All because of an argument with his childhood friend, Daphne, Raymond had lashed out with cutting words. Unfortunately, Angelique’s sister had overheard them while passing by.
Pointing at her, Raymond had sneered as he spat, "Even if I were to fall for a poor scholarship student, it would never be you. Do you get it now?"
Daphne had known perfectly well that Angelique’s sister was just an excuse—just a pawn in Raymond’s rejection of her.
But she hadn’t cared.
From that day forward, Angelique’s sister had been subjected to relentless torment, a nightmare that only ended when she was driven to the rooftop.
Angelique knew that the greenhouse was Raymond’s private sanctuary. She believed he was nothing more than a spoiled, arrogant young master who thinks the world revolves around him.
But no matter how high and mighty he believes himself to be, he was still just a man.
And men, when faced with a seemingly helpless woman, are often ruled by their misguided sense of heroism. That was the mistake Raymond made the moment he laid eyes on her.
Angelique had recognized the girl searching for Raymond earlier—it was Daphne.
Unexpectedly, she had played right into Angelique’s hands.
She clenched the ID badge in her fist as she murmured, "Daphne, Raymond. You people, who see human lives as nothing more than dust beneath your feet—I will make sure you pay the price you deserve."
—
It was rare for a scholarship student to transfer during senior year—let alone one who strolled in close to ten o’clock.
A mere scholarship student had the audacity to arrive this late?
The privileged young heirs of the academy were far from pleased.
Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on the classroom entrance.
Angelique followed the homeroom teacher inside, her pace steady and unhurried.
The Yale University girls’ uniform was selected by a school-wide vote—a fitted dark blue blazer paired with a high-waisted, body-hugging skirt in a Korean-inspired design. Since the school building was fully enclosed with 24/7 heating, winter coats were unnecessary.
The moment Angelique removed her coat, the entire room fell silent.
All eyes were drawn to her long, slender legs.
The curve-hugging blazer accentuated her delicate waist, while her long brown hair cascaded effortlessly over her shoulders. Her fair, makeup-free face was tinged with a natural rosy hue—like an innocent rabbit that had wandered into a den of wolves.
The boys erupted into whistles and cheers. But Angelique was far more attuned to the silent hostility lurking beneath the noise.
She shifted her gaze slightly, locking eyes with Daphne and her entourage.
In person, Daphne was not nearly as stunning as the investigation files had suggested. She had a cold, synthetic beauty—the kind enhanced by technology rather than nature.
Faced with Angelique’s effortlessly angelic looks, hostility burned bright in Daphne’s eyes.
Angelique feigned obliviousness, blinking innocently before offering a polite, friendly smile.
Daphne despised women who were prettier than her. And a lowly, worthless scholarship student like Angelique? How dare she possess such a face?!
The homeroom teacher, knowing the privileged students would never truly welcome a scholarship recipient, kept the introduction brief.
"This is Angelique Monroe. Take that empty seat in the back."
Angelique followed the direction of his gesture—only to meet a pair of gentle, warm eyes.
Soft chestnut bangs fell over his brow, naturally drawing attention to his clear, deep gaze.
The man nodded at her in greeting before turning to look out the window.
'Daryl Thompson.' She repeated the name in her mind.
The boy her sister had written about over and over in her diary.
The boy she had secretly loved.
The one who had smiled at her, called her name with kindness, tutored her in subjects she struggled with.
Yet, when rumors about her and Raymond spread, he had crushed her confession with brutal finality.
He had said—"I was just curious about your relationship with Raymond. You didn’t actually think I liked you, did you? A pathetic, low-class girl like you?"
