Prologue
There’s a kind of cold only old money can afford. Not the type that comes with winter wind or drafty stone halls—but the chill of walking through a place built by ghosts and never meant for someone like you.
Rothmore University was exactly that. Ivy crawling up every column, arches too high, chandeliers too bright. It was the kind of school where surnames mattered more than GPAs and freshmen arrived in town cars with custom license plates. A world sealed by legacy—except for a few of them. The “exceptions.” The scholarship kids. The outliers.
The anomalies.
Annalise never tried to belong here. And that was the thing—she didn’t want to. She was here to win. Quietly. Unnoticed, if possible.
Every day was the same. Wake up before her roommate’s alarm. Headphones in. Black coffee, no milk. Ten-minute walk to class across wet stone paths and too-perfect hedges. First row in the back corner, closest to the exit. Biomedical engineering wasn’t the most glamorous major, but it was clean. Numbers didn’t lie. Molecules didn’t gossip.
People did.
She existed in this school like a shadow. Sharp edges softened. No loud colors, no smiles she didn’t mean. And most importantly—no attachments.
By noon, she was cutting across the quad with her coffee in one hand and a protein bar in the other, trying to beat the lunchtime crowd to the student lounge. Her fingers were frozen around the cup, and the wind tugged at her scarf as she rounded the southeast arch.
She didn’t see him until it was too late.
Crash.
It was like hitting a wall made of heat and muscle. Her coffee exploded between them, the lid popping off, scalding liquid splattering across her sweater and his sweatshirt.
“Oh my god—what the hell—” she gasped, stumbling backward.
A pair of strong hands steadied her by the shoulders.
“Shit. Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.
Annalise looked up—and up.
Golden boy.
Lucian Vale.
Even if you didn’t follow sports—or Rothmore gossip—you knew who he was. He was everywhere. Captain of the hockey team. Instagram famous. Big family name. Son of some billionaire who sat on Rothmore’s board. Girls either dated him or tried to. Guys followed him like puppies. Professors gave him second chances he didn’t ask for.
He wasn’t just golden. He glowed.
And now he smelled like burnt coffee.
“You should really watch where you’re going,” Annalise snapped, wiping her sleeve with a napkin from her coat pocket. “Maybe walk in a straight line next time instead of bulldozing people.”
A couple of his friends were nearby—another hockey player and a girl with a fake laugh—and of course they noticed.
“Bro, you good?” the other guy called, laughing. “She come outta nowhere or what?”
Annalise rolled her eyes and turned to leave. She was not doing this. Not today.
But Lucian’s voice stopped her.
“No,” he said clearly. “It was my fault. She’s right.”
She blinked, mid-step.
Wait, what?
The others paused. Then started peeling away, making vague comments about practice and group chats.
Annalise stood there, damp sleeve and all, still processing.
Lucian turned back to her, pushing one hand through his messy, sunlit hair.
“I wasn’t looking. I really am sorry,” he said. And it actually sounded… real.
She crossed her arms, still guarded. “I’m fine.”
He nodded. “You sure?”
“I just lost half a coffee. I’ll live.”
There was a pause. And then he asked it.
“…What’s your name?”
Annalise stared. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I nearly knocked you out and spilled your drink. Feels weird not knowing the name of the person I traumatized.”
There it was—that smirk. Just shy of cocky. But not quite.
“Annalise,” she said finally. “No last name necessary.”
His lips quirked. “Annalise.”
He said it slowly, like he was tasting it.
Then he stepped in—not close enough to break a rule, but enough to feel his presence.
“Well… Annalise,” he murmured, eyes catching hers for a little too long. “You’re kind of hard to miss. Surprised I haven’t seen you around before.”
She stared back, voice flat. “That’s because you weren’t looking.”
Something flickered in his gaze. Then he smiled again—softer this time.
“Guess I’m looking now.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
