JADE'S POV
I slammed the car door in his face.
The boy with the guilty blue eyes stepped back, surprised. Good. I was done with people thinking they could control me.
"Jade, wait—" He tried the door handle but I'd locked it.
"You know what they did?" I shouted through the window. "Then tell me why I should trust you! You're probably one of them!"
His jaw tightened. For a second, he looked angry. Then he pulled out his phone and held it against the glass so I could read the screen.
It was an email. The subject line made my blood freeze: "COERCION PROTOCOL APPROVED - MORRISON, J."
I read the first few lines. Words like "leverage," "family pressure," and "ensure compliance" jumped out at me. This was proof. Actual evidence that they'd blackmailed me.
"They do this to every lottery winner who tries to refuse," he said through the glass. "Find their weakness and exploit it. With you, it was your sister."
My hands were shaking. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because it's wrong. Because I—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Just come with me. Please. I can help you."
Agent Richardson was marching back toward us, phone pressed to his ear, looking furious. Other security guards were appearing from different directions.
The boy's eyes met mine. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking. Five minutes to explain before they process you and make you sign documents that will lock you in here forever."
Forever. The word hit like a punch.
I opened the door.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a side entrance, moving fast. His palm was warm and slightly callused, like he actually worked with his hands sometimes. Behind us, Richardson was yelling orders.
"This way," the boy said, ducking through a door I hadn't even noticed. We ran down a narrow hallway, took two turns, then he pushed open another door and we were in a small room filled with cleaning supplies.
He locked the door behind us and finally let go of my hand.
We were both breathing hard. The room smelled like lemon cleaner and we were standing so close I could see gold flecks in his blue eyes.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Someone who hates what this academy has become." He pulled out his phone again, scrolling quickly. "Look. Every lottery winner for the past five years. All of them were coerced somehow. Threats, blackmail, bribes. The academy doesn't actually want diversity—they want to look good while keeping all the power."
I scanned the list of names. Beside each one was a note: "Father's gambling debts," "Mother's immigration status," "Brother's medical bills." They'd found everyone's weakness and squeezed.
"This is sick," I whispered.
"It's politics." His voice was bitter. "And it's about to get worse. In fifteen minutes, they'll make you sign a contract. It says you'll follow all academy rules, maintain a certain GPA, and represent the school properly. Sounds fair, right?"
"I'm guessing it's not."
"Page seventeen, section C, subsection four: any violation of academy rules results in immediate expulsion AND you have to pay back the full scholarship amount. Two million dollars."
My stomach dropped. "I don't have two million dollars."
"Exactly. So once you sign, you're trapped. One wrong move and you're buried in debt for the rest of your life. They've done it to three lottery winners who tried to speak out against the system."
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. "So what am I supposed to do? If I don't sign, my sister goes to jail. If I do sign, I'm a prisoner."
He stepped closer, his expression fierce. "You sign. But I'm going to protect you. Every rule they try to use against you, every trap they set—I'll see it coming. I have access to everything here. I can—"
"Why?" The question burst out of me. "Why do you care? You don't even know me!"
His mouth opened. Closed. He looked away, a muscle tightening in his jaw. "Because someone should have protected the others. And no one did. I'm not letting that happen again."
There was a story there. Pain in his voice that matched the pain in my chest. But before I could ask, someone pounded on the door.
"Open up! Now!" Richardson's voice, sharp with authority.
The boy—I still didn't know his name—looked at me with urgent eyes. "Do you trust me?"
"I don't even know you!"
"I know. But right now, I'm all you've got." He held out his hand again. "So do you trust me or not?"
The pounding got louder. They were going to break down the door any second.
I thought about Mom's necklace, gone forever. About Victoria's hate. About being erased and controlled and trapped in a life I never chose.
I took his hand.
He smiled—just a flicker, but it transformed his whole face for a second. Then he unlocked the door and pulled me out into the hallway, where Richardson and four security guards were waiting.
"Your Highness," Richardson said coldly. "Step away from the lottery winner."
My hand went numb. Your Highness?
I looked at the boy beside me. Really looked. At his perfect posture, his expensive watch, the way the guards were standing at attention despite their anger.
"You're..." My voice came out as a whisper. "You're royalty?"
He squeezed my hand once before letting go. When he spoke, his voice was completely different—cold, commanding, nothing like the urgent boy from thirty seconds ago.
"Miss Morrison will be attending her processing now. And I'll be personally reviewing her contract before she signs anything. Is that understood?"
Richardson's face was turning red. "Sir, this is highly irregular—"
"I said, is that understood?" The boy's voice cracked like a whip.
"Yes, Your Highness."
They led me away. I looked back once and saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me go with those guilty blue eyes.
A girl with perfect blonde hair appeared beside him, linking her arm through his possessively. "Really, Alex? The charity case? How predictable."
Alex. His name was Alex.
But that's not what made my heart stop.
It was the way he didn't pull away from her. The way he let her touch him like she had every right. The way he looked at me one last time with an expression I couldn't read before turning and walking away with her.
He'd said he would protect me. That I could trust him.
But he was already gone, leaving me with the guards and the contracts and the trap I couldn't escape.
They took me to an office where a woman in a business suit was waiting with a stack of papers.
"Miss Morrison. Please sit. We have several documents for you to sign."
I sat, my mind still reeling. Alex. Crown Prince Alexander. He'd known about the blackmail. He'd promised to help.
But he'd also let that blonde girl—his girlfriend? his fiancée?—call me "the charity case" without saying a word in my defense.
The woman pushed the first contract toward me. "This is your student agreement. Standard terms. Please sign here, here, and here."
I picked up the pen, remembering Alex's warning about page seventeen. I started to flip through the pages.
"Miss Morrison, we don't have all day."
"I'm reading what I'm signing."
Her smile was sharp. "Of course. Take your time."
I found page seventeen. Section C. Subsection four. It was exactly what Alex had said—one violation and I'd owe two million dollars.
My hands started shaking.
The door burst open.
Alex stood there, breathing hard like he'd been running. But he wasn't alone. Three adults in formal clothes were with him—they looked important. Official.
"Stop," Alex commanded. "Don't sign anything."
The woman stood up, furious. "Your Highness, you have no authority over—"
"Actually," one of the adults said smoothly, "the prince has just invoked his royal privilege to personally sponsor Miss Morrison's education. Which means all contracts go through him first."
The room went silent.
Alex's eyes locked on mine. "Trust me," he mouthed.
But the blonde girl from the hallway was standing in the doorway behind him, and she was smiling at me like a shark that smelled blood.
"This should be fun," she whispered.