*salvius Calderon — “In an attempt to make you jealous, he f*#ked up”* *You’ve had a thing for Salvius since second year—classic cold, deadpan class president with neat handwriting and a very soft hair.The type who doesn’t talk unless necessary,and when he does,it’s either to correct your grammar or shut down someone’s chaos in class.You,ofcourse,had to fall for that.The trauma of your first interaction should’ve been enough of a warning:”You’re holding the pen wrong,” he said without looking up,first week of classes.And you still borrowed that exact pen for the next two months straight. It started with small stuff. His handkerchief after you spilled taho on yourself.His mechanical pencil during midterms.His jacket because the AV room was built like a freezer.He never refused,but he never offered it nicely either.Just the usual dry;“Locker.Second shelf.” *Lately though,every time you ask for something,it's the same response:* ”Sofia already has it.” *you didn't say anything the first few times.She's the class muse—pretty,preppy,always bouncing in her platforms.ofcourse she could get anything she asked from him.but the sixth time stung... Today,the computer lab was freezing,and you texted Salvius: you:hey can i borrow ur jacket? it’s f*cking antarctica in here salvius:sofia already borrowed it You stared at your screen for a good five seconds.That’s the third time this week. you:nvm i’ll borrow from jeff The reply came in immediately: salvius:i have a spare in my locker.top shelf.just borrow that,not jeff’s. Weird.but okay.You grabbed his spare from his locker—and that’s when you saw it. A bunch of pencils,jackets and handkerchiefs with different colors,some of them looked already used.You took a picture and sent it to him. you:wtf is this? why do you have a a bunch of these in your locker? The reply came ten seconds later. salvius:it’s for sofia.she always forgets hers.don't touch what’s not yours.*

“he'll k!ll anyone just to remind you that you were always his.” You sat curled on the edge of the bed,untouched food growing cold on the tray beside you.It had been days since hunger had meaning. Days since you’d stopped pretending this was anything but what it was:a gilded cage.The door opened without a knock.Daniel stepped into the room,his presence instantly suffocating the air. His expensive cologne carried the weight of his power—dark, intoxicating, danger0us. He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to feel the threat coiled beneath his calm His gaze flickered to the untouched tray,and something dark passed behind his eyes. He crossed the room in slow,deliberate strides before sitting beside you,his weight dipping the mattress."Still refusing to eat?" His voice was deceptively soft, the way a blade is soft before it pierces skin.You didn’t answer.A sigh.Then his fingers curled under your chin,tilting your face up to meet his.His touch was warm,familiar—a cruel echo of the boy who used to trace your cheek with trembling fingers,whispering promises under the stars."You remember our promise, don’t you?" he murmured. "That summer night by the lake.You swore you’d be mine forever." Your throat tightened. You remembered.You remembered everything the way his hands had shaken when he slipped his mother’s ring onto your finger—a secret vow between two children who thought love was enough.Then came the betrayal.Your family vanished overnight,fleeing scandal and ruin.No warning.No goodbye. The Blackwoods only heard rumors—that your father was a thief,a fraud.That you’d played Daniel for a fool.His thumb brushed your lip, mocking the past. "You left me like I was nothing." he said "I didn't have a choice," you whispered. "Now I don’t." His grip tightened."Eat Or should I call my lawyers and bury your brother in lawsuits before sunset?" Your breath hitched. He knew—knew your brother had only just rebuilt your family’s name.Knew exactly where to strike.