Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1 — The Scholarship Girl Who Wasn’t
If I had to describe Northbridge Academy in one sentence, it would be this:
A palace disguised as a school… and a trap disguised as a dream.
Marble floors so shiny you could see your lies in them. Fountains bigger than my entire street back home well, my fake home. And students walking around like they personally invented wealth and cruelty on the same day.
I step through the gates with my backpack that looks like it survived a war. The strap is fraying. The zipper jams. It’s perfect the kind of “poor girl aesthetic” that convinces everyone to mind their business.
Heads turn. Whispers start immediately.
“Who’s that?” “Scholarship kid.” “Seriously? Did the admin run out of rich students to admit?”
I pretend not to hear, even though every sound echoes loud in my chest. I’ve rehearsed this role for months. The quiet, unbothered, “I don’t mind being underestimated” girl.
But today? I feel the pressure sitting right behind my ribs.
If they knew who I really was if they knew that my last name could buy this academy, its board, and twelve surrounding countries I’d be dead before lunch.
I pull my hoodie up and keep walking.
And then…
“Move.”
The voice hits me from behind. Sharp. Low. Commanding.
I turn slowly ready to snap back and then I see him.
Aiden Kingswell.
Northbridge’s crown jewel. Europe’s future king. The boy who walks like the world is just something he tolerates.
His uniform is ironed so crisply it probably hurts to touch. His eyes? Ice blue. Too bright. Too observant. The kind of eyes that make you feel like you can’t lie and also like you should absolutely lie harder.
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t look around. He looks directly at me.
“You’re blocking the path,” he says.
And everybody watches, waiting for the scholarship girl to tremble or apologize or crumble like they always do.
But I’m not here to bow.
So I smile.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Your highness.”
Gasps ripple through the courtyard like I slapped him with gold.
His expression doesn’t move. Not even a twitch. But something shifts in his eyes interest, irritation, maybe both.
“You must be the new scholarship student,” he says quietly, like he’s assessing a threat. “That explains it.”
I raise a brow. “Explains what?”
“The… lack of etiquette.”
Oh. Okay.
I laugh under my breath the kind that makes rich kids uncomfortable.
“And you must be the royal robot. That explains the personality.”
A beat of silence.
Then his jaw tightens, just slightly, like no one’s dared talk to him like that in his life.
The bell rings. Students scatter, pretending not to be eavesdropping.
Aiden steps closer instead of leaving.
Close enough that I can smell him clean, cold, expensive. Close enough that I realize his height should be illegal.
“Let’s see how long you last here,” he murmurs.
It’s not a threat. It’s a prediction.
I tip my chin up. “I plan on lasting longer than your attitude.”
His eyes drag across my face slow, searching, a little too interested for someone who supposedly hates poor people. Then he walks past me like I’m not worth another second.
But he looks back.
Once. Quick. Like he’s already planning his next move.
And that should’ve been the end. It should’ve been one petty hallway moment and done.
But as I turn to head to orientation, a cold jolt hits me.
Because someone a man in a black uniform is watching me from the corner of the courtyard.
Not a student. Not a teacher.
His gaze lands on me with recognition.
Real recognition.
I freeze.
No. No, no, no. They can’t have found me this fast. I changed schools, countries, identities. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet.
I take a step back.
The man lifts a phone to his ear.
My heart slams against my ribs.
Someone found me. Someone knows.
I turn and walk fast too fast toward the main building.
Then, a voice behind me:
“You again.”
Aiden stands in the doorway, blocking my escape. And his eyes narrow at my expression like he can tell something’s wrong, like he can read panic off my skin.
Before I can look away, before I can pretend, he says quietly:
“Who are you running from?”
My blood turns to ice.
I don’t answer. I push past him.
But he catches my wrist not hard, just enough to stop me.
“Ivy,” he says calmly. “Look at me.”
“I never told you my name,” I whisper.
His grip loosens. His eyes widen barely. Just enough to show he noticed his mistake.
Aiden Kingswell, prince, heir, royal robot…
Already knows who I am.
Or thinks he does.
And I can’t let him get any closer.
Because if he finds out the truth?
He won’t be the one in danger.
I will.
