Maven and Adrianna were born on opposite sides of a century-old feud-two scions of rival dynasties steeped in pride, power, and revenge. He's fire. She's ice. Their worlds were never meant to merge, yet fate orchestrates their collision with unrelen...
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It started with a glance—barely a flicker, really. But it was enough to send a ripple of dread crawling across my skin.
I had just stepped out of the library, blinking into the soft afternoon sun as it washed over the campus courtyard. The kind of day that should've felt calm. Safe. Instead, my heart stuttered the moment I saw her.
Camilla.
She stood just beyond the tiled path, her silhouette crisp in a tailored blazer and stilettos, her bun immaculately pinned like Manila humidity had no effect on her whatsoever. Of course she wasn't alone. Some polished man in a button-down walked beside her, gesturing as he spoke.
But she wasn't listening to him.
She was watching me.
Not passively. Not politely. Her gaze was locked on mine—sharp, calculating, curious in that way only Camilla could pull off without a single word. It wasn't a hello. It was a warning.
I held her stare for a second, maybe less, just long enough to register it wasn't accidental. Then I turned on my heel and ducked into the nearest hallway, pretending to check my phone as my pulse spiked.
Why was she here?
Later that day, I was scrolling through messages when one lit up our group chat for the upcoming moot court.
Pia: "Hey Dri, someone said they saw you at Serendra late last night. That true?"
I stared at the screen, my heart jumping to my throat. Typing... deleted. Typing...
Me: "Yeah. Got coffee with a friend. Why?"
Pua: "Just curious. Camilla was at my mom's brunch this morning. She asked a lot about you."
I froze.
Asked a lot about me?
I set my phone face down on my desk, trying not to shake. My fingers were cold. My breath came too fast.
She knew.
Or at least she suspected.
I hadn't seen Maven since that night at Café France. We agreed to stop with the impulsive meetups. No more reckless messages unless it was on Signal. We even untagged old group photos. I'd combed through my Instagram like a guilty criminal, scrubbing away any clues, even if they weren't obvious. Even if they weren't about him.
And still—Camilla was sniffing around.
She was too smart, too precise, and far too territorial to be asking about me without a reason.
My chest tightened as I leaned back into the cold wooden chair. My skin itched like the walls were closing in. I didn't even have to imagine the headlines: Sobreviñas Heiress Spotted with De Talavera Prodigy. Drama Rekindled?
This thing with Maven—it started as fire. Something reckless and hot and unspeakably good. But now? It was dangerous. A storm under the surface.
