The golden boy of this campus.

Clara's POV

I stand at the edge of the university quad, fingers curled tight around the worn strap of my messenger bag. The campus is alive with the usual chaos—students darting between classes, laughter echoing from the steps of the library, and the scent of coffee drifting from the café. Normally, I’d feel at home here, comforted by the familiar rhythm of academia. But today, everything feels off. It's as if I'm walking onto a stage where the spotlight's glaring down, reminding me that there's no escaping the part I'm supposed to play.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. It’s just another semester—just classes, just lectures, just me and my goals. But the truth is, nothing is “just” anything anymore. Not since Mom married Richard Carter, not since Nolan Carter’s shadow loomed over my life like a dark cloud.

Nolan Carter. The very name sends a jolt of anger racing through my veins. He’s the type of guy who makes heads turn—tall, athletic, with dark hair that looks perpetually windswept and eyes the color of storm clouds. He’s the golden boy of this campus, the one every girl dreams about and every guy idolizes. Yet, beneath that charming exterior lies a cruel arrogance I’ve had the misfortune of knowing all too well.

I push the thought away, willing myself to move through the crowd toward the psychology building. Some deep-seated part of me yearns to believe I can keep my head down, focus on my classes, and pretend Nolan Carter doesn’t exist. But I know that’s naïve. He’s made it his personal mission to make my life hell, and today probably won’t be any different.

I enter the building, the murmurs of other students fading into the background as I brace myself for whatever chaos the day may bring. Jenna meets me at the door, her warm smile a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

“Hey, you made it!” She loops her arm through mine, pulling me into a quick hug.

“Barely,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I need all the distraction I can get this semester.”

Her expression morphs into concern for a split second. “So… did you see him yet?”

I know who she means without even having to ask. “No. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Good luck,” she snorts, her voice laced with indignation. “He’s been holding court in the student lounge. I bet half the girls are practically drooling over him as usual.”

I shake my head, exasperation simmering beneath the surface. “Let them. Maybe if they’re busy fawning, he’ll leave me the hell alone.”

Jenna gives me a look that clearly says she knows better. “You’re gonna have to confront him sooner or later, especially now that he’s your stepbrother.”

“What delightful family bonding it will be,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as we head into our first lecture. I barely manage to focus as the professor begins discussing the syllabus; my mind keeps drifting.

After class, we spill into the hallway, and the moment I spot Nolan, a wave of dread crashes over me. He’s leaning against the wall, casually engaging with a group of admirers, his laughter easily echoing across the crowded space. Time seems to slow, my heart racing in response to the sight of him.

I want to ignore him, to brush past and act like he doesn’t exist—but our eyes meet, and something twisted flares in his gaze, a mixture of amusement and malice. Then, as if putting on a show for everyone in the hallway, he steps forward.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite stepsister,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow as he blocks my way, smirking.

My stomach churns, but I force myself to stand tall. “Move, Nolan,” I demand, jabbing a finger toward him as I try to push my way past.

His smile widens as he leans in, invading my space. “Aw, come on, Clara. Don’t you want to catch up? We’re family now.”

His friends snicker, and humiliation flares across my cheeks. “You’re not my family,” I retort, my voice unwavering despite the tumult of emotions roiling inside me. “You’re just an inconvenience.”

Nolan’s gaze darkens, that predatory glint sending a shiver down my spine. “An inconvenience? Is that all you think of me, little girl?” He leans closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “I’ll show you who I really am.”

“What do you mean?” I snap, my heart racing faster now.

“Oh, you know,” he sneers, eyes glinting with amusement. “Just another little gold digger, following in your mother’s footsteps. I bet you learned a lot from her about how to latch onto a man for a comfortable life, didn’t you?”

I recoil at his words. They cut deeper than I want to admit. “Shut up, Nolan,” I fire back, through gritted teeth, my fists clenching at my sides. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Come on, Clara,” he mocks, glancing back at his entourage, who are thoroughly entertained. “It’s not like you’re hiding it. You’re just as much a whore as your mother. You think I haven’t seen the way you flirt with professors, trying to win favor? It’s pathetic.”

With that, a fresh wave of rage crashes over me. “You think you're better than me? You think you can just throw insults around like confetti and get away with it?”

He grins, a mixture of malice and delight. “I am better than you. At everything, Clara. I have what it takes to be successful, while you’re just a sad little girl relying on your mother’s leftovers.”

Each word is a blade, and I can feel the stares from passersby—some intrigued, some shocked. But it only feeds his arrogance. I take a deep breath, my heart racing wildly as I muster my shame into anger. “You’re a pathetic bully, Nolan. Hiding behind your looks doesn’t make you any less of a coward.”

The moment hangs in the air, thick with tension and unwarranted rage, and for just a fleeting second, I think he might back down. Yet he leans even closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “Listen closely, sweetheart. You’re nothing to me, just something to toy with. I’ll make your life hell if you keep getting in my way. How about that?”

My pulse pounds in my ears as I break our gaze, fuming. I turn sharply, ready to stride away, but he calls after me, his voice dripping with mockery. “Don’t cry too much, Clara. You’ll get used to it—just like your mother did.”

As I stalk away, the echoes of laughter and jeers swirl around me. But beneath the anger, there’s a flicker of something else I loathe even more: the awareness of how deeply his words layer beneath my skin. No matter how hard I try to shake it off, he always finds a way to get under my armor.