chapter 4: the professor's favorite: money

VALENTINA’S POV

There were three things I had learned about Blackwood University in less than forty-eight hours.

First, money could buy almost anything.

Second, a person's relationship status was apparently public property.

And third, if a handsome billionaire's son decided to make your life miserable, the entire university might applaud him while you were busy trying to survive your lectures.

Unfortunately, I was about to discover a fourth rule.

Sometimes, your intelligence isn't the problem. It's the fact that someone richer wants the prize.

"Tell me you have a plan," Chloe said, sitting cross-legged on my bed.

I stared at my laptop.

"What kind of plan?"

"The Adrian Blackwood survival plan."

I continued typing.

"My plan is to finish my assignment, attend my classes, graduate with excellent grades, and return home with enough qualifications to make my parents stop treating me like a financial investment."

Chloe blinked.

"That's a very boring plan."

"It's an excellent plan."

"It's missing revenge, romance, and at least one dramatic makeover."

I threw a pillow at her.

She caught it, laughing.

"Fine! But when Adrian Blackwood shows up at your wedding wearing a black suit and looking miserable because he has finally realised he loves you—"

"Chloe!"

"What? I'm simply respecting the laws of romance."

"There are no laws of romance."

"Tell that to the twelve girls currently fighting over the hockey captain's I*******m story."

I groaned.

My phone vibrated.

An email from Professor Kingsley appeared on the screen.

SUBJECT: BUSINESS LAW PROJECT — PAIR ASSIGNMENT

I opened it.

The assignment was worth fifteen percent of our final grade. We were expected to analyse a university scandal, prepare a written report, and present our findings before a panel of lecturers.

The highest-scoring team would receive an additional academic award and a recommendation for the university's prestigious Young Entrepreneurs Competition.

My eyes widened.

That competition was important. The winner would receive funding, mentorship, and an opportunity to pitch a business proposal to a panel of investors.

I had been planning to enter since the day I received my scholarship.

This was my chance.

Then I read the final paragraph.

All team members must contribute equally. Individual participation will be assessed.

I smiled.

Good.

Nobody was going to take credit for my work.

Not even Adrian Blackwood.

Especially not Adrian Blackwood.

### ADRIAN’S POV

My father called at eleven that morning.

I was in the hockey locker room, halfway through changing, when his name appeared on my screen.

I answered.

"What is it?"

"Is that how you greet your father?"

"Good morning, Father. Is that better?"

"Don't be childish."

I sat on the bench.

"What do you want?"

"I spoke with Dean Harrison yesterday. He tells me you're working on a project with the scholarship girl."

I stared at the opposite wall.

Of course he knew.

My father had connections everywhere. He knew which professor had divorced his wife, which student had been caught cheating, and which university administrator had a gambling problem.

Sometimes I wondered whether he had a secret room filled with cameras.

"It's a class assignment," I said.

"Then make sure you win."

"It's worth fifteen percent."

"Everything is worth winning, Adrian."

I rubbed my jaw.

"I'm not interested in discussing my coursework with you."

"Your mother would have expected more from you."

The words struck exactly where he intended.

My mother had been dead for years, but my father still knew how to use her memory like a weapon.

I stood.

"Don't bring Mum into this."

"Then give me something else to be proud of."

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

For several seconds, the locker room disappeared, and I was twelve again, standing in front of a man who believed affection was a reward for achievement.

I had promised myself I would never become like him.

Yet here I was, measuring my worth by every competition I entered.

"Everything okay?"

Mason stood in the doorway, his hockey bag hanging from one shoulder.

I locked my phone.

"Fine."

He gave me a look.

"You know, one day you're going to say you're fine and actually mean it. I intend to celebrate."

"Keep talking and I'll make you run extra laps."

"That's abuse of authority."

"Then report me."

He laughed.

I grabbed my bag.

"Have you seen the project brief?"

"Yeah. We're going to analyse a fictional scandal."

"Apparently, I'm paired with a girl who thinks I'm a medical emergency."

Mason grinned.

"Maybe she can diagnose you."

I shoved past him.

He followed, still laughing.

I hated that he found this amusing.

I hated that Valentina had managed to occupy so much space in my head.

And I hated the fact that I was already looking forward to arguing with her again.

### VALENTINA’S POV

Professor Kingsley's office smelled of coffee, expensive cologne, and the kind of confidence that came from knowing your students couldn't easily challenge you.

I stood beside his desk with my notebook pressed against my chest.

"Professor, I'd like to ask about the Young Entrepreneurs Competition."

He looked up from his computer.

"The competition is open to eligible students. The application requirements are on the university portal."

"I've read them. I wanted to confirm whether scholarship students can apply for the investor mentorship programme."

His expression changed slightly.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they?"

"I just wanted to be sure."

He leaned back.

"Miss Reyes, your grades are impressive. But academic performance isn't everything in the business world."

"I understand."

"Connections matter. Confidence matters. Presentation matters."

"I understand that too."

He smiled.

"Good. Because the competition attracts students from very influential families. Some of them have been preparing for years."

I waited.

He seemed to expect me to become discouraged.

Instead, I opened my notebook.

"I've prepared a proposal for a low-cost digital platform that connects small businesses with customers. I'd like to know whether it fits the competition criteria."

For the first time, he looked genuinely interested.

"Let me see."

I handed him the document.

He skimmed the first page, then the second.

"Hmm."

My stomach tightened.

"Is there a problem?"

"No. This is promising."

Relief warmed my chest.

Then he closed the document.

"I'll be honest with you, Miss Reyes. The competition is highly political."

I frowned.

"Political?"

"Some students have sponsors. Some have family connections. Others have access to resources you may not have."

"Shouldn't the strongest proposal win?"

He gave a short laugh.

"In an ideal world."

I stared at him.

Perhaps I had been naïve to think that intelligence would be enough.

But I wasn't going to let that stop me.

"Thank you for your time, Professor."

I collected my notebook and left.

As I reached the corridor, I heard voices coming from the adjoining office.

"Don't worry, darling. Your father and I will speak to the dean."

I recognised the voice immediately.

Seraphina Vale.

I slowed down.

Another voice answered, "The university has already received your application. You simply need to make sure your proposal stands out."

"I know," Seraphina said impatiently. "But I don't want to compete against people who actually understand business."

Her companion laughed.

"Then don't let them get far enough to challenge you."

I stopped breathing for a second.

The office door opened.

Seraphina emerged, holding a folder.

She saw me.

Her smile disappeared.

"Listening at doors now, scholarship girl?"

I straightened.

"I was walking past."

"Of course."

She glanced at the folder in my hands.

"Applying for the competition?"

"Yes."

She laughed.

Not a nervous laugh. Not an embarrassed one.

A genuine, dismissive laugh.

"Oh, Valentina. That's adorable."

I tightened my grip on my notebook.

"What's adorable about wanting to compete?"

"Nothing. I just think you should be realistic."

"About what?"

She stepped closer.

"People like us don't compete on the same playing field."

I looked at her carefully.

"You mean people who work hard and people who expect their parents to do everything for them?"

Her eyes flashed.

"Watch your mouth."

I smiled politely.

"Have a lovely day, Seraphina."

I walked away before she could respond.

My heart was pounding.

I wasn't frightened of her.

I was angry.

Because I had begun to suspect that the competition wasn't going to be a fair fight.

And I had no intention of losing quietly.

### MASON’S POV

If there was one thing I knew about Adrian Blackwood, it was that he was terrible at admitting when he was wrong.

He could apologise to a referee after punching another player, but he would rather eat broken glass than admit a woman had hurt his feelings.

So naturally, when I found him sitting in the library with Valentina Reyes, I knew the universe was preparing something entertaining.

Adrian had his laptop open.

Valentina had three textbooks, a notebook, and the expression of a woman reconsidering every decision that had brought her to this point.

"You're late," she told him.

Adrian checked his watch.

"I'm two minutes early."

"The agreed time was ten."

"It's 9:58."

"Exactly."

I stood behind a bookshelf, trying not to laugh.

Adrian leaned forward.

"Do you always argue about everything?"

"Only when the other person is wrong."

"That must make your life exhausting."

"You have no idea."

I nearly choked.

These two were going to kill each other before the semester ended.

Then Valentina opened her notebook.

"Let's divide the assignment. I'll handle the legal analysis and research. You can work on the case presentation and supporting evidence."

Adrian looked offended.

"Why are you assigning me tasks?"

"Because somebody has to organise this."

"I'm perfectly capable of organising things."

"Wonderful. Organise yourself into being useful."

I had to leave before they noticed me laughing.

Unfortunately, the real drama was about to begin.

Because I had just received a message from Seraphina.

SERAPHINA: Do you know what Valentina is planning for the competition?

I frowned.

ME: No. Why?

Her reply arrived almost instantly.

SERAPHINA: She thinks she's going to beat me.

I stared at the message.

Seraphina had always been competitive, but there was something different about the way she talked about Valentina.

This wasn't ordinary jealousy.

It was personal.

Then another message appeared.

SERAPHINA: I need a favour.

I should have ignored it.

Instead, I typed:

ME: What kind of favour?

Her response made my stomach drop.

SERAPHINA: I need to know what she's working on.

I looked through the gap between the bookshelves.

Valentina was explaining something to Adrian, her hands moving as she spoke. Adrian appeared irritated, but he was listening.

Really listening.

I had never seen him pay attention to a woman like that.

And suddenly, I had a very bad feeling about what was coming.

### VALENTINA’S POV

By Thursday, I had learned that group assignments were an excellent way to discover how much you disliked another human being.

Adrian and I had spent two hours arguing over the presentation format.

He wanted a sleek, expensive-looking slideshow.

I wanted a clear, properly researched report.

He wanted dramatic graphics.

I wanted sources.

He wanted to use his father's business connections to obtain industry statistics.

I wanted to know whether those statistics were publicly available and independently verifiable.

At one point, he stared at me across the library table.

"Do you ever relax?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When I'm not working with you."

He laughed unexpectedly.

It was the first time I'd heard him laugh without sounding cruel.

For a second, I almost forgot that I disliked him.

Then he leaned back in his chair.

"You know, you could try being nice."

"You could try earning it."

His smile widened.

"There she is."

"Who?"

"The girl who thinks she can defeat me."

I closed my notebook.

"This isn't a competition between you and me, Adrian. It's an assignment."

"Everything is a competition."

"That sounds exhausting."

"You've said that before."

"Because it's still true."

He studied me for a moment.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and the amusement vanished from his face.

"Excuse me."

He walked away to answer it.

I returned to my notes, determined not to become distracted by his mysterious moods.

A few minutes later, I went to the printer to collect our draft.

The machine made a horrible grinding sound.

Then it spat out a page that wasn't mine.

I picked it up.

It was a printed email.

SUBJECT: YOUNG ENTREPRENEURS COMPETITION — SPONSORSHIP CONFIRMATION

The message mentioned Seraphina Vale's application, a private meeting with a member of the judging committee, and a promise of financial support from her family's company.

I frowned.

Perhaps it was perfectly legitimate.

Rich students were allowed to have sponsors.

But one sentence caught my attention.

We trust that the final shortlist will reflect the university's strategic partnerships.

I read it twice.

Then I heard footsteps.

Adrian appeared beside me.

"What are you reading?"

I handed him the page.

He scanned it.

His expression became unreadable.

"Where did you get this?"

"The printer."

He looked toward the library's administrative desk.

"Don't show this to anyone yet."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"Because you don't know what it means."

"I can read, Adrian."

"And I can recognise trouble when I see it."

I took the page back.

"If the competition is being manipulated, we should report it."

"On what evidence? An email you found in a printer?"

"Then we investigate."

He stared at me.

"You really don't know when to leave things alone, do you?"

"No. Not when something is wrong."

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he lowered his voice.

"Listen to me, Reyes. People like Seraphina don't lose gracefully. If you accuse her without proof, she'll make sure everyone regrets taking your side."

I searched his face.

"Is that a warning?"

"It's advice."

"From someone who bullies people for coming first?"

His jaw tightened.

I immediately regretted the words.

Not because they were untrue, but because something in his expression changed.

The coldness returned.

"Finish the assignment," he said. "I'll handle the rest."

He walked away.

I watched him disappear between the shelves.

I didn't trust him.

But I couldn't ignore the fact that, for the first time since we had met, Adrian Blackwood had seemed genuinely concerned about what might happen to me.

I folded the email and slipped it into my notebook.

I would investigate the competition.

I would protect my work.

And I would never allow anybody to convince me that my scholarship made me less deserving than a billionaire's daughter.

Unfortunately, someone had already noticed how determined I was.

And someone was preparing to betray me.