The Heir's Ruthless Obsession

en h

blue

had been crafted by angels

ortal. My throat dried instantly, the words I had been practicing dying in my mouth. I had just come from a back-alley

ed, my brain stru

atline. It wasn't the mocking smirk of the bullies or

. His voice was melodic, like

ckles turned white. "The map... and the bullies... and the

ted a hand, waving away my apologies. "It's fine. You're new. St. Aurelia

imes...a rhythmic, secret-sounding knock. From inside, a small side entrance groaned open, a

h me," the

y, replaced by a respectful, almost submissive

ind

t a single sentence c

with another smile. "I'll show you where to sit. If

stepping into the cool, incen

ined-glass windows, catching the dust in the air and turning it into tiny floating rainbows. Rows of polished wooden pews gleamed und

the center, moving wit

nded attention like a tyrant, but because there was something in

warmth settle around me. There was a quiet confidence about him, a kind of amused pat

ling of a bell. Director Alexandre Rousseau st

ugh the rafters. "This academy is a place of excellence, creativity, and discipline. We nurture talent, w

he resemblance struck me like a physical blow. The jawline, the poise...

to acknowledge students who have distinguished themselves

anged. It didn't just

the hair on my arms stand up. His dark uniform was immaculate, but he wore it like armor. Hi

. Dmitri didn't look at the Director. He didn't look at the crowd.

lien shifted, his expression tur

"your results in the practical examinations have been exceptional. You h

a tribute he already knew he deserved. When he turned to leave the stage, his eyes flickered t

lled, his voice warming

d by a ripple of excitement. Julien rose smoothly. Each step was me

ional piano competition," the Director said w

the podium and nodded politely. "Thank you, sir," he said softly.

was a gentle acknowledgment in his eyes, a small smile th

disperse. I tried to blend into the crowd, but Julien wa

belle, righ

lutching my bag like a

the Beaumont gala," he teased, a trace of amusement in his tone.

, feeling my cheeks heat u

dropping. "And I saw you coming from the back of the South W

p. "Is it t

y hair for a second as he plucked a stray bit of debris away. My heart did a somersau

aid, still daze

r are you in?

t behind... I'm in my

llow. "I'm in the third year. If you ever get lost, which you wi

to regain my composure. "The Director

tter when accompanied by a violin. I can't wait to have you join us at the

nto the walls. We passed portraits of alumni whose eyes seemed to jud

he French classroom. He

sabelle? Don't let the ghosts of this place scar

nk you,

h it, a lingering chill. I looked down the hallway and saw a flash of black hair, Dmitri. He was standing

onsieur Leclerc, a man with a neatly trimmed beard, welcomed us. When it

y voice steadying as I spoke. "Je viens de l'orph

sitting in the back row. She whispered something to the girl next to her, a sneer twi

The initial awe was giving way to a weary ex

a grand hall of marble and glass, filled with the clatter of silver again

and spotte

roup of students. He looked like the sun. But then, my gaze drifte

He was staring directly at me, his grey ey

e at St. Aurelia wasn't just about music anymore. It was a choice between

d the "angel" might have opened the door, b