Chapter 3

One whole week.

It had been an entire week since I stepped foot inside Veyrmont Academy, and Lucas Veyrmont was still nowhere to be found.

At first, I thought he was just sick for a day or two. But a full week? Was he planning to miss the entire semester? My patience was running out. Every missed day was a day closer to my tuition deadline, and I couldn't afford to waste time.

To make things harder, my classmates had already found a favorite target to tease: me.

"Hey, Barbie Boy! Are you coming to the court or what?"

I looked up from my notebook. Two of my classmates were standing by the door, grinning at me.

Barbie Boy. That was my new nickname.

Because of my short height, pale skin, and soft face, they decided I looked like a male Barbie doll. I couldn't even get mad at them. I knew what I looked like. But hearing it every single day was starting to test my temper.

Still, I forced a light laugh. What choice did I have? I couldn't exactly tell them the truth—that they were right about one thing.

I really was a girl.

"Don't be jealous just because my skin looks better than yours," I joked back, tossing my pen onto the desk.

The guys laughed, shouting playfully as they walked out into the hallway. They weren't being cruel, just typical noisy teenage boys, but pretending to be one of them 24/7 was exhausting. Every movement, every laugh, every sentence felt like an act. One small slip, and my entire life would crumble.

I let out a soft sigh and sat back down.

Beside me, Alexander sat near the window, completely silent. His dark eyes were glued to a thick hardcover book, ignoring the loud classroom as if he were in a different dimension.

After sitting next to him for a week, I had learned his routine. He never talked to anyone unless forced to. He never joined the noisy group conversations. He barely left his seat, and most importantly—he never ate breakfast.

Today, I decided to change that.

"Good morning!" I said, placing a freshly wrapped sandwich and a cold bottle of water right on top of his open book.

Alexander paused. He slowly lifted his head, his dark gaze shifting from the food to my face. His expression was completely blank.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

"Breakfast," I said cheerfully.

"I can see that."

"Then why are you asking?"

He stared at me for a long moment. There was a faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes, but underneath it, he just looked confused. He didn't say another word, turning his gaze back down to his book.

I pressed my lips together, suppressing a groan. That sandwich had taken a huge bite out of my remaining allowance. Food at this elite academy was ridiculously expensive, but I had a strategy to execute.

Since I couldn't find Lucas, I needed to get close to Alexander first. They were cousins. If I could win Alexander over, he would eventually lead me straight to my real target.

"Just eat it," I urged, leaning closer. "I notice you skip breakfast every day. It's bad for your stomach."

"Did I ask you to buy me food?"

"No. I bought it because I wanted to."

"Then take it back."

I frowned, resting my chin on my hands. "You really hate accepting kindness, don't you?"

"I don't need it," he replied coldly.

"Well, too bad. Consider it a gift from your desk partner."

He looked up again, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. "Partner?"

"Yes. We sit together every day, don't we?"

He didn't answer. He just went back to reading, but I noticed something interesting. His fingers tightened just a little bit around the edges of his book. He wasn't as totally emotionless as he pretended to be.

A few minutes later, when I looked over, the sandwich was no longer on his book. It was placed neatly on the corner of his desk, wrapped open.

A small, victorious smile touched my lips. Step one, complete.

I glanced at the cover of his book, trying to find another way to break the ice.

Wait. I recognized that title.

"The Silent Kingdom?" I asked, pointing at the page.

His fingers froze again. "You know it?"

"Are you kidding? I've read it twice!" I smiled, leaning across the small gap between our desks. "The ending made me so mad, though!"

For the first time since I met him, Alexander closed his book completely. He turned his body toward me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with genuine interest.

"Why were you mad?" he asked softly.

"Because the prince trusted the wrong person!" I explained animatedly. "He had so many signs showing that his advisor was lying, but he kept ignoring them!"

Alexander looked at me quietly for a second. "Maybe he didn't want to believe that someone close to him could betray him."

I blinked, surprised by his words. His voice was quiet, but there was a strange, heavy depth behind it, as if he really understood that feeling.

"I guess," I admitted softly. "But if he had just listened to his true friend, he could have saved himself a lot of pain."

"If he did that, there wouldn't be much of a story, would there?" a faint, almost invisible trace of a smile hovered at the corner of his lips.

I let out a genuine laugh. "Okay, fair point."

For the rest of the morning, we actually talked. We talked about the plot, the author, and other fantasy novels. I realized Alexander wasn't actually cold or mean; he was just guarded. He didn't know how to start conversations, but when he talked about something he cared about, his cold wall completely melted away.

I was actually starting to like talking to him.

An hour later, our class moved to the gym for Physical Education.

"Alright, boys! Dodgeball today!" the coach shouted, holding up two large red rubber balls.

The class cheered. I grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. I wasn't the strongest or fastest guy in class, but I was small and quick. Dodging things was my specialty.

Once the game started, the gym turned into a battleground. Balls were flying everywhere, squeaking shoes echoed against the floor, and guys were shouting at the top of their lungs.

I ducked under one ball, jumped over another, and twisted my body to avoid a third.

"Target Barbie Boy!" someone yelled from the opposing team.

"Hey! That's not fair!" I laughed, stepping back as two balls smashed into the floor right where I had been standing a second ago.

"Nice dodge, Avery!" my teammate yelled.

I flashed a proud grin, my heart pumping with adrenaline. It was actually fun. For a moment, I completely forgot about my fake identity and the heavy secret I was carrying.

Then, I spotted Alexander.

He was standing near the back corner of the court, looking utterly lost. He moved slowly, clearly hating every second of this game.

Out of nowhere, a guy on the other team threw a heavy red ball straight toward Alexander's head with full force.

"Alexander! Watch out!" I screamed.

Alexander turned his head toward my voice, but it was too late.

The ball hit him hard right on the side of his face. His eyes went blank, his knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the wooden floor with a loud thud.

"Alexander!"

The game stopped instantly. A crowd of students rushed over, but I pushed my way through them, my chest tight with sudden panic.

"Give him air! Move back!" I yelled, kneeling beside him. "Alexander? Can you hear me? Hey!"

His eyes were closed, his face pale.

The coach ran over, quickly checking his pulse. "He's knocked out. Help me carry him to the clinic!"

Without thinking twice, I followed them all the way to the school clinic.

The clinic was quiet and smelled like rubbing alcohol.

The nurse checked Alexander, confirming he just had a mild concussion from the impact and needed rest. She left to get some ice, leaving me alone in the room with him.

I sat on the plastic chair beside his bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His usual neat hair was messy, falling over his forehead. Sitting there in the quiet room, without his cold, guarded mask, he looked surprisingly gentle.

I rubbed my tired arms. The high-stakes secret, the constant fear of getting caught, the endless pressure—it all felt heavy, but sitting here watching over him felt surprisingly peaceful.

A few minutes later, his eyelids fluttered open.

I immediately stood up, leaning over the bed. "Alexander? Are you okay?"

He blinked slowly, adjusting to the bright light, before his eyes focused on my face. "Where...?"

"You're in the clinic," I explained softly. "You took a dodgeball directly to the head."

He remained still for a second, then looked at me with a confused frown. "Why are you here?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? That's the first thing you say to the person who stayed here to make sure you didn't die?"

He didn't reply, but his gaze drifted down to my gym shirt, which was soaked with sweat from the game and the rush to get him here.

"You're covered in sweat," he murmured, his voice slightly raspy. "You smell like the gym."

"Hey! I was playing a sport before you decided to take a nap on the floor!" I crossed my arms, rolling my eyes. "A 'thank you' would be nice."

He slowly sat up, resting his back against the pillows. "I didn't ask you to stay."

"You're hopeless," I muttered, though I couldn't help smiling a little. "You're welcome, by the way."

He pointed toward the back door of the clinic. "There's a shower room back there for students who get hurt during P.E. Go wash up."

"Fine. But don't you dare leave while I'm in there," I warned him. "You need to stay put until the nurse gets back."

Alexander didn't answer, just staring at me with his usual unreadable expression.

I grabbed my spare uniform from my bag and walked into the small shower room at the back of the clinic. It was a simple space—a tiled stall with a basic plastic curtain for privacy.

I locked the outer door, tossed my clothes onto a bench, and stepped under the shower. The cool water felt amazing against my warm skin, washing away the sweat, dirt, and stress of the day.

I quickly washed my short hair, feeling refreshed. But as I reached for the soap bar on the metal rack, my wet fingers slipped.

The soap dropped, bouncing off the slick tile floor.

"Shoot," I muttered.

I stepped forward to grab it, but my bare foot landed directly on the slippery soap.

"Whoa—AH!"

My legs flew out from under me. I fell hard onto the wet floor, my elbow slamming against the wall with a loud, painful smack.

"Ouch!" I gasped, clutching my arm as pain shot through my elbow.

Suddenly, the outer door burst open.

"Avery? Are you okay?!"

My blood ran completely cold.

Alexander.

"Wait! Don't come in—!" I screamed, my voice cracking in pure panic.

But it was too late.

He pulled the plastic shower curtain aside, his face full of genuine concern.

And then, he froze.

Time completely stopped.

I was sitting on the wet floor, totally bare, clutching my bruised arm. The water was still spraying down on us, soaking his shirt as he stood at the edge of the stall.

His eyes widened in sheer, utter shock.

His gaze dropped from my face, taking in my wet, delicate shoulders, my narrow frame, and the unmistakably female curves of my body that were no longer hidden under loose, heavy clothes.

My heart didn't just race—it stopped beating entirely. Cold horror surged through every single nerve in my body.

"Alexander..." I whispered, my voice trembling violently as I frantically reached for the towel on the rack, pulling it to my chest.

Alexander stood there, completely paralyzed. The color slowly drained from his face, replaced seconds later by a deep, dark flush that rushed all the way up to his ears. His jaw fell open, his breath hitching in his throat.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

Looking into his shocked, wide eyes, I knew the brutal, terrifying truth.

It was over.

My disguise, my contract, my tuition money—everything was gone.

He knew.