Everyone knew that Angelique was Raymond Ainsworth’s only weakness—the sole flaw in the otherwise untouchable heir of the prestigious Ainsworth family.

He placed her on a pedestal, as if he would pluck the stars from the sky just to lay them at her feet.

And when Angelique wished for it, Raymond sent their enemies straight to hell.

Even when the once-revered prince had fallen to nothing more than a rat scurrying through the sewers, Raymond never once thought of letting go of Angelique’s hand.

"Angeli, I will never let anything hurt you," he whispered.

But she only smiled.

Outside, police sirens wailed through the night. She pulled her hand away from his grasp, her cold eyes meeting Raymond’s shocked, bloodshot ones.

"Did you ever... even love me?" His voice trembled as he asked.

"Never," Angelique spat coldly.

——

Wrapped in a cheap coat and carrying a worn-out backpack, Angelique walked through the elite academy that gathered the nation’s most distinguished heirs.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she veered away from the main school buildings, heading instead toward a secluded garden.

The dense forest ahead seemed endless, shrouded in a biting morning chill that made her shiver.

Then, at last, she saw it—a fountain adorned with sculptures. A hint of a smile finally graced her delicate features.

'Found it,' she muttered internally.

Not far from the fountain stood a transparent glass conservatory.

The moment she pushed open the door, warmth and humidity enveloped her. The air was thick with the intoxicating fragrance of rare flowers, each petal a silent testament to the owner's noble status.

She carefully concealed the darkness in her gaze beneath her long lashes, replacing it with an innocent, harmless expression.

Taking a seat on a bench deep within the conservatory, she rubbed her frozen palms together.

With a soft, aggrieved pout, she murmured, "I should’ve taken the main road. This school is like a maze—I can’t even find the exit."

She pulled a folded map from her backpack, scanning for the direction of the main teaching building.

Just then, a girl’s voice called from outside.

"Raymond! Raymond, are you in the conservatory?"

Angelique was just about to respond when a cold hand suddenly clamped over her mouth.

Another arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly pulling her into the shadows of the trees.

The unexpected attack left her momentarily stunned, her mind scrambling for clarity.

The man's large hand covered her nose and mouth, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Panic surged through her as she struggled violently.

"Don't move," a low, icy voice murmured in her ear. "Or I'll kill you."

The chilling words pierced through her fogged thoughts like a gust of winter wind.

At this school, even the most shocking incidents could be dismissed as mere accidents.

She had no doubt—if he said he’d kill her, he meant it.

Her body tensed before she slowly nodded, her hands gripping his wrist as she carefully pulled his hand away from her face.

She could feel his hesitation.

His fingers stiffened under her touch, but as if afraid she would resist, he didn’t tighten his grip again.

Raymond had never held a girl this close before.

She smelled nothing like the perfume-drenched socialites who always surrounded him. Instead, a faint scent of fresh grass lingered on her, surprisingly pleasant.

Moments ago, he had been fuming over Daphne’s relentless pestering. Yet now, an odd sense of calm washed over him, and unknowingly, his grip loosened slightly.

Angelique finally took a sharp breath, air rushing into her lungs. As her mind cleared, she tilted her head slightly, catching sight of the figure behind her through the shifting shadows.

He was at least a head taller than her.

The scent of mint and a trace of tobacco clung to his skin—a far cry from the overpowering stench of cigarettes she was used to.

Angelique couldn’t help but take another breath, drawing in the faint scent lingering on him.

The body that had encircled Angelique was visibly tense—ironically, he seemed more like the one trapped.

The woman who had called out earlier took a brief glance around the conservatory. Finding it empty, she mumbled something under her breath before quickly leaving.

Only after confirming that she was truly gone did the man finally release Angelique.

This elite academy was established by the Ainsworth family, and the conservatory belonged exclusively to Raymond. No matter how wealthy or powerful the students here were, no one dared to trespass—except, of course, Daphne, who had just been searching for him.

Raymond took his time examining the girl before him, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.

A pair of worn-out sneakers. A cheap, textureless coat. But above all that—her delicate, palm-sized face was a masterpiece of striking features. Full, rosy lips. A high, dainty nose. And most unforgettable of all—her wide, doe-like eyes blinking up at him.

Snowflakes clung to her long, thick lashes, melting into droplets that trembled before falling as she blinked.

Raymond had seen countless beautiful women before. In the upper class society, beauty was the least rare commodity.

With a single wave of his hand, thousands of women would throw themselves at his feet. Yet, for some reason, the way this girl looked at him—without any calculation, without any hidden motives—felt different.

'She doesn’t know who I am,' he thought. The realization settled in his chest.

"Are you the new scholarship student?" he asked.

Angelique bit her lower lip, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. She nodded.

"First year?"

"Third," she timidly answered.

Raymond raised a brow. "You transferred in your third year?"

"My family can’t afford to send me to college," she admitted softly. "If I get accepted here, then I'll qualify for the scholarship—it covers my tuition for all four years of university."

As she spoke, her bright eyes gleamed with quiet determination.

Like a single leaf drifting onto a still lake, sending ripples outward—only to vanish moments later.

An unfamiliar itch stirred in Raymond’s chest.

"What class?"

"A-Class..."

Even among the elite, there were rankings.

A-Class was exclusively for the heirs of old-money families—the absolute top of the hierarchy.

The only exception was the annual scholarship student.

"You’re planning to walk into class dressed like that?"

Angelique glanced down at her out-of-place coat, her expression filled with embarrassment. "A set of winter uniforms costs tens of thousands. I-"

Before she could finish, Raymond—who had always been aloof and untouchable—suddenly grabbed her wrist.

He had already noticed earlier—her arms were frighteningly thin, like a white jasmine swaying in the wind, fragile enough to snap with the slightest force.

And now, with her wrist in his grasp, he confirmed it.

'Does she even eat? Her cheeks still carried a hint of baby fat, yet her body was this frail.'

Of course, Angelique had no idea what he was thinking. From her perspective, all she saw were his sharp, phoenix-shaped eyes—dark and unreadable.

The distant melody of a symphony rang through the air. The class bell.

Angelique’s eyes widened in panic. "Oh no! I’m late!"

She slung her backpack over her shoulder, ready to bolt.

But before she could take a step, Raymond effortlessly grabbed the strap, stopping her in her tracks.

Desperation welled up in her eyes. "Please, I’m begging you! It’s my first day! If I’m late, I’ll lose my perfect attendance!"

At this academy, the girls fell into two categories—those who adored Raymond and those who feared him.

But someone like Angelique? That was a first.

The dull routine of school life had long bored him, yet now, for the first time in a while, something piqued his interest.

"Dressed like this, I guarantee you won’t last half a day before the other girls tear you apart."

Angelique’s grip on her backpack straps tightened. "But I-"

"Wait here. Don’t run off."

Raymond grabbed the suit jacket he had tossed aside earlier and pulled out his ID badge, throwing it into her hands.

Angelique cradled it carefully, reading out the name inscribed on it, word by word. "Ray... Raymond Ainsworth! You’re the chairman’s son?!"

Her reaction clearly amused him.

A smirk played at the corner of Raymond’s lips as he reached out and ruffled her hair. "Take this badge to the logistics office. Tell them to get you a uniform."

"No way! That’s way too much! I—I can’t afford to pay you back."

Raymond shot her a sharp glare. "You think I care about the cost of a school uniform?"

Angelique said nothing, but the way her puppy-like eyes drooped with grievance spoke volumes.

'Damn it,' he mentally cussed.

Raymond wondered if he had lost his mind. He had always preferred mature, curvaceous women, yet today—because of this tiny, scrawny thing—his mood had been fluctuating all over the place.

"If you’re really that uncomfortable with it, then let’s make a deal," he said lazily. "From now on, in this school, I’ll be your master, and you’ll be my servant. Whatever I say, you do."

Angelique’s eyes flickered with hesitation. "But..."

Raymond assumed she was unwilling, so he added, "I’ll even pay you a salary. You name the price."

"Deal!" Angelique agreed instantly.

Raymond’s lips twitched. So that hesitation just now—it was all because the money wasn’t good enough yet?!

Shaking his head, he instructed, "Once you leave the conservatory, walk straight ahead. When you see the rose garden, take a right—that’ll lead you to the academic building."

With that, he stretched out on the bench, draping his suit jacket over his face, and lazily waved her off.

As Angelique stepped out of the greenhouse, the softness in her expression vanished. The delicate, pitiful gleam in her big eyes was replaced by an icy sharpness.

She lowered her gaze, staring at the wrist Raymond had grabbed. Without a word, she pulled a pack of wet wipes from her backpack and meticulously wiped the spot clean.

"Master? Servant? How ridiculous!"

The wind whispered through the dense trees, carrying her quiet murmur into the void.

"Sis, was it really someone this foolish who got you killed?"

There was no answer.

One year ago, Angelique’s sister had died here.

They said she had fallen from the school’s rooftop late at night.

A ridiculous explanation. It was then that Angelique first understood what "nobility" truly meant—a world that devoured people whole, leaving not even bones behind.

She and her sister, Jillian, had been separated from birth. Their parents had never married, so they only discovered each other’s existence later in life. Despite being raised a thousand kilometers apart, they had grown incredibly close.

She still remembered the day her sister had called, excited beyond words.

"I got in! As long as I meet the academic requirements, the scholarship will cover everything—even tuition at the world’s top universities! I’m going to make a name for myself in the future!"

Yet, not even two months after enrolling, she died.

Angelique never believed their so-called "accident" explanation. And when she read through her sister’s journal, everything became clear.

At the heart of it all was a name—Raymond. He was the heir to the Ainsworth Holdings, the man who held the country’s economy in the palm of his hand.