The first day of senior year arrived with a bitter wind and the heavy silence of unwanted attention.

Lydia Hart stepped through the grand iron gates of St. Verona’s Academy, her worn shoes quiet on the marble walkway. Compared to the others—polished, glossy, and dressed in the latest designer uniforms—she was invisible. Or at least, she had been.

Until today.

“Look who’s back,” someone whispered.

Lydia’s gaze followed theirs—then froze.

A black Maserati pulled up, the engine's growl commanding silence. From it emerged a tall figure in a custom-tailored uniform, black blazer unbuttoned like he didn’t care about rules. His golden hair was slicked back, face sculpted like a Roman god, with piercing icy-blue eyes that scanned the courtyard like he owned it.

Jake Romano.

Her heart clenched.

He hadn’t been seen at school in almost two years. Whispers claimed he'd been in Sicily, learning how to run his family's empire—an empire built on blood, secrets, and money so old it could choke you.

Girls gasped as he passed. Boys stepped aside. Even teachers went stiff with forced smiles.

Jake didn’t acknowledge any of them. Not until his gaze landed on her.

Lydia’s breath caught.

For one terrifying second, their eyes locked. His were cold, unreadable—until something flickered in them. Interest. Curiosity. And something darker.

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure her out.

She turned away quickly and walked toward the main building, her fingers clutching the strap of her old backpack.

Don't look back, Lydia. Don’t give him attention. That’s how girls disappear into his world.

---

Jake watched her walk away.

That girl... she wasn’t here last time. He would’ve remembered someone like her—quiet, low profile, dressed like she didn’t belong in a place like this. But there was something captivating about how she held herself. Proud, despite the obvious contrast between her and the elite.

He smirked. A challenge.

“She’s the driver’s daughter,” Christy Simmons said beside him, slipping her arm through his. “Lydia Hart. Scholarship case. Totally below your level.”

Jake didn’t answer.

He had never cared for what was "his level." He took what he wanted. And right now, he wanted to know who the hell Lydia Hart was—and why just one glance from her made him forget every other name in this school.

---

Lydia’s first class was Literature. She slid into the back seat, praying no one would notice her.

Of course, someone did.

A boy named Alex Monroe gave her a warm smile and passed her a pencil she’d dropped. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

He seemed different. Calm. Kind. His uniform was neat but simple, his demeanor lacking the arrogance the others wore like cologne.

For a moment, she relaxed.

Until the door opened.

Jake walked in, and every student sat up straighter. The teacher stammered, mid-sentence.

Jake didn’t take a seat in the front. He walked to the back row. To where she sat.

And sat beside her.

She stared at the page in front of her, heart thundering.

“Lydia,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

She didn’t answer.

He leaned closer. “I don’t like being ignored.”

His words weren’t loud. But they were enough to make her skin prickle.

Alex looked back, eyes narrowing slightly.

And Jake smiled, the kind of smile that promised destruction.

The rules of the school had changed the moment Jake Romano returned.

And Lydia had just become the center of his obsession.

Lydia didn’t sleep that night.

Jake Romano’s presence beside her in class had shaken her more than she’d let anyone see. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that smirk. Heard his voice—low, commanding. Felt his stare, like it could strip her down to her bones.

She barely touched her dinner. Her father noticed, of course, but he didn’t press. He rarely did anymore. Years of being the Romano family’s driver had taught him when to stay quiet.

The next morning, she left early, hoping to slip into class unnoticed.

But he was already there.

Jake sat at her usual desk, one arm draped over the chair like he owned it—and maybe he did. Not the desk, but the school, the city. The power clung to him like smoke, thick and undeniable.

He didn’t move when she approached. Just stared at her with a lazy smile.

“You’re early,” she said carefully.

“I like your spot.”

“It’s not mine,” she replied, placing her bag two seats down. “You can have it.”

He raised a brow. “Running already?”

She didn’t reply.

Jake leaned forward, his voice velvet and menace. “You’re not like the rest of them.”

She stared ahead. “I don’t want to be.”

“I know.” He sounded amused. “That’s why you caught my eye.”

Lydia’s stomach twisted. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you think this is. I'm not part of your world.”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “But you live in my house, don’t you?”

Her breath caught. The reminder cut deeper than she expected.

“My father works for yours. I don’t,” she said quietly.

He leaned back, but his gaze never left her. “That’s a thin line, Lydia.”

The teacher walked in, and the tension dissolved—but it lingered like perfume. She could feel Jake's eyes on her for the rest of the class. Watching. Measuring. Claiming.

---

During lunch, Lydia slipped outside, away from the elite crowd and their designer gossip.

She found peace under an old oak tree, hidden behind the library. Her fingers flipped through a book she couldn’t focus on.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” a voice said.

She looked up.

Christy Simmons stood there, arms crossed, her blond curls and flawless makeup perfect as always. Her expression? Anything but.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please,” Christy scoffed. “Jake never looks at anyone twice. You show up in your secondhand skirt and suddenly he’s sitting next to you?”

Lydia rose slowly. “That’s not my choice.”

“Exactly,” Christy said sharply. “And here’s a tip—when Jake Romano chooses someone, he doesn’t let go. Even if it ruins them.”

The words hung heavy between them. Then Christy walked off, heels clicking against stone.

Lydia stood frozen.

Was it a warning… or a threat?

---

Jake stood in the shadows, unseen, watching the exchange.

He didn’t like the way Christy looked at Lydia. Or the way Lydia’s shoulders trembled after she left.

He hated that.

He wanted Lydia strong. Beautiful in her silence. Defiant in her fear.

And his.

Jake took out his phone and made a call.

“Have someone follow Christy,” he ordered. “She’s getting too mouthy.”

“But—”

“Now.”

He hung up and stepped into the sunlight.

Lydia flinched when she saw him.

He smiled.

“You shouldn’t talk to snakes,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. But now…” He stepped closer. “You’re starting to run out of them.”

She stared up at him, trembling.

And Jake Romano knew he had her exactly where he wanted.

Alex Monroe noticed things.

He noticed when Jake Romano started showing up to class early—something that had never happened before. He noticed the way Jake’s eyes always sought out Lydia, like she was the only person in the room. And most of all, he noticed how Lydia’s shoulders had slowly begun to hunch, like she was bracing herself for an impact that hadn’t come yet—but would.

Alex didn’t like it.

He sat beside her in Math class that day, casually placing his textbook between them and Jake’s hovering presence a few rows behind.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Lydia nodded. Too quickly.

“Hey,” Alex said, more firmly this time, “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

She hesitated, then gave a small, tired smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Jake Romano is not nothing.”

Her eyes flicked up in alarm. “Don’t say that too loud.”

Alex leaned back in his chair. “Why? Afraid he’ll break my nose?”

“He might.”

Alex smirked. “Let him try.”

Lydia’s lips twitched, almost a smile. And for a brief moment, she remembered what it felt like to breathe.

---

Jake watched them from across the room.

He didn’t hear what they said, but he didn’t need to. The way Alex leaned in, the way Lydia softened—it was enough to make his jaw tighten.

Who the hell did that boy think he was?

Jake had never cared about competition. Because there was never any. But seeing Lydia—his Lydia—smiling at someone else?

That was unacceptable.

The final bell rang, and students gathered their things. Jake didn’t move.

Alex turned to Lydia. “Walk with me?”

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

Jake’s fingers curled into fists.

---

They walked down the quiet hallway, Lydia clutching her books close.

“Jake’s dangerous,” Alex said once they were alone. “Everyone knows it. But you… I don’t think you realize just how deep it goes.”

“I do,” she said quietly.

Alex glanced at her. “Then why let him near you?”

She stopped walking. “You think I have a choice?”

“Maybe not with who your dad works for, or the school’s politics. But with me, you do. I can help you. If he’s bothering you, say the word. I’ll get you out.”

Lydia looked at him, really looked, and for the first time in a while, felt a flicker of safety.

“You’re kind, Alex. But you don’t understand—he’s not just dangerous. He’s everywhere.”

Alex nodded. “Then we’ll face him together.”

It was brave. Foolish, maybe. But it warmed something in her chest.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

---

Jake leaned against the black Mercedes in the parking lot, arms crossed, watching them approach.

“Lydia,” he said, calm but firm.

She froze. Alex moved slightly in front of her.

“Going somewhere with him?” Jake asked, cool gaze shifting to Alex. “That’s cute.”

“I don’t belong to you,” Lydia said quietly.

Jake pushed off the car and walked toward her. “No. But you will.”

Alex stepped in. “Back off.”

Jake’s smile was slow and cruel. “You really want to go there?”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Jake’s eyes gleamed. “Then you’re dumber than you look.”

Lydia stepped between them. “Stop it—both of you!”

Jake’s gaze dropped to her. “You think he’ll protect you?”

“I think he won’t control me.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “Then learn fast, Lydia. Because I don’t share. And I don’t lose.”

He turned and walked away, every step a silent promise.

Lydia’s hands trembled.

Alex placed his over hers. “I’m here.”

But in her gut, she already knew: Jake Romano wasn’t done.

He had only just begun.