Chapter 1: Welcome to Saint Aldrich Academy
The first thing Aria Malik noticed about Saint Aldrich Academy was that it didn’t feel like a school at all.
It felt like a kingdom.
Tall stone towers glimmered under the morning sun, wrapped in creeping ivy that looked too perfect to be real. The walkways were paved with old marble tiles that had probably witnessed a hundred years of scandals, heartbreaks, and whispered secrets. Everywhere she turned, someone was dressed in immaculate uniforms tailored by designers whose names she couldn’t pronounce.
The place radiated wealth.
And that meant danger.
Aria pulled her hoodie tighter and reminded herself:
You are no one here. Invisible. Forgettable. That’s good.
She was here because of a scholarship awarded under a false name — the only way she could attend school without anyone linking her to Malik Global, the empire her late father built, the empire others wanted to steal.
Here, she wasn’t the heiress.
She wasn’t a billionaire.
She wasn’t a target.
She was simply Aria Khan, scholarship student.
The forged last name still tasted strange on her tongue.
She checked her class schedule one last time, then looked up just in time to crash — hard — into what felt like a wall.
Except the wall had hands.
Strong hands.
Warm hands.
Hands that closed around her arms to steady her.
“Watch it,” a voice snapped — smooth, deep, and annoyingly confident.
Aria stepped back, blinking, and found herself staring into a pair of piercing sapphire-blue eyes. The kind of eyes that carried danger. And trouble. And a promise that if you stared too long, you’d forget your own name.
Great, she thought.
Her first enemy within five minutes of arriving.
The boy — no, the young man — looked like Saint Aldrich royalty incarnate: perfectly styled dark hair, perfectly tailored uniform, perfectly sharp jawline.
His presence was… commanding.
And irritating.
“S–sorry,” she muttered, though she didn’t mean it.
He arched one eyebrow. “You’re new.”
It wasn’t a question.
“You can tell by the way I breathe?” she shot back before she could stop herself.
Several students nearby froze, staring at her like she had just yelled at a god.
The boy’s lips twitched — not in amusement — in disbelief.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he asked softly.
“No,” she said, shifting her backpack. “Should I?”
A murmur rippled through the corridor.
The boy leaned in, too close, like he wanted her to feel his smirk in the air between them.
“I’m Leonhart Valtieri,” he whispered. “People here call me Leo. But they don’t call me anything unless I allow it.”
Aria blinked.
“This is a school, not a monarchy.”
Another ripple of gasps from the watching students.
Leo stared at her — not in anger — but curiosity. A kind of stunned fascination.
Like she was something he’d never encountered before.
Good, she thought.
If he didn’t know her, then her secret was safe.
Without another word, she stepped around him and walked toward the main office. The corridor remained silent until she turned the corner. Only then did whispers explode.
“Who is she?”
“She talked back to Valtieri?”
“Is she suicidal?”
“She’s… kind of brave.”
Aria pretended not to hear any of it.
She had survived worse.
She wasn’t afraid of some academy prince with perfect bone structure.
Or at least, she told herself that.
But as she reached the next hallway, something made her glance back.
Leo Valtieri was still watching her.
Still smirking.
Still intrigued.
And something in his eyes promised:
This isn’t over.
The first day passed in a blur of introductions, maps, and polite smiles. Aria excelled in academics; she always had. But Saint Aldrich felt different. Every classroom had chandeliers. Every professor seemed like they were chosen by European royalty. Every syllabus included things like etiquette units and legacy-building workshops.
She didn’t belong here.
That was the entire point.
Her father once said, “Hide in plain sight, Aria.”
And Saint Aldrich — filled with the world’s wealthiest children — was the last place anyone would guess the Malik heiress to be hiding.
Still, she felt like every gaze lingered too long.
Like every whisper was about her.
Like eyes followed her from behind the ivy-covered walls.
Especially one pair of eyes.
In her second class, she sat down at the last empty seat, opened her notebook, and tried to blend in.
Then someone slid into the chair beside her — uncomfortably close.
She didn’t look up.
She didn’t need to.
Her skin was already reacting to the heat of his presence.
“So,” Leo drawled, “you didn’t disappear after all.”
Aria gripped her pen. “Some of us attend classes. I’m assuming this is a new experience for you?”
A soft chuckle. “You’re entertaining.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“You’re still succeeding.”
She finally turned her head and met his eyes.
He was already watching her.
And not subtly.
She could feel his gaze tracing her expressions, as if trying to decode her.
“Why are you sitting here?” she demanded.
“This is my seat.”
“There’s no assigned seating.”
“There is now.”
Aria exhaled sharply. “Do you have a hobby? Besides being a narcissist, I mean.”
Leo smirked. “I’m starting a new one.”
“What? Annoying me?”
He paused — the smirk softened.
“No,” he said quietly. “Understanding you.”
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Fortunately, the professor entered the room at that exact moment, sparing her from responding.
Class began — but Leo didn’t look away.
Not once.
Every time she answered a question, his gaze darkened, like she had just challenged him to a duel.
Every time she solved a problem faster than him, he straightened in his seat, competitive fire igniting.
When she argued with the professor about a theory, Leo leaned forward, watching her with a mixture of irritation… and admiration.
She wasn’t sure which one made her more nervous.
During a discussion segment, the professor said, “Leo and Aria, you’ll be partners today.”
Of course.
Of course fate hated her.
Leo’s grin widened.
Aria groaned.
They turned to face each other across their shared desk.
Leo tapped his pen against the surface.
“Tell me why you’re really here,” he murmured.
She stiffened. “Because I earned a scholarship.”
“You’re hiding something.”
Her blood turned cold.
He leaned closer. “You’re smart. But not just academic smart. Survivors have a different kind of sharpness. And you have it.”
She forced her gaze down.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And I don’t care.”
He smiled — slow, wicked, curious.
“I like that about you.”
Her stomach twisted in unwanted heat.
She hated that.
She hated him.
She hated that she didn’t.
By lunchtime, Aria’s nerves felt frayed. She needed space. Quiet. Somewhere without Valtieri breathing down her neck.
The academy rooftop garden seemed safe — peaceful even. Flowers, ivy arches, a distant view of the city’s skyline. A perfect breath of calm in a world built on chaos.
She was halfway through her sandwich when she sensed it.
His presence.
Again.
She turned her head slowly.
Leo stood by the ivy archway, hands in pockets, watching her like she was the only thing worth looking at.
Aria groaned. “Do you ever… not appear?”
He walked toward her, each step measured, deliberate.
“I wanted to apologize,” Leo said softly.
She blinked. “For what? Existing?”
A small laugh — the first genuine one she’d heard from him.
“For how I acted earlier.”
“What? The part where you acted like the school prince? Or the part where you stalked me?”
He sat across from her.
Too close.
“I was curious,” he admitted.
She swallowed hard. “About what?”
“You.”
Her breath hitched.
Leo looked like someone who had never apologized in his life — and yet here he was, doing it for her.
“Aria…” he said quietly, her name rolling off his tongue like he was testing how it felt. “You’re different.”
“I’m just new.”
“No,” he whispered.
“You’re… unexpected.”
The breeze rustled the ivy between them.
Her heart beat faster.
Too fast.
“You don’t even know me,” she murmured.
“Not yet.”
His gaze locked onto hers.
“But I want to.”
The intensity in his voice made her pulse throb.
She stood abruptly.
“This is ridiculous. We’re not friends.”
“Then we can be rivals,” he said, leaning back. “I enjoy that too.”
He wasn’t teasing.
He meant it.
A slow smile curved his lips.
“Either way,” he added, “you’re not getting rid of me.”
She felt something dangerous unravel in her chest.
Fear.
Attraction.
Curiosity.
A combination she’d sworn never to entertain again.
She backed away. “Goodbye, Leo.”
“Until next time, Aria,” he murmured.
And she hated how much she wanted there to be a next time.
That night, Aria settled into her dorm room — grateful her roommate hadn’t arrived yet — and finally let her composure crack.
She leaned against the door and exhaled.
Leo Valtieri was a problem.
A beautiful, magnetic, infuriating problem.
She took out the small locket hidden under her shirt and opened it. Inside was a photo of her father.
“Baba,” she whispered, “I’m trying to stay hidden. I’m trying to be safe.”
But Leo made her feel… seen.
And that terrified her more than anything.
As she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she told herself she wasn’t here for romance.
She wasn’t here for friendship.
She wasn’t here for enemies or rivals or sapphire-eyed boys who made her forget to breathe.
She was here to survive.
But survival became harder when someone was watching you.
And Leo Valtieri was definitely watching her.
—
Down the hall, Leo stood leaning against a windowsill, staring out at the moonlit campus.
He didn’t understand her.
He didn’t understand why she unsettled him.
But he knew this:
Aria wasn’t ordinary.
She was a mystery.
And Leo Valtieri had never been able to resist unraveling mysteries.
He whispered her name into the empty hallway.
“Aria…”
Something in him shifted.
Pulled.
Awakened.
This year at Saint Aldrich Academy was going to be far from ordinary.
And Leo?
He intended to make sure of it.
