The rain in Northwood Heights didn't just fall; it judged. It washed over the cold, marble columns of the Elite Academy of Business and Global Law, highlighting the jagged divide between the silver-spoon heirs and a scholarship nobody like me, Elara Vance. I stood at the edge of the courtyard, my oversized sweater soaked through and clinging to my skin, emphasizing every imperfection and curve I spent my life trying to hide. My "excessive weight" was a target, a perceived flaw that the students here treated like a crime punishable by social death. I was a third-year Business Administration major, struggling to maintain the 4.0 GPA required for my scholarship while navigating a world that wanted me invisible. Every morning, I sat in the back of International Finance 301, making myself as small as possible so the professors wouldn't notice the girl who didn't wear designer labels. My mother, a former housekeeper who had recently climbed the social ladder by marrying the billionaire patriarch Silas Thorne, had warned me to stay in the shadows.
Don't embarrass us, Elara, she had whispered that morning, her voice cold as she adjusted her new diamond earrings. "Silas has a reputation to uphold. If people see you looking like... that, they'll think I'm a failure."
She was terrified that my "low economic status" and physical appearance would ruin her new life in high society. She didn't care that my father's death had left me broken; she only cared that I didn't fit into a size zero silk dress.
Look at her, a sharp, melodic voice cut through the rhythmic drumming of the downpour.
It was Sarah, a legacy Law student and the girl who possessed everything I lacked: a perfect, lithe body, a bottomless trust fund, and the boy I once thought was mine.
She looks like a drowned rat, Sarah continued, her lips curling into a smirk as she adjusted her Gucci umbrella.
Although, a rat might actually have the grace to hide its face from public view instead of standing in the middle of the courtyard like a lost cow.
Laughter erupted from the clique of elites gathered under the dry, arched awning. It was a cruel, practiced sound, meant to strip away whatever dignity I had left. Jason, my ex-boyfriend and a star athlete in the Sports Management program, didn't defend me. He simply leaned against the stone wall, his arm draped possessively around Sarah's waist, watching me with a mixture of scorn and boredom. This was the boy who had once whispered that he loved my softness during late-night study sessions, only to dump me the moment my family's status plummeted. He had traded me for a girl who looked better in a bikini, leaving my broken heart to bleed in the hallways of the school.
Is she even allowed to stand that close to the main entrance? one of Sarah's lackeys giggled. The scholarship entrance is around the back, near the trash bins where she belongs.
I felt the sting of their words, a familiar, sharp ache. According to the unspoken "Miss Nobody" rules of this school, I was supposed to bow my head and take it. I was the outcast, the poor and lame girl who found solace only in the classical melodies I composed in the dark. I would spend hours in the music wing, playing the piano until my fingers ached, pouring my pain into notes that no one would ever hear.
But today, something shifted. A strong heart was starting to pulse beneath the layers of my shame. I looked at Jason, really looked at him, and realized he wasn't worth my tears. I was done being the victim. I was ready for revenge. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The air grew thick, heavy with a sudden static that made the hair on my arms stand up. The laughter died into a stifled silence. A sleek, obsidian SUV pulled up to the curb, its engine producing a low, vibrating hum that I felt in the soles of my feet.
The door opened, and the world seemed to stop spinning. Killian Thorne stepped out. He was the "most popular playboy" in the academy, a "powerful Alpha" whose very shadow seemed to command the ground it covered. He was a fifth-year Law student, destined to take over the Thorne legal empire. He was also my new step-brother, a relationship that was not ordinary and deeply, dangerously forbidden.
He didn't look at the beautiful girls who suddenly began fixing their hair. His fiery gaze locked onto mine with an obsessive intensity that felt like a physical touch.
Elara, he growled.
The way he said my name wasn't a greeting; it was a claim.
I'm walking, Killian, I whispered, my voice trembling as I tried to sidestep him.
He didn't allow it. He moved with a predator's grace, blocking my path. He was a mountain of tailored wool and raw, masculine power. The scent of him, dark cedar, expensive bourbon, and the cold rain, filled my senses, making my head swim.
You're soaked to the bone, he said, his voice dropping to a "low roar" that only I could hear.
His eyes didn't just look at my face; they drifted down to where my wet sweater had become translucent, hugging the heavy swell of my chest. The look in his eyes wasn't disgust. It was hunger. A dark, "erotic" heat flared in the pit of my stomach, a sensation so forbidden it made me want to scream.
"Get in the car, Elara," he commanded.
"I don't want your help," I snapped, the "strong heart" finally finding its courage. "I'm just a 'pig in a palace,' remember? That's what your friends say."
Killian's jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek. He stepped into my personal space, his heat radiating off him in waves. He reached out, his large, warm hand wrapping firmly around my wrist. The contact was electric. A mate bond sensation, hot and demanding, jolted through my veins.
In this family, you follow my rules, he whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.
I could feel his hot breath against my cold skin, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the weather.
And the first rule is that no one makes my sister cry but me, he added. Do you understand?
I'm not your sister, Killian, I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Our parents just signed a piece of paper. That's all.
Exactly, he murmured, his grip tightening just enough to be dominant. Which means there is absolutely nothing stopping me from doing what I've wanted to do since the moment you moved in.
He pulled me toward the car, ignoring the gasps of the students behind us. I could see Jason's face in the distance; he looked stunned, his regret finally showing as he watched the most dangerous man in Northwood Heights claim the girl he had discarded like trash. As we sat in the plush, leather interior of the SUV, the silence was suffocatingly intimate. The rain drummed against the roof, creating a private sanctuary. I tried to pull my sweater away from my skin, but it only made the fabric cling more tightly to my curves.
You should change, he said, his voice like velvet over gravel.
He didn't look away as he reached into the back seat and pulled out his own leather jacket.
Put this on, he ordered
I'm fine, I lied, my teeth chattering.
Elara, he warned, his eyes flashing that fiery gold. "Don't make me put it on you myself. I don't think you'd enjoy where my hands would have to go to get you out of that wet wool. Or maybe you would."
The thought of his hands on me made my breath hitch. I snatched the jacket from him, the heavy leather still warm from his body. As I slid into it, I was enveloped in his scent. It was overwhelming, masculine, dominant, and entirely "obsessive."
Why do you care?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You're the 'Alpha' of the Law department, and I'm... I'm just the girl everyone laughs at."
Killian reached over, his thumb grazing the line of my jaw, his touch lingering too long to be brotherly.
Because, Elara," he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips. "You don't realize what you are yet. But I've been watching you from the shadows for a long time. I've watched you cry over that pathetic boy, and I've watched you hide your beauty behind these rags."
His hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my wet hair.
I'm tired of watching, he whispered. "From now on, you don't belong to the shadows. You belong to the Thornes. You belong to me."
I looked out the window as we sped away from the school. I saw my reflection, the imperfections, the "excessive weight," the girl who had been bullied. But behind that reflection, I saw the fire Killian had just lit.
This was the beginning of my "amazing transformation". I wasn't just going to lose the weight or change my hair. I was going to use Killian's obsessive desire as a weapon to make everyone who laughed at me repent deeply.
I wasn't just a scholarship student anymore. I was the Alpha's obsession. And the revenge was only just beginning.
As the car pulled into the massive iron gates of the Thorne estate, I knew my life would never be the same. The "Miss Nobody" was dead. And in her place, a princess was rising, one who would eventually wear a crown of thorns and fire.
The SUV came to a screeching halt in front of the mansion. My mother stood under the portico, her face pale and twisted in fury. Beside her was Silas Thorne, clutching a folder marked Confidential: Bloodline Analysis.
"Killian!" Silas roared as we stepped out. "What is she doing in your car? I told you she was to stay with the domestic staff during school hours!"
Killian didn't flinch. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his side.
The rules have changed, Father," he said, his voice cold and echoing through the courtyard. She isn't the help. She's my mate. And if you have a problem with that, you can discuss it with my wolf.
My mother gasped, dropping her glass of wine. It shattered on the marble, a perfect mirror of the life I was leaving behind.