A Job!?

Leo's Pov

By the time fifth period rolled around, I'd realized that trying to be a ‘normal boy’ at Sterling Academy was like trying to blend in while wearing a neon sign. 

The morning classes had been an exercise in psychological warfare. I sat at the back of AP Art History, staring at the slide presentation of Renaissance sculptures, but i couldn't focus. 

All I could see was Damien Sterling's frozen grey eyes staring down at me. Eveytime a student whispered in the hallway, I was convinced they were counting down the minutes until my scholarship got revoked. 

“Don't let them get to you,” I muttered to myself, aggressively stabbing a fork into my homemade chicken salad. Mom had promised me she would make them for me today, not for showoff but I just really loved to have them. 

The other students sat at pristine white tables under the shade of manicured willow trees, laughing over catered meals. I kept my head down, pulling out my phone to check the only one place where I actually felt like someone. 

I opened the creator dashboard for The Horizon Line. The notification feed was a comforting warmth against the icy reality of this school. I tapped on my direct messages and scrolled back to an older message from @GoldenHour_98, sent during a brutal week last semester when I was working double shifts and ready to delete the entire comic.

​@GoldenHour_98: Your characters have so much heart. Please don't stop drawing. Chapter 42 saved me during a very dark time. I hope you know your art matters to people.

I let out a slow, steady breath, staring at the words. Whoever this person was, thousands of miles away behind a screen, they understood my soul. They didn't care about my scuffed shoes or my bank account. Holding onto that thought was the only thing keeping my jaw set as the final bell of the day rang.

And now it was time to face the consequences of my actions. At this moment, I know I've broken mom's heart, even my brother and Maya's own, how will they feel when they hear my scholarship had been revoked?. But that won't jolt me, afterall I can always retake the exams again. 

The Student Council wing was located on the top floor of the main building, behind a set of double frosted-glass doors that looked like they belonged to a high-end corporate law firm. 

I pushed them open, my backpack heavy on my shoulders, I was really ready to fight, I won't let them see me as a mummy's boy. 

My eyes landed on a figure sitted at the second end of the reception desk, but the person wasn't the icy President. 

“Ah, the legendary rebel arrives,” a cheerful voice called out. 

Sebastian Sterling was leaning back in an ergonomic leather chair, spinning a gold pen between his fingers. He didn't have his blazer on, his white shirt was causally unbuttoned at the collar, and his dazzling smile instantly took the defensive edge off my shoulders. 

“Hey,” I said cautiously, halting in the middle of the plush rug. “I'm here for….whatever punishment he is doling out.” 

Sebastian laughed, a warm, easy sound that made the room feel a little less intimidating. “Don't worry, Leo. Damien's just running late from a meeting with our grandfather. And trust me, nobody survives a meeting with the old man without a few emotional bruises. My brother's bark is worse than his bite.” 

I walked closer, setting my bag on a chair. “He seemed pretty ready to bite this morning—over a chair.” 

“Hmm….it's not about the chair, it's just that he takes his position very seriously, maybe a little too seriously. But between you and me?” Sebastian leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I thought what you said was brilliant, nobody had talked back to him like that since we were ten.” 

A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips. For the first time all day, the tight knot in my chest loosened. Sebastian felt safe, he was kinda real. Before I could answer, the frosted-glass doors swung open with a sharp, heavy click. 

The warmth in the room vanished immediately. Damien stood in the doorway, he looked exactly like this morning—tall, immaculate, and terrifying unreadable. 

His charcoal eyes landed on me first, then sharply to Sebastian who was still leaning closely to my space. I noticed the tight lines around his mouth sharpened. I noticed his fingers twitched against the leather handle of his briefcase. 

“Sebastian,” Damien said, his voice came out low and authoritative. “Leave us.” 

Sebastian didn't move immediately, he gave me one last reassuring wink before standing up. “Be nice, brother, he's a guest.” 

As Sebastian brushed past him, Damien didn't look at him. He kept his eyes locked on me, his chest rising and falling in tight, shallow breaths. The door clicked shut behind Sebastian, leaving the two of us in a suffocating silence. 

Damien walked over to his large mahogany desk, setting his briefcase down with a dull thud. He didn't look at me, he just stood there with his back turned, his shoulders rigid. 

"Look," I broke the silence, my defensive walls instantly slamming into place. I refuse to stand here and wait for him to lecture me. "If you brought me up here to threaten my scholarship over a chair, just say it out loud. I sat down because the row was empty. I didn't know your family owned the seating chart along with the building."

My sarcastic words cut through the quiet room like a knife. Damien’s entire body went completely rigid at the sound of my voice. For a long, terrifying moment, he didn't move. Then, he slowly turns around to face me.

His face was a mask of cold fury, his eyebrows drawn together into a deep, intimidating scowl. 

But as I looked closer, I noticed something strange. His chest was heaving slightly, taking rapid, shallow breaths. His hands were buried deep inside his uniform pockets, but the fabric were shaking. He isn't just angry, he looks like he’s fighting to breathe.

"You publicly embarrassed the Student Council, Vance," Damien said, his voice coming out gravelly, deep, and completely forced. He stepped around the desk, closing the distance between us until he was towering over me.

"I sat in a chair," I fired back, refusing to step away from him. I raised my chin, meeting his icy grey eyes with pure heat. "That's not a crime, your wealthy little fan club just needs to get a grip."

"At this academy, it is an insult to the rules," Damien snaps back, his voice dropping an octave, harsh and heavy. He looks down at my face, his grey eyes suddenly flicking down to my right hand.

I instinctively curled my fingers into a fist, hiding the black ink smudges on my skin, but his gaze lingered there for a fraction of a second. A strange, sharp flash went through his eyes—something raw and desperate that doesn't look like anger at all. It disappears so fast I think I imagined it, replaced instantly by that unyielding, cold stare.

"You don't understand how things work here, Vance," Damien said, his voice tight, as if he's forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "You think you can just keep your head down and ignore the system. You can't. Your little stunt this morning proved that you are completely unprepared for the reality of this school."

"So what?" I hissed, my blood boiling with pure resentment. "Are you going to kick me out?"

"No," Damien says flatly, his face completely blank. "You are going to fix the disruption you caused."

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a crisp, official document, and slammed it onto the desk between us.

I looked down at the bold, elegant text printed at the top of the page. My jaw dropped as the words registered in my brain.

It wasn't a suspension notice, not a detention slip.

It’s an official contract appointing me as the paid Student Council assistant.

"What is this?" I whispered, completely stunned, my anger turning into pure confusion.

"You don't have a choice, Vance," Damien said, his voice sounding completely ruthless. "The scholarship board requires all tier-one recipients to fulfill an on-campus service requirement if requested by the executive council. Refuse, and I will personally review your scholarship enrollment status."

I looked from the paper back up to his frozen, beautiful face, a deep sense of dread settling into my bones. He isn't letting me go. He’s dragging me straight into his world, trapping me under his thumb just to prove he has the power to do it.

​He was threatening my scholarship. He was threatening my family's future, my mom's sacrifices, my one ticket out of poverty—all over an unwritten rule about a chair. He was the exact definition of a monster.