was a weapon forged to maintain a legacy. 

"Taking orders already?" Dante asked from across the room, leaning against his bedframe with a mocking smirk. "Let me guess. Your father told you to crush the enemy and steal the glory."

"My father expects excellence," I stated, turning my chair to face him. "Something your family clearly struggles with."

Dante took a quick step forward, his arrogant smile vanishing instantly. "You really want to start a war right now, Kade? Because I guarantee you will not win."

Before I could deliver a response, both of our phones chimed simultaneously. The synchronized notification echoed loudly in the quiet room. 

I picked my device back up, swiping open the new email from the Vanguard Initiative administration. 

It was our first official directive as co-directors, outlining the target company we were expected to salvage and pitch to the investor board by the end of the month.

I scanned the attached financial documents, a cold spike of dread hitting my stomach as I read the name of the subsidiary corporation. 

"You have got to be kidding me," Dante muttered, staring at his own screen. 

He looked up, meeting my eyes across the room, the hostility between us momentarily replaced by sheer shock. 

The university hadn't just paired us together. 

They had assigned us to manage the exact same shell corporation that collapsed twenty years ago—the very company that ignited the war between our families.