THE ARNOLD'S MANSION.
The morning light sliced through the tall windows of the Arnold's mansion, but it did little to ease Hugo's pounding headache. Each step down the grand staircase was a fresh wave of regret, a brutal reminder of yesterday's fight. He could still hear his own venomous words, hurled at his father.
"Why do you drink like a fool instead of upholding the family image?" his father had asked.
Hugo's defiant reply had been, "Fuck off and stop making my life a living hell." He remembered the stinging slap across his cheek, the quick, gentle touch of his mother, Veronica, who had rushed to his side. But he'd pushed her away, too, retreating into the cold sanctuary of his room.
He entered the living room, a space that was both immense and suffocating. He gestured for a maid to bring him water, then slumped onto a plush couch. "Oh, shit, my head hurts," he muttered.
Across the room, his father, Mr. Arnold, lowered his newspaper with a loud snap, the sound a deliberate intrusion into the tense silence. Neither man looked at the other. The maid returned with a glass of water, which Hugo downed in one gulp.
"Be ready," Mr. Arnold said, his voice flat. "I've booked a photoshoot for you with Vogue."
Hugo's head snapped up. "Did you ever ask for my opinion?" he shot back.
"There was nothing to ask," his father replied, the coldness in his voice a shield. "You don't respect yourself enough to make a reasonable decision."
Hugo let out a bitter laugh, his eyes hardening. "Maybe if you'd let me make one decision for myself, I wouldn't be so indecisive."
His words held no weight. His father's response was a mocking retort. "I did let you make a decision for yourself. How has that turned out? You're out there chasing a nobody, trying to force an undignified gold-digger from the slums to love you, when princesses are seeking your time."
"Don't you ever call Megara a nobody," Hugo warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I won't tolerate it."
Mr. Arnold chuckled. "What are you going to do? I'm not going to say it's not a duck if it walks like a duck, eats like a duck, and swims like a duck."
"Don't repeat a single word about her," Hugo said, his fists clenched.
"Cut ties with her and set your priorities straight, or I'll do it for you," his father said. He stood up from the couch and handed his newspaper to a waiting maid. "You're too weak to be an Arnold. Don't reveal your soft spots to everyone, or you'll get killed before you even have the strength to fight."
Hugo begrudgingly said, "Thanks for the advice."
Mr. Arnold's final command was cold and sharp. "Bathe and arrive at the photoshoot at exactly 4:30 PM. A minute late and you'll be punished as per tradition."
He exited the mansion, not sparing him a backward glance, leaving Hugo to curse angrily before walking to his room. The maids lowered their heads, sighing as they watched him go.
LUNCHTIME
Megara and her friends spilled out of the elevator, their laughter echoing in the hall, halfway through the cafeteria entrance, her eyes met Uriel's. He walked right into the cafeteria, not daring to approach her as expected, but the action sent a wave of embarrassment crashing over her. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, a stark reminder of yesterday's incident.
"What's wrong?" Jane asked looking ahead but saw no one.
"Nothing," Megara lied, pushing the memory away.
But as she stepped into the cafeteria, the normal lunchtime chatter was replaced by a low, insistent murmur. She felt every eye on her. People pointed, whispered, and jeered, calling her a slut and giving her lecherous looks. She held her head high, refusing to let them see her crumble. After all, what had she done? She'd gotten drunk, a common teenage rite of passage. But she wasn't just any teenager; she was Megara, the superstar nerd as many called her and the daughter of the greatest army commander in history, And for her, the rules were different.
Her friend, Laura, gave her arm a supportive squeeze. "Just ignore them," she advised. "The rumors will die down."
They grabbed their food and headed to their usual table, but it was gone. The entire cafeteria was packed, every seat taken. Megara looked at her friends, a question in her eyes. "What now?" she asked, but they had no answer.
Just then, Chris approached them. "Uriel said you guys should come sit with him and Zack," he said. Megara froze. Her mind flashed back to the last time she sat at that table, Uriel's cold reaction, and the memory of what had happened yesterday. She couldn't do it again.
Megara immediately shook her head. "No, thanks," she said, her voice firm. "We'll eat somewhere else."
But before she could turn away, Uriel was there. He had anticipated her refusal and had come down himself. His emerald eyes bore into hers, and she felt a jolt of heat rush to her cheeks. She was frozen in place, a wave of mortifying embarrassment washing over her.
"Come sit down, quietly," he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Or I'll play the recording of you babbling for the entire school to listen to."
Megara's teeth clenched. "Are you insane?" she seethed, her voice a furious whisper. "You think threatening me will work?"
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "I didn't expect it to work on you," he admitted. "But I know how much your public image means to you. I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone to hear what you said."
Megara's fury simmered just beneath the surface, but a forced smile was all she let show as she followed him upstairs. The hushed whispers of students grew louder as they ascended, yet no one dared speak up—not after what happened to Amaya. In the lounge, Zack looked surprised to see her, but quickly recovered, offering a flirty smile as Uriel pulled out a chair for Megara.
Suspiciously, she glared at him before sitting. "Why did you ask me to sit here, Uriel?" she asked, her voice sharp. He only chuckled, the low rumble of his laugh sending an unsettling vibration through her. "You once gave me a run for my life just for sitting here, and don't tell me you've forgotten that I'm not a Z3 member."
Uriel simply smiled, gesturing to the pasta on her plate. "Eat up, wifey. You'll need your strength," he taunted, and Megara's rage boiled over.
"Don't call me that," she commanded. His expression flickered, but just as quickly, the indifferent mask he wore returned.
"That's not what I heard yesterday," he teased, and Zack and the others exchanged a knowing look. "You declared to the public that we were married and that you'd host a grand wedding for me."
A crimson blush crept up Megara's neck. She stuffed her mouth with pasta, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Do you intend to go back on your word?" he asked, his voice low and mischievous.
"I was drunk yesterday, that's all. No need to remind me of how careless I was," she retorted, setting down her fork. "And just because that happened doesn't mean you can expect me to be nicer to you or bend to your will."
Jane watched them in shock. She'd never seen Uriel smile so brightly, so genuinely. She had been sure nothing was going on between them—Megara hated arrogant rich kids, after all—so as long as he kept his arrogant attitude, she believed she had nothing to worry about.
Zack cleared his throat, cutting through the thick tension. "Megara, don't let him get to you. Anyone makes mistakes. But anyway, how's your hangover?" he asked with genuine concern.
"It's fine," she replied, continuing to eat her pasta. Suddenly, Uriel slid a bottle of apple juice across the table toward her. She looked from him to the juice, her suspicion renewed. "What is this?"
"It's apple juice. Drink it," he said, effortlessly slicing his steak. "If you won't drink it, you might as well keep it as a souvenir for having lunch with me."
Everyone at the table was stunned. The juice was his favorite, and he'd never given it to anyone else. It was even more bizarre because it was a rare, exclusive brand that his stepmother had created just for him.
Underneath the table, Jane clenched her fist, stuffing her face with pasta to regain her composure. "Dude, you haven't even given me that juice once. I'm jealous," Zack said dramatically, but Uriel simply waved him off.
"You're not important," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. Zack, however, didn't mind and burst out laughing to ease the tension. "It's not like this is the first time you've tasted it," he added, locking eyes with a flustered Megara.
Megara was taken aback by his casual tone; it was as if he wanted to pull her into his complicated world. "Uriel, I want you to take that video down," she demanded, but he simply furrowed his brow as if he hadn't heard her.
He brought his fork to his lips, taking a tentative bite, causing Jane and Laura to almost forget how to breathe. Megara's face remained impassive. "Why should I take down the video? It's fine where it is," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Asshole," she cursed under her breath, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Because it's not fine. You can at least use your influence to get it taken down. Is that too hard for you?"
Uriel met her gaze, his demeanor calm. "Is it so easy for you to flash a fake smile?" he cocked his head. Megara almost felt the urge to slap him, and Zack burst out laughing at her angry pout. "I could do it, but then again, I won't. It's fine where it is."
"You haven't even accepted my offer of goodwill, yet here you are, making demands," he interjected, his tone mockingly hurt. "I can take the video down, but it won't be free."
Megara eyed him. "Fine, whatever," she said, continuing to eat her pasta. "Mmmhhmm."
"It's delicious, right?" Uriel asked affectionately.
"It just turned sour upon your question," she replied with disdain.
Uriel laughed. The rest of the students simply watched the two of them banter. He then stood up, pushed his chair back, and walked downstairs. Megara watched him approach a table of male students who looked like they were part of the media team. He spoke to them, and immediately, they bowed and hastily ran out of the cafeteria.
From below, he waved at Megara, and the entire cafeteria turned to stare at her. She didn't wave back, turning away from him instead. Uriel walked back up the stairs, held her chair from behind, and leaned over her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "It's done. You won't see the video again, but it's not for free. What will you give me as compensation?"
She didn't reply. "Don't worry, I'm not in a hurry," he continued. "I'll take it little by little."
She stood up, met his gaze for a brief moment, and then walked out of the cafeteria. A smiling Uriel couldn't help but feel satisfied, knowing he'd successfully gotten a rise out of her.