Keifer Pov:
Power is a language.
At King's Crown University, London, everyone spoke it fluently—
but only a few were born bilingual.
I was one of them.
Being a Watson didn't just mean wealth. It meant legacy. My great-grandfather built an empire that swallowed smaller corporations whole. My father turned it global. And one day—whether I wanted it or not—it would be mine.
Final year. Business & Finance. Straight A's without trying.
Captain of the basketball team.
Heir apparent.
People didn't hate me.
They feared me.
And fear was easier to manage.
"Bro," Liam muttered beside me as we crossed the courtyard, "if one more girl trips over her own feet staring at you, I'm filing a public safety complaint."
I didn't bother responding.
Liam Carter—future head of Carter Investments—walked like the world owed him money.
Easy smile. Sharp brain. The only person on campus who talked to me like I wasn't a loaded gun.
Behind us, the rest of our circle followed.
David Sinclair—oil dynasty, calculating eyes, always three moves ahead.
Raymond Hale—tech heir, permanently bored, genius when he cared.
Ethan Blackwood—old British banking blood, charm weaponized.
Five heirs. Five futures already written in ink.
We didn't rule the university officially.
But everyone knew better than to cross us.
"Final year first lecture month," Ray said lazily. "Can't believe we're almost done."
"Shame," Ethan replied. "I was just starting to enjoy terrifying first-years."
David smirked. "Keifer doesn't terrorize. He annihilates silently."
I shot him a look. "Focus on your own reputation, Sinclair."
Liam laughed. "See? That's why no one messes with you. You sound like a corporate villain."
Maybe I was.
The lecture hall was packed—final-year students settling in, whispers dying the moment we took our seats. I chose the back row, as usual. Control didn't require proximity.
The professor entered—older and calm.
"Welcome Seniors it's your last year and then you'll be ruiling some GDP's.."
Some boys hooted....
I ignored.
"As you all already know" he began, clearing his throat, "this month's module will be… different."
A few groans rippled through the room.
I leaned back, arms crossed. Same nonsense every year.
"Something new which is not found in books but is practiced in the real world and for something like this I will not be teaching this section."
That earned some laughs.
Still, I didn't react.
Then he said—
"But a junior student will."
That made me look up.
The room erupted instantly.
"A junior?"
"This is final year material!"
"Is this a joke?"
The professor raised his voice. "Silence.I understand your concerns. But this is not an ordinary student we are talking about."
My attention sharpened.
"She is a first-year student," he continued, "yet a certified prodigy in business strategy. She currently owns multiple ventures—each independently profitable."
A she!!??
That was… unexpected.
I straightened slightly.
"Her work in this field being so young is commendable and it " the professor added, "is already included in your curriculum as case study's.
"In fact—she is the co-author of the thesis you studied last semester,the thesis you all struggled through last semester except for Mr. Watson. "
Dead silence.
Liam leaned forward. "You're kidding," he whispered.
Not even a breath.
I felt something unfamiliar tighten in my chest.
That thesis had been brutal. Innovative. Ruthless.The thesis that I had aced but still lingered in my mind like a silent ghost.
The kind of thinking that didn't belong to a student—let alone a first-year.
Liam leaned in. "Okay," he whispered, "now I'm interested."
"So seniors I expect discipline,from each and every one of you especially the boys. " the professor said firmly.
"You will show her the respect she deserves."
Then he stepped aside.
The door opened.
She walked in like she had always belonged here.
Confident. Unshaken. Glasses framing sharp eyes that scanned the room once—efficiently. Hair slicked back. No hesitation in her stride.
She didn't look intimidated.
She didn't look impressed.
She looked… prepared.
And for the first time in years—
My mind stalled.
Because whoever this girl was—
I had a feeling would ruin me for good....
Jasper Jean Mariano (Jay's POV:)
Power had followed me my whole life.
I just learned early how to keep it quiet.
King's Crown University buzzed with the kind of ambition that made the air feel sharp—every student here believed they were destined for something larger than themselves.
Heirs. Prodigies. Futures wrapped in tailored suits and unspoken arrogance.
I blended in anyway.
First-year. Business track. Glasses. Neutral clothes. Head down.
No one needed to know I was a Mariano.
The Mariano name didn't announce itself—it dismantled systems silently. Old money. Older influence. The kind that didn't need validation or applause. I had been raised to understand one thing very clearly:
Real power never introduces itself.
"Jay," Lily said, looping her arm through mine as we crossed the quad, "you're walking too fast."
I slowed instinctively.
Lily—bright, observant, sharp in a way that missed nothing. She smiled easily, but there was steel beneath it. People often underestimated her.
They shouldn't have.
Sarah and Dale walked ahead of us, deep in conversation.
Prominent heirs in their own right, though none of us made a habit of advertising it.
We had grown up in the same circles, trained in the same quiet rules. Loyalty first. Ego last.
"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Lily asked. "Final-year lecture halls are… feral."
I smiled faintly. "It's your brother's class,so I can handle it..."
She groaned. "Don't remind me. Liam will never let this go."
I paused, turning to her. "I'll introduce myself properly after. I promise."
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "You've got this. And if any of those boys try something—"
"I can handle them," I finished calmly.
Lily snorted. "That's what scares me."
The truth was—I wasn't nervous.
I was focused.
A month ago, I had buried Damian.
My Best friend. Brother in every way that mattered. The other half of my mind.
We had written the thesis together late nights and too much coffee, tearing ideas apart and rebuilding them stronger. He had wanted to study here—King's Crown. Said it was the perfect battlefield.
If one of us gets in, he'd said, we both do.
So here I was.
For him.
The professor and the college administration had approached me quietly. Respectfully.They knew exactly who I was—even if the rest of the university didn't.
I refused at first because I didn't want to stand in a seniors class not that I couldn't but it just never felt right but then when they mentioned,
Damian.
It changed because I had promised him that I wouldn't hide from the world and that our thesis should help students in any way it can...
I said yes.
The professor was relieved but then he said,
They won't like it, he had warned.
I had adjusted my glasses and replied, They don't have to.
Outside the lecture hall, I took a single breath.
Then I pushed the door open.
The noise died instantly.
Final-year students filled the room—older, sharper, louder. Eyes turned toward me, some curious, some skeptical, some openly irritated.
I felt it then.
The shift.
I didn't rush. Didn't hesitate. I walked in like I had earned every step—because I had. My heels clicked softly against the floor as I made my way to the front, gaze lifting only once to scan the room.
Not fear.
Not intimidation.
Recognition.
"Thank you professor Smith, I'll take over from here. "
He left with a good luck whisper.
I stopped at the podium, set my notes down neatly, and faced the room.
"Good morning,Seniors" I said calmly. "I'm Jasper Jean Mariano, you can call me professor Jay. "
That's when I felt it -
Something dangerous was awaiting me.