Callum Vance was used to getting what he wanted.
He had the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers—sharpened cheekbones, a sculpted jawline, and eyes so piercing they made people uncomfortable when he stared too long. His copper-toned hair, always perfectly tousled, completed the ensemble. Wealth, intelligence, charm—he had all the tools. But what made him truly dangerous wasn't any of those things.
It was the belief that he was better than everyone else.
To outsiders, Callum was quiet. Polished. A little cold, maybe, but never rude. He spoke only when necessary, never raised his voice, never laughed too loud. He was the kind of student who always topped the charts but never bragged about it. He didn't need to. People just knew.
But behind that perfect posture and calm demeanor was a boy with a god complex.
He didn't see it as arrogance. He called it self-awareness.
Until she came.
Eira Vale didn't arrive with fanfare. She simply appeared one day—quiet, observant, always sitting in the back of the class. Her hair was messy in a way that looked unintentional, and her clothes were always a little oversized, like she was trying not to be seen. But it wasn't her looks that bothered Callum.
It was the way she made him feel... challenged.
He had always been the smartest person in the room—until now. Eira didn't speak much, but when she did, it was sharp, precise, and impossible to counter. She didn't try to compete with him. She didn't need to. She simply existed on his level, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He hated her for it.
He hated that she could match him. That she didn't care about him. That she could make him feel... second.
"She's going to regret crossing paths with me," Callum murmured to himself as he stared out the library window, fingers drumming rhythmically on the table. "I still have a few aces up my sleeve."
"You look weird. What's going on in that narcissist brain of yours?"
Callum flinched. He didn't notice Theo had arrived until his best friend flopped onto the chair beside him. Theo had the kind of smile that could defuse a bomb—and the emotional intelligence of a rock.
"Mind your own business."
"Oof. That's the thank-you I get for saving your ass from that finance quiz last week?"
Callum gave him a sideways glance. "Don't remind me."
Theo grinned, entirely unbothered. "Anyway, I'm meeting Juliet in fifteen. Want to tag along?"
Callum's expression immediately darkened.
Juliet Vance. His fraternal twin.
She was loud, dramatic, and exhausting in every way. And ever since she and Theo started dating, Callum had seriously reconsidered both his tolerance for noise and his taste in friends.
"I'd rather slam my head in a locker," he said flatly.
Theo winced. "Yikes. She's your sister, man."
"Exactly."
Right on cue, Juliet's voice sliced through the air like a dagger.
"Well, well, if it isn't my dear, rude twin brother," she drawled, approaching with practiced flair. Her dark curls bounced with each dramatic step. "You ignored my texts again. I swear, Callum, you're impossible. Dad's going to hear about this."
Callum didn't even look up. "Tell him I said hi."
Juliet rolled her eyes, but her frustration disappeared the moment she saw Theo. With an exaggerated sigh and a flirtatious grin, she draped herself over him like a blanket.
Callum stood. "Gross," he muttered.
He didn't wait for a response. The PDA was his cue to leave.
The library was no place for affection, and definitely not for Juliet's voice. He headed toward the university halls, needing distance from the chaos.
Despite being born into privilege, Callum refused to let his parents' wealth define him. Unlike Theo and Juliet, who openly reveled in their family's influence—owning shares in the university, throwing parties like royalty—Callum kept his distance. He had declined every offer to place his name on buildings or projects.
He was building something bigger. For himself.
At sixteen, he already held multiple degrees. Ambitious, relentless, and unshakably self-assured, he was convinced greatness wasn't just his destiny—it was his birthright.
As he walked past the grand gymnasium, something—or rather someone—caught his eye.
Eira.
Sitting alone on a bench, her eyes lost in the clouds, her shoulders hunched like the sky weighed on them.
She was crying.
He paused.
A part of him lit up with opportunity. She was vulnerable. Distracted. Easy to mess with. Maybe now was the time to start playing the game.
But another part of him—the quieter, confused part—froze.
She looked... different. Not strong. Not sharp. Just... sad.
And something about that made him hesitate.
He wasn't used to seeing people cry. Not like this. Not silently. Not people like her.
The bell rang, but he didn't move.
"This is it," he thought. "She's about to learn who's really in charge here."
But for the first time in a long while, Callum wasn't entirely sure if he meant it.