My fingers tapped the table in a restless rhythm beside my phone, which lit up uselessly with the time, 6:14 PM.

Franko was late. Again.

Normally, I wouldn't care. He lived on his own ridiculous clock, and I'd grown used to his chaotic sense of time. But tonight, every second dragged like it knew I was waiting.

The small café I sat in, tucked between two towering office buildings, should have been comforting. Dark wood tables, warm golden lights, and the scent of freshly brewed espresso curled through the air like a soft blanket. Soft conversations floated around me, punctuated by the clink of spoons against ceramic cups.

But I couldn't focus on any of it.

Not with the folder digging into my lap like a loaded secret.

He belongs to you now.

Mother's voice echoed through my head again. As if Wallace Aldridge was some cursed heirloom, handed down to ruin the next generation. Not a person but a burden.

But my plan was simple.

Let him hate me enough to end it himself.

He gets his freedom. I get mine. And Mother can't say a thing if I play the part of the heartbroken, abandoned fiancée.

Sure, she'll still scold me for "not keeping him in line" or for "letting him embarrass us," but that's better than being dragged into a marriage I never asked for.

One more disappointed look from her wouldn't kill me... probably.

The bell above the door chimed, slicing through my thoughts.

Franko strolled in with his usual grin and the drip of someone who'd never been on time in his life.

"The nerve of you to be late," I said, waving my phone at him. "Again."

He slid into the seat across from me. "Aww, you counted the minutes? I'm touched."

"I counted how many ways I'd kill you after the fifteen-minute mark."

The idiot just winked. "Love you too, Ree."

"Cut the crap," I muttered.

We ordered quickly.

I let Franko ramble about completely random nonsense for a few minutes before pulling the folder from my lap and dropping it on the table with a pointed thud.

He blinked at it and then grumbled under his breath. "Oh, come on. Homework? On our sacred Friday?"

The server returned with our drinks just as I opened my mouth.

Franko didn't miss a beat, turning the rizz up to eleven. I kicked him under the table the second the poor girl, blushing like mad, finally walked away.

"Be serious," I hissed.

He grinned, took a sip from his drink, and flipped open the folder.

When he saw Wallace's name on the first page, his grin widened. "Oooohhh, you've come to the right person. Let me give you some tips on seducing—"

"I'm trying to prevent the engagement," I said flatly.

His mouth hung open for half a second too long.

"...Wait. Seriously?"

"Dead serious."

"Damn. This is new. You're actually rebelling against your mom? Is this real life?" He leaned back, grinning. "And here I thought I was gonna lose my best girl to some random groom."

"Exactly why she can't find out."

I stirred my coffee slowly, trying to disguise the shake in my hand. The thought of Mother finding out sent ice down my spine.

She couldn't. Ever.

Franko leaned in, excited now. "Okay, tell me the plan."

A slow, sly smile curved my lips. "Let the bad boy do all the dirty work."

"You mean, make him blow up the engagement for you?"

I nodded. "Exactly. If he dumps me in public, it's perfect. I'll just play the victim."

I leaned back, letting the idea settle between us.

"First, I need to make sure Mother sees me doing everything right. She has to believe I'm truly trying and giving this arranged marriage my all. From getting to know him, getting close, to slowly and helplessly falling for him. So when he finally ends things, my heartbreak looks real and I look just pitiful enough to escape the blame."

I paused, tapping my nail lightly against my glass.

For some reason, my mind flashed back to the way Wallace always tapped his fingers in a steady rhythm, during that suffocating dinner and even the first time we met at school.

Why does he do that so much? A nervous habit? Or something else?

I shook the thought off and refocused.

"Second, the breakup needs to be messy. Big and public. The more dramatic it is, the more people will take my side. I need their sympathy for this plan to work."

Franko let out a low whistle. "That's lit. You're really in your villain era, huh? Loki could never."

Villain? Survival, maybe.

He paused. "But like... what if your mom just finds you someone worse? Now what?"

I sighed, then shrugged. "That's future Desiree's problem."

He eyed me. "Okay, but why this desperate? Why not just marry him and live off the Aldridge name?"

Ugh. This guy, seriously...

"Duh? I'm not even of legal age yet. And you know how I feel about boys with no future."

Franko raised an eyebrow. "No future? He's Wallace freaking Aldridge."

"Exactly," I said, crossing my arms. "He's rich—well, his parents are. Maybe even talented, if those agencies trying to sign him before weren't bluffing. But what's he doing with it? Nothing. Just fighting, partying, wasting it all. That's just pathetic."

Franko sighed. "Ree ree... you don't know him or what happened—"

"I know enough. He's all flash, no fire. And like he said so himself, I sure as hell ain't marrying a stranger. A spoiled stranger who acts like he's the main character every time he breathes."

He took another sip. "Mmhmm. You just gave a strong 'it's nothing personal' but it's starting to sound real personal energy."

I narrowed my eyes. "I didn't."

"You kinda did." He smirked. "For someone tryna dodge this boy, you're analyzing him like he's midterms. I may or may not be starting a ship."

I blinked. "A what?"

"Nothing." He leaned forward again. "Want me to transfer to your school and help execute this whole op?"

I scoffed. "No. You'll just add to my headaches."

"Rude. I'm a tactical genius. I've infiltrated hostile territory before—remember ballet club?"

I rolled my eyes. "You dislocated your ankle on day three."

"Still showed up. In tights. For love."

"You limped."

"I limped for love." He clutched his chest like a tragic Romeo, and I had to fight a laugh.

"You're not transferring," I said.

Franko pouted. "It's just that... it sucks not seeing you every day. School's boring without you."

Something in his voice softened the air between us. For a moment, everything hushed.

"Same," I said quietly.

He perked up. "Want the weekly hot tea? You know I've got some."

"Go on," I said. "Entertain me."

As he launched into a dramatic play-by-play of his chaotic week, I realized how much I needed this.

Needed him. In a world of fake smiles and empty conversations, Franko was real. He didn't expect me to be perfect. He never had.

And for a while, I forgot about Wallace. Forgot about Mother. Forgot about the cage closing in.

"Thanks," I murmured.

He paused mid-sentence. "For what?"

"For being stupid."

He flashed his brightest grin. "It's a full-time job, babe."

I smiled and tugged the folder back toward me.

"Alright. Back to business," I said, focus returning like a blade clicking into place. "We've got an engagement to sabotage."

Franko clinked his glass against mine. "Operation Get Dumped To Win, let's gooo."

๋࣭ °࣪ ִ⭑․𓃠⭒˚.• ݁

By the time I stepped into class Monday morning, the halls were already feral. Whispers clung to me like glitter and eyes followed every step I took.

I didn't need to guess why.

"Desiree!" Alaia's voice boomed from the back of the room.

I turned slowly, slipping on my signature smile. "Yes?"

"Is it true?" she asked, eyes wide. "You and Wallace are engaged?"

What? How did they know? Our families hadn't announced anything. Unless...

Was it him?

It didn't matter. The wildfire was already lit. So I might as well use it to make my first move.

I kept my smile in place, lowering my gaze slightly as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, just enough to suggest a blush without needing one.

"Well... I don't know. Is it true, or is it not?" I said in a sing-song tone. Vague enough to spark chaos, soft enough to suggest something more.

Our families had only just met to talk about marriage, so I couldn't confirm anything yet.

But I needed them to start believing I had a crush on Wallace. It was the only way the final part of the plan would work.

And clearly, that was all they needed.

Gasps followed like clockwork. Conversation exploded. Phones were subtly whipped out. I had become the trending topic they eat up.

Daughter of a media mogul rumored to be engaged to the son of a high-profile politician? It practically begged to be feasted.

Before the chatter could die down, another voice piped up from the back. "I heard Wallace has been hanging out with that new girl. Audrey. They've been lowkey spotted everywhere."

"Oh my god, yes," Ember jumped in. "The feisty transfer who stood up to Emily's group for bullying that freshman?"

"Yep. That's her," another girl chimed in. "She entered the school's singing contest after Emily dared her. If she lost, she'd be their slave for a week. If she won, their bullying had to stop. Then she pointed at Wallace and told the whole cafeteria he'd be her partner. He was literally just walking by!"

"No way." Ember gasped. "Did he say yes?"

"No clue. And be for real, like Wallace would agree to that," the girl continued, lowering her voice, like it was a confession. "But get this, he's been laughing. Like, laughing. Like a real human."

Alaia covered her mouth. "Okay but, has anyone ever seen him laugh?"

"You know what they say," Ember grinned, leaning forward. "If the bad boy's smiling, someone cracked the code."

"But he's never even dated anyone," Alaia whispered. "Did he fall in love at first sight?"

From the front, Jaclyn, Fictus Academy's reigning queen bee scoffed loud enough to ruin the moment.

"Please," she drawled. "She's probably just a fling. He'll get bored of her by midterms. Now shut the hell up and give me some peace. It's too early for this shit."

Just like that, the vibe snapped. Followed by a few shrugs, eye-rolls, and the sound of chairs creaking as people shifted back into place.

The bell rang. I slid into my seat, pulled out my book and pretended to read.

Feisty, huh?

My lips curved upward slightly.

Even better.

If this Audrey really had Wallace's attention, maybe she could be useful.

๋࣭ °࣪ ִ⭑․𓃠⭒˚.• ݁

That afternoon, the corridors of Fictus Academy felt cooler, quieter. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting geometric shadows across the floor. Glass and granite reflected a muted kind of elegance.

I carried a sealed folder for the principal, another errand from Mrs. Harris. Being Vice President of the Student Council came with its fair share of glorified messenger duties.

I paused outside the office and knocked twice. My practiced smile was already in place by the time I stepped in.

"Good afternoon, Principal Loring." I held out the folder. "Mrs. Harris asked me to bring this."

He glanced up from his desk. Silver streaked his hair, but his eyes still looked clear and sharp. "Ah, thank you, Desiree. Give me a moment to look it over."

The room smelled faintly of coffee and leather. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls behind him, each crammed with neatly arranged volumes. To his side was a wide window overlooking the manicured gardens below.

As he flipped through the file, my gaze wandered and landed on the students seated on the plush leather couches, likely summoned for disciplinary reasons.

Four boys lounged on a long couch along the wall, oozing smug confidence, as if they could talk their way out of whatever trouble they probably had caused.

A girl sat alone on a nearby single couch, twisting her fingers in her lap. Her black hair veiled most of her face, but the way she kept biting her lip gave away how tense she was.

But it wasn't them that made my breath catch.

Wallace sat at the far end of the other couch with that same frustrating mix of ease and edge. His back was slouched, one leg stretched out, sipping from a water bottle like he couldn't care less. In the soft afternoon light, he looked... different.

Sitting beside him, I assumed, was Audrey.

She looked smaller than I expected. Shoulders hunched, hands tucked between her knees. Her short auburn hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, grounding her in a way that felt real and unfiltered. Something most girls I knew had been taught to cover up.

No wonder they were talking about her. She didn't try to blend in.

And at Fictus, being different was both a blessing and a curse.

Her eyes lifted and met mine. Then she offered a timid, respectful smile.

She didn't look like the scene-stealer the gossip painted her to be.

I gave her a polite nod, the same way I always do with everyone.

My eyes flicked back to Wallace just in time to see him take another long gulp from his bottle. The movement of his throat was annoyingly distracting.

Why hasn't he said anything? The whole school's talking, and not once has he tried to shut it down. Was it really him who leaked it?

It had only been a week since that suffocating dinner where we were first introduced, yet somehow, he felt even more like a stranger now.

The second his gaze snapped to mine, everything inside me jolted.

He capped the bottle, but didn't look away. As if he was waiting for me to flinch first.

My face heated, and I broke eye contact, pretending to study the Newton's cradle on the principal's desk. The soft click of the metal spheres didn't help.

Finally, Principal Loring said, "Thank you, Desiree. Let Mrs. Harris know I'll sign off on these by tomorrow."

I gave a polite smile. "Of course, Principal Loring."

As I stepped back, I caught Wallace still watching me. Now with his arms folded, leaning against the armrest, one brow slightly raised. Then his gaze dropped to my legs before flicking back to my face, quick but deliberate.

It lasted only a second, but it hit like a spark.

I turned on my heel and walked out. The door clicked shut behind me, the corridor swallowing me in a hush too quiet for comfort. Every step away from that office felt heavier than it should have.

Why was he staring like that? Was there something on my legs?

My fingers found the hem of my skirt, gripping it tight until my knuckles turned white.

Normally, that kind of thing annoyed the hell out of me. I'm 5'7", so yeah people stare at my legs. Girls, with either compliments or jealousy. Boys, with not-so-subtle lust in their eyes. But him?

Nothing. There was no lust in his stare. No flattery, no curiosity, not even the usual judgment people tossed my way. Just... something unreadable. And for some reason, that bothered me more than it should.

I can read anyone like a script. So why does he come out blank?

I stopped halfway down the corridor, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Okay. New angle. If I couldn't predict him, I'd control everything around him.

Audrey, for starters. That girl wasn't just some background noise anymore. She was the perfect variable.

Let the rumors grow. Let the bad boy burn the bridge. All I had to do was smile... and light the match.

By next week, the game would be mine.

𓇢𓆸

[Edited: 2,533 words]

ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅʏꜱʜʜʜ