Chapter 6

“Vladimirovna de Silva, wake up! For goodness’ sake!”

A groggy groan slipped from Vlada’s lips as she buried her face deeper between her folded arms, the cold surface of the desk pressing against her cheek. She didn’t budge, even as Leila stood over her, tapping her shoulder for what had to be the tenth time.

“Vlada, seriously. It’s break time. I’m starving. You skipped breakfast and now you’re skipping lunch too? Do you have a death wish or something?”

Vlada mumbled, voice muffled by her sleeves. “Just five more minutes. I’m not hungry.”

“You always say that,” Leila huffed, plopping down beside her. “You’ve practically disappeared. Have you even looked in a mirror lately? Or are you too busy playing mom to your imaginary five kids?”

Vlada winced, slowly peeling herself off the desk like a half-deflated balloon. Her back cracked as she stretched, groaning softly.

Leila’s voice softened, but only slightly. “You’re twenty, not forty. Live a little.”

“I would,” Vlada said, brushing a hand through her disheveled hair, “if life weren’t so damn expensive.”

She didn’t say it out loud, but Leila knew. Knew that even with Fynn helping her out, Vlada refused to sit still and rely on anyone. Her pride came laced with exhaustion.

“Fine, I’ll eat,” she muttered, reaching for her bag. “But just a chocolate milkshake.”

Leila gawked at her like she’d grown another head. “A milkshake? That’s not food, Vlada, that’s dessert pretending to be a meal.”

Vlada gave a small smile. “Better than nothing.”

“Better than nothing?” Leila snapped. “You’re working two jobs, pulling all-nighters, acing your classes, and all you want is sugar in a cup? Just say you want to die so I can save you the trouble and push you off the roof myself.”

Vlada let out a dry laugh. “Relax. I’m fine.”

Leila narrowed her eyes. “You keep saying that, but I’ve got eyes too, you know. And what I see is a best friend who’s running on fumes and pretending she’s not.”

“I’m fine, Leila. Seriously,” Vlada said, her tone steady but worn thin. “You don’t have to babysit me. Look—” she lifted her hands, then her chest rose dramatically with a breath, “—still breathing, aren’t I?”

Her lips curled into something meant to be a smile, but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes.

The truth sat heavy in her chest. When you weren’t born cushioned in silk sheets and family trust funds, surviving meant hustling. There was no space to fall apart. If she slowed down, she'd starve. And Leila—bless her heart—would never truly get it. Not when her biggest problem was a broken nail or a bad batch of designer perfume.

Leila exhaled loudly, throwing her arms up. “Okay, fine. You’re stubborn as hell, so I won’t argue anymore.” She paused, eyes gleaming with something mischievous. “But—I have a brilliant idea.”

Vlada arched her brow. “Oh no.”

“Work for me,” Leila blurted out. “Seriously. I need someone I can trust. My maids—ugh—they keep messing with my stuff. One even stole my necklace last month. I’ve been cleaning my own room ever since.”

Vlada blinked, already suspicious.

“I’ll double your salary,” Leila added with a grin, clearly pleased with herself.

“Double?” Vlada scoffed. “No way. That’s too much. I’ll do it—but only if you stop with the VIP treatment.”

Leila rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Do I look like I care about your noble principles? I’m offering the job. The pay is my business. So? Are you in or not?”

Vlada leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a teasing smirk. “And if I say no?”

Leila gasped dramatically. “Then I’ll call your boss, tell her you quit, and leave you with no job. You’ll be left begging on the sidewalk, and I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

Vlada stared at her. “You’re insane.”

Leila cackled like a Disney villain. “I’m kidding. Sort of. But really—please. Take the job. I need you.”

Vlada chuckled under her breath and gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Leila squealed and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug just as a sharp throat-clearing echoed through the doorway.

Both girls froze.

Lazare stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Leila’s face instantly dropped to her default scowl. “What now?”

“Mom’s looking for you,” he said flatly.

“Ugh, fine.” She turned to Vlada, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “After class, wait for me at the covered court. We’ll head home together.”

Before Vlada could respond, Leila stormed off, dragging Lazare with her.

Left alone, Vlada reached up and gently pinched her cheek, staring after them.

Why does her brother have to be that handsome? she silently cursed, heart skipping as she shook her head in disbelief.

Vlada poked at her beef broccoli with her spoon, the cafeteria buzzing around her, but her corner felt oddly quiet. She usually didn’t mind eating alone—but this time, the solitude tasted a little bitter. She wasn’t risking another scolding from Leila, not after the milkshake incident. So here she was, chewing dutifully through real food like a model student.

Her fork paused mid-air as a familiar figure strode through the cafeteria doors. Lazare Ibañez—tall, effortlessly confident, with that sleepy smirk that made girls’ heads whip like sunflowers chasing the sun. He was flanked by his usual crew, all of them athletes, all of them maddeningly good-looking.

Vlada’s gaze snapped away before it could linger. She pretended to be interested in a group of girls near the vending machines, watching as they giggled into their hands and fixed their hair while Lazare walked past like a royal guard on parade. She didn't blame them. Everyone liked him—even her. Not that she’d ever admit that, especially not to Leila, who rolled her eyes every time someone brought up her brother.

“Hey!”

The voice pulled her out of her silent swooning.

She blinked up to find Fynn dropping into the seat across from her like he owned it.

“Oh—have you eaten?” she asked, straightening up.

“Not yet.” He grabbed her spoon. “But I guess I am now.”

Vlada rolled her eyes, nudging the tray toward him. He is her older brother. The only family she’d ever known. The details of their past had always been blurry. A car crash. No parents. No photos. Just him and her, surviving one day at a time.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, fiddling with her fork.

Fynn grunted in reply, too busy stuffing rice into his mouth.

“Leila offered me a job. Said she’ll pay me double. I said yes.”

Fynn’s chewing slowed. He set the spoon down like it suddenly weighed too much.

“No,” he said.

Vlada frowned. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean you’re not taking that job.” His voice had hardened, eyes narrowing with quiet warning.

“It’s just a housekeeping thing. I’ll be cleaning her room. That’s it. She said I won’t have to overwork anymore. I could study more—or maybe sleep like a normal person.”

He leaned back, shaking his head. “You don’t know their family, Vlada. You’ve only seen the sugar-coated version. The Ibañez name carries weight—but it’s heavy and dirty. I don’t trust them.”

“She’s not like that,” Vlada insisted, softer now. “And it’s just her and Lazare in the house most of the time. Their parents are barely around.”

Fynn let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a beat, he nodded, reluctantly. “Fine. But I’m picking you up every day. No exceptions.”

She shrugged. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night.”

He gave her a look. “And stay away from Lazare.”

The words hung between them, heavier than he probably intended.

Vlada forced a smile, nodding like it was no big deal. “Got it.”

But as Fynn returned to eating, she stared into her half-empty plate.

Stay away from Lazare.

Easier said than done—especially when the boy you’re supposed to avoid hasn’t even noticed you exist.