Chapter 6

MARY'S POV

The morning sun of Chicago pierced through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, waking me from a restless sleep on the sofa. I sat up, my eyes immediately locking onto the walk-in closet across the room.

Last night, I had almost run away.

But this morning, as the arrogant face of Henry and the pitying smile of Scarlett flashed through my mind, something inside me hardened.

I stepped off the sofa and walked straight into the closet. If Ryder Vance wanted a show, then I was going to give him one.

"Fine," I whispered to the empty room. "I’ll return to campus. And I’ll do it beautifully."

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, the girl staring back at me no longer looked like the bankrupt ex-fiancée Henry had abandoned at the hockey arena.

She looked like revenge.

A black high-waisted skirt hugged my curves perfectly beneath a tailored cashmere coat. My chestnut hair cascaded down my shoulders in soft waves, framing makeup so flawless that even Scarlett Harrington would choke on her own jealousy.

For the first time in weeks, I finally looked like myself again.

Since I was a little girl, I used to dream about moments like this. Walking beside Henry. Becoming his princess. But today, that fairy tale had spun a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees into a thrilling nightmare.

Because the man waiting for me outside wasn't Henry.

He was the villain, Ryder Vance.

And somehow, that realization terrified me far more.

My fingers tightened around my Chanel lipstick tube as I stepped into the penthouse's private garage. The heavy glass doors slid open silently, revealing a matte-black Lamborghini Revuelto.

And leaning against it was Ryder.

Black leather jacket. Black shirt. Black slacks.

Everything about him screamed ruthless power.

His dark eyes lifted the second I walked closer. I pretended not to notice the way his gaze dragged slowly, intentionally over every inch of my body. My pulse raced uncontrollably, so I pulled out my compact mirror, pretending to check my lipstick one last time just to ground myself.

But through the reflection of the tiny glass—

I caught him staring at me again.

Not casually. Slowly. Intensely. Like he wanted to ruin me just by looking.

"You clean up nice, Princess," Ryder murmured. His voice was low and rough enough to send a sudden rush of heat crawling straight up my spine.

I snapped the compact shut with a sharp click.

"I didn't dress up for you," I said coldly.

A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Good," he drawled lazily, his dark eyes flashing. "Because if you did, I'd never let you leave this car."

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching in my throat as I brushed past his massive frame to get into the passenger seat.

God.

I hated this man.

---

The vicious roar of the Lamborghini’s V12 engine echoed like thunder as it tore onto Kingsley’s campus.

Heads turned instantly. Students froze in their tracks.

The courtyard, which was usually bustling with morning chatter, suddenly erupted into a frenzy of frantic whispers.

"No fucking way..."

"Is that Ryder Vance? The Canadian hockey captain?"

"Yeah, I heard his billionaire dad dragged him back to Chicago and forced him to transfer here."

"Wait... who's the girl in the passenger seat?"

"Holy shit. IS THAT MARY COLLINS?!"

Phones immediately shot into the air. Cameras flashed and recording lights blinked like wildfire as the matte-black beast stopped arrogantly right in front of the business faculty building.

Ryder stepped out first.

The entire campus practically stopped breathing. Every single pair of eyes was glued to him as he casually walked around the hood of the car. The scissor door lifted smoothly into the air, and Ryder held out his large, tattooed hand toward me.

I took a deep breath, placed my trembling fingers into his firm grip, and stepped out in my Louboutins.

The silence that fell over the courtyard was deafening.

Ryder didn’t step back to give me space. Instead, he braced his free hand against the top of the open door, trapping me effortlessly between the sleek car and his massive frame. From the outside, the proximity probably looked painfully intimate.

He leaned down, his dark eyes dropping to my lips. His face angled closer, teasing the crowd with the illusion that he was about to claim my mouth right there in front of the whole world.

My heart slammed frantically against my chest, but my survival instinct kicked in. I raised my free hand, my fingers pressing firmly under his hard jaw, stopping him mere inches from my lips.

"No kissing," I hissed under my breath, though I kept a flawless, unaffected smile on my face for the audience watching us.

Ryder paused. A dangerous, thrilling smirk slowly curved against my fingers.

"How are we supposed to sell this relationship if you keep acting like you want to stab me?" he whispered, his warm breath fanning across my cheek and sending a shiver down my neck.

I held his intense gaze, lifting my chin defiantly. "I can be convincing without throwing myself at you."

A low, dark chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating through the small space between us.

"We'll see about that, Princess."

---

Ryder’s hand slid to my lower back, guiding me through the double glass doors of the business faculty. The crowd of students parted automatically, making way for us.

And right at the end of the corridor, I saw them.

Henry and Scarlett.

They had just stepped out of a classroom. Scarlett’s hand was clinging affectionately to Henry’s arm, as usual. But the moment they heard the commotion and turned their heads toward us, they stopped dead in their tracks.

I could clearly see the blood instantly drain from Scarlett's face. Her eyes widened, fixated on the designer outfit I was wearing and the fact that I looked far more radiant than I ever did as the heiress of the Collins Group. Pure insecurity radiated from every line of her stiffening body.

But Henry’s reaction was a masterpiece.

His jaw dropped. His face slowly flushed a deep red—a volatile mix of shock, confusion, and explosive jealousy. His eyes locked onto my hand, then shifted to Ryder’s face with a flash of pure rage. Impossible, I read the word forming on his lips.

Losing his mind, Henry yanked his arm away from Scarlett and took long strides toward us. Scarlett hurried after him, desperate not to lose control of her new boyfriend.

"Mary...?" Henry’s voice choked as he stopped a few feet in front of us. He stared at me in sheer disbelief. "What the hell is this?"

Before I could even answer, Scarlett stepped forward, crossing her arms over her chest with a forced, condescending smile.

"Well, well, well... Mary," Scarlett hissed. "You really have no shame, do you? After being dumped by Henry, now you're begging and targeting Ryder Vance? Have you really sunk that low?"

I looked Scarlett up and down with a blank stare. I wasn't angry. I wasn't trembling like yesterday. Standing beside Ryder's lethal aura gave me absolute composure.

"I didn't realize my life was still your obsession, Scarlett," I replied, my voice smooth as silk but razor-sharp. "But considering you always love picking up the discarded trash I throw away, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Scarlett's face burned with fury, while Henry’s jaw clenched tight at being called 'trash'.

"Watch your mouth, Mary!" Henry snapped. He glared at me with wounded, angry eyes. "You think Ryder cares about you? Stop embarrassing yourself. He's only using you!"

Scarlett let out a harsh scoff, her jealousy completely overriding any remaining shred of decency. "Let her be, Henry. If she has to spread her legs for the Vance Group heir just to pay her mother’s hospital bills, let her. It's not like she has any dignity left—"

SMACK!

The sound of the slap echoed loudly, instantly silencing the entire corridor.

My hand still hovered in the air. I hadn't slapped her out of explosive anger, but with cold, elegant disgust. Scarlett’s head was thrown to the side, her cheek immediately blooming into a red welt in the exact shape of my handprint.

Everyone gasped in horror. Henry froze.

"How dare you—!" Scarlett shrieked hysterically. Her eyes flashed with pure hatred as she instantly raised her hand, preparing to slap me back with full force.

I didn’t even blink.

But before Scarlett’s hand could touch a single hair on my head, a large, tattooed hand clamped around her wrist in mid-air. The grip was so crushing that Scarlett winced in pain.

Ryder.

He stared down at Scarlett with eyes so pitch-black and lethal that the temperature in the corridor felt like it dropped ten degrees.

"I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, Harrington," Ryder’s baritone voice vibrated with pure threat. "Or I'll break them myself."

Ryder shoved her hand away roughly, as if she were a contagious disease. Scarlett stumbled backward, cradling her wrist as tears of fear began to pool in her eyes.

Seeing his girlfriend manhandled, Henry finally snapped. He stepped up, puffing his chest out to challenge Ryder. "Don't you dare touch her, Vance! And let go of Mary! This is none of your business!"

Instead of backing down, Ryder stepped forward, invading Henry’s personal space with his much more massive and dominant frame. With a highly possessive and deliberate movement, Ryder wrapped his solid arm around my waist, pulling my back flush against his broad chest in front of everyone.

Ryder’s lips curved into a wickedly satisfied smirk.

​"Didn't anyone tell you, Davis?" Ryder whispered, holding Henry’s gaze with deadly calm. "Mary Collins is mine now."