The Rival's Secret Play

The scholarship was my only way out of Borikiri.

Every time I looked at my hands, I saw the blisters from helping Mum fry puff-puff under the hot sun. I saw the way her back bent a little lower every year. St. Jude’s Academy was supposed to be my ticket to a life where we didn’t have to worry about the next meal or the landlord’s heavy knocks.

That was why I was in the library at 11:00 p.m. while the other students were at a secret party in the dorms.

"Just ten more pages," I whispered to myself.

The ancient library was silent, smelling of old paper and expensive wax. I needed this A+. If my grades slipped even an inch, the board would snatch my scholarship away and hand it to some rich kid who didn't even know how to spell 'hard work.'

A heavy thud echoed from the back of the room.

My heart jumped. I wasn't supposed to be here this late. If the headmaster caught me, I was dead. I quickly blew out my small reading lamp and ducked behind a shelf of thick history books.

Clink. Clink.

That wasn't a teacher. It sounded like metal hitting metal.

I crawled on my hands and knees, moving toward the sound. I reached the Restricted Archive a place even the honors students couldn't enter. The heavy iron door was cracked open. A thin beam of light cut through the darkness inside.

I peered through the gap.

A tall boy stood in front of the school’s private vault. He was wearing a dark hoodie, but I knew that posture anywhere. He moved with a calm confidence that made my blood boil.

It was Maxwell Thorne.

The Student Council President. The "Golden Boy." The heir to the Thorne empire. He was the most powerful student at St. Jude’s, and he treated people like me like we were invisible ghosts.

Maxwell reached into the vault. His fingers wrapped around a velvet box. He opened it, and even in the dim light, the Founder’s Ring sparkled like a fallen star. It was worth more than my entire neighborhood.

He didn't hesitate. He stuffed the ring into his pocket.

My breath hitched. My foot shifted, hitting a heavy wooden stool. Thump.

Maxwell froze. He didn't run. He didn't panic. He slowly turned his head toward the door. His eyes were cold, sharp, and dangerously calm.

"I know you're there, Loveth," he said. His voice was like smooth silk over a jagged blade.

I stepped out from behind the door, my chest tight. My hands were shaking, so I balled them into fists. "You're stealing it. The Founder’s Ring."

Maxwell took a step toward me. He didn't look like the perfect student anymore. He looked like a predator. "Stealing is such a harsh word. Let’s call it... reclaiming."

"I'm calling the Headmaster," I said, backing away. "They’ll take your title. They’ll kick you out. You think you’re untouchable because of your name? Not tonight."

I turned to run, but Maxwell was faster. He lunged forward, his hand slamming against the door to block my exit. He was so close I could smell his expensive cologne, sandalwood and something dark.

"Go ahead," he whispered into my ear. "Tell them. But before you do, think about your scholarship, Loveth Amadi."

I stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"My father sits on the board," Maxwell said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "One phone call from me, and your files will vanish. You’ll be back in the mud of the city by sunrise. No degree. No future. Just another girl who couldn't make the cut."

"You wouldn't," I gasped. The air felt thin. Everything I had worked for was hanging by a thread.

"Try me," he challenged. His eyes searched mine, looking for the moment I would break.

I hated him. I hated the way he looked down at me. I hated that he was right. At St. Jude’s, his word was law, and mine was nothing.

"What do you want?" I spat.

"I didn't steal this ring for myself," Maxwell said, his gaze flickering toward the hallway. "And I need it back in that vault before the Gala on Friday. But I can't be the one seen with it. I need someone invisible. I need you."

"I'm not helping a thief," I snapped.

"You're not helping a thief, Loveth. You're saving your own life. If I go down, I'm taking you with me. I’ll tell them you were my accomplice. Who do you think they’ll believe? The Thorne heir, or the girl from the slums?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He pressed it into my palm. His skin was burning hot against mine.

"Meet me at the chapel tunnels at midnight tomorrow," he ordered. "Don't be late."

He pushed past me and vanished into the shadows of the library before I could even find my voice. I stood there, clutching the paper, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I looked down at the note. It wasn't a map.

It was a photo.

My stomach turned to ice. It was a picture of my mother at her stall in the market. There was a red circle drawn around her head.

He wasn't just threatening my scholarship. He was threatening my family.

A loud alarm suddenly cut through the silence of the school. The high-pitched wail echoed off the stone walls.

The vault alarm.

I looked back at the vault. It was wide open. Maxwell was gone. In three minutes, security would be here, and I was the only person standing in the room with an empty safe.

I had to move. Now.

I ran toward the back exit, but as I reached the heavy oak doors, they swung open.

"Stop right there!" a voice barked.

The beam of a high-powered flashlight blinded me. I raised my arm to shield my eyes, my heart stopping in my chest.

"Loveth?" Professor Alden’s voice was full of shock. "What have you done?"

Beside him stood Maxwell Thorne. He wasn't wearing his hoodie anymore. He was in his perfect school blazer, looking horrified.

"Professor," Maxwell said, his voice shaking with fake concern. "I saw her running from the archive. I tried to stop her, but I was too late."

He looked at me, and for a split second, a cruel smirk touched his lips.

"She has the ring," Maxwell said firmly. "Search for her."