I think it’s about time. I know you missed them as much as I do. So yah, welcome back Margaux!
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Margaux Ysabelle Harlow was sixteen—and untouchable.
Heiress. Socialite. Legacy. Her name opened doors, cleared rooms, and turned heads before she even walked in. She had the power of old money, the beauty of a Hollywood starlet, and the temper of someone who had never been told no.
Until she was.
One very public, very chaotic catfight landed her front and center on social media for all the wrong reasons—and just like that, Margaux was expelled from the exclusive school she once ruled. Her parents, done cleaning up her messes, sent her somewhere even stricter. Older. Colder.
They sent her to The House of Langford.
An elite institution tucked deep in New England, where children of royalty, politicians, and billionaires were raised not just to lead—but to dominate. It wasn’t just a school. It was a kingdom. With traditions older than the country itself, crests on the stone walls, and rumors of secret societies behind every velvet curtain.
Margaux hated it.
Until he walked in.
Professor Michael Jackson.
Not a joke. Not a pop star. Not someone you could laugh at—not when he looked like that.
He was tall and sculpted like a marble statue, with a razor-sharp jaw and tightly curled dark hair that looked maddeningly soft. His skin glowed like burnished bronze under the soft Langford lighting, and his deep brown eyes were unreadable—serious, stoic, dangerous.
He wore his suits like armor. Spoke in clipped sentences. Never smiled.
And most shocking of all—he didn’t care who Margaux Harlow was.
Didn’t look twice. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flirt.
He was completely, painfully unmoved.
And Margaux had never been so obsessed.
Because all her life, she had everything she wanted.
But now?
She wanted something she couldn’t have.
Him.
And she’d burn Langford to the ground if that’s what it took.
