EIRA'S POV
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Mom calling…
A small smile crossed my face as I answered.
"Good morning, Mom!"
"Good morning, sweetheart. Have you left for college?"
"Almost there, Mom."
"Have you had your breakfast?"
"Yes, I have."
"Really?" my brother's voice interrupted. "Or did you just survive on two biscuits and a cup of tea again?"
I rolled my eyes. "Can you mind your own business?"
"I was only concerned about my little sister," he replied, pretending to sound offended.
"Enough, both of you," Dad interrupted, his firm voice making me smile. "Eira, concentrate on your studies and take care of yourself. Don't neglect your health."
"I will, Papa."
Call us whenever you get some free time," Mom added.
"I will, Mom. Love you!"
"Love you too, sweetheart."
"Love you, Papa! And you too, Mr. Annoying Brother."
"Wow. Such affection!" my brother exclaimed.
I laughed before ending the call.
For a moment, their voices brought a little comfort to my otherwise troubled morning. But as soon as I put my phone away, my thoughts returned to Peter.
I don't know what I'm going to do now…
Two days. Just two days until Tessy and Peter's engagement, and I still have nothing. Not a single shred of evidence.
I've searched his locker, his bag—everywhere I could think of. But he's too clever. Too calculating. It's almost as if he knows whenever someone is watching him.
I can't let this go.
Maybe I should follow him… Yes. That might actually work.
I have to try.
"Miss Eira…"
"Miss Eira, are you here?"
"Miss Eira, stand up."
Wait… my name?
I blinked, abruptly dragged out of my thoughts. The entire classroom was staring at me.
"Y-Yes, Sir," I stammered, scrambling to my feet.
"Miss Eira, what is the function of α-DNA polymerase in eukaryotes?" the professor questioned, fixing me with an expectant stare.
"Sir… They… They… α-DNA polymerase—"
BANG!
The classroom door flew open.
Adrian.
He strode inside with the effortless arrogance of someone who had never considered himself answerable to anyone. He didn't spare the professor so much as a glance, heading straight for his seat as though the interruption had been perfectly justified.
Thank God…
I didn't have the faintest idea what the answer was.
"Mr. Adrian! This is not your home. This is my classroom!" the professor snapped.
Adrian paid him no attention. He simply pulled out his chair and sat down.
Unhurried. Unbothered. Infuriatingly composed.
"Mr. Adrian! Stand up. Right now!" the professor barked. "Just because you're rich doesn't mean you can do whatever you please!"
Only then did Adrian slowly lift his eyes.
His expression remained utterly indifferent.
"May I sit down now?"
"Not until you answer my question!" the professor retorted. "What is the function of α-DNA polymerase in eukaryotes?"
A brief pause.
Then Adrian spoke.
His voice was measured, precise, and devoid of even the slightest trace of hesitation.
"DNA polymerase alpha (Pol α) holds a unique position among the eukaryotic polymerase family…"
He continued without faltering.
It was almost unsettling how effortlessly the words left his mouth, as though the entire subject had been permanently etched into his memory.
"The Pol α–primase complex consists of four subunits: POLA1, POLA2, PRIM1, and PRIM2…"
The classroom fell eerily silent.
Even I forgot to blink.
He wasn't merely answering the question.
He was dismantling it, piece by piece.
"…before handing over to Pol δ and Pol ε for full replication."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I could practically feel the professor's confidence crumbling beneath the weight of Adrian's answer.
Then, with the same chilling indifference, Adrian added,
"I think you should focus on your teaching."
The professor's face drained of colour. His lips parted, but no words emerged.
Humiliated.
Completely and publicly.
How could someone be so effortlessly insufferable?
It was infuriating.
The bell rang, slicing through the suffocating silence.
The professor hurriedly gathered his belongings, his composure visibly shaken. He was almost at the door when—
"Sir."
Adrian's voice stopped him.
The entire classroom seemed to hold its breath.
"You can always try to stop me."
And with that, he walked out.
Just like that.
As though he hadn't just reduced a man's authority to nothing in front of an entire class.
I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling tightly against my palms.
He had absolutely no respect. No shame. No regard for anyone.
I couldn't understand how someone like him could even exist.
But I didn't have time to waste thinking about him.
I had Tessy to worry about.
I hurried towards the canteen, my eyes sweeping over the crowded tables and scattered groups of students.
Where is that jerk Peter?
The place was overflowing with people. Conversations blurred into an incessant buzz, chairs scraped against the floor, and the clatter of utensils only added to my growing frustration.
I scanned every corner.
Nothing.
God, just let me find him.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
Gone.
I pressed my lips together, irritation twisting in my stomach.
All because Adrian had chosen that exact moment to create a scene.
What am I supposed to do now?
I moved between the tables, craning my neck to look past the crowds. My patience was wearing thin, and every passing second felt like another opportunity slipping through my fingers.
Nothing.
Not a single glimpse of him.
Rrrrrriiiinnnggg!
The bell rang again.
I released a frustrated breath.
Fine. I'd go back.
I had barely turned when—
Footsteps.
Rapid. Uneven. Almost frantic.
Coming from behind me.
I stiffened.
Something about their pace made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Without thinking, I slipped behind a nearby pillar, pressing my back against its cold surface.
Then I saw her.
Claira.
She was practically running, her breathing ragged, her eyes darting desperately over her shoulder. Her face had lost its colour, and she kept glancing behind her as though she expected someone to appear at any moment.
My stomach tightened.
What happened to her?
Was someone following her?
Was it… Adrian?
Before I could make sense of it—
"Where do you think you're going?"
A voice sliced through the air.
Cold.
Menacingly familiar.
Peter.
My blood ran cold.
He appeared behind Claira and seized her wrist, wrenching her around before slamming her against the wall.
THUD!
I flinched.
Her back struck the hard surface with enough force to make her gasp.
I instinctively clamped a hand over my mouth.
What the hell?
"Now you have a voice, huh?" he hissed, leaning towards her. "How dare you talk back to me?"
"Leave me alone!" Claira cried, desperately trying to wrench her wrist free.
His fingers tightened around her.
"I told you to leave this place. What are you still doing here?" His voice dropped into a vicious whisper. "Do you think that Ad—"
His phone rang.
The sudden sound made me jump.
Peter glanced at the screen.
And just like that, his entire demeanour changed.
The tension vanished from his face, replaced by a charming smile so convincing that it made my stomach turn.
"Tessy, dear. I'm coming. Please wait for me."
My nails dug into my palms.
Dear?
The same man who had just pinned a terrified girl against a wall was now speaking as though he were the most loving boyfriend in the world.
The call ended.
His smile disappeared.
His expression hardened as he turned back towards Claira.
"I'll deal with you later."
He shoved her away from him and walked off without another glance.
As though nothing had happened.
As though he hadn't just hurt her.
I remained pressed against the pillar, barely daring to breathe.
My heart was hammering so violently that I was afraid he might hear it.
My fingers trembled.
What… what had I just witnessed?
Why was Claira so terrified of him?
Why had he reacted so violently?
And what was he about to say before the phone interrupted him?
Do you think that Ad—
Adrian?
What did Adrian have to do with any of this?
My gaze followed Peter until he disappeared from sight.
Then my thoughts drifted to Tessy.
Tessy, who trusted him.
Tessy, who was preparing to marry him.
Tessy, who had absolutely no idea what kind of man she was about to spend her life with.
No.
I couldn't let this happen.
Something was terribly wrong with Peter.
And whatever secret he was hiding, Claira was clearly caught in the middle of it.
I slowly loosened my fingers, only to realise how tightly I'd been gripping my own hands.
I had come here looking for proof against Peter.
But now…
I'd witnessed something far more disturbing.
And a single question kept repeating in my mind.
What exactly was Peter so desperate to hide?