The sky was too blue for the kind of morning Jade was having.
She stood in a line that had barely moved in fifteen minutes, her phone buzzing uselessly in her pocket. The campus registration hall smelled like dust, coffee, and frustration. Students filled every inch of space—some loud, some lost, and others like her: quiet, tense, trying not to scream.
Jade rubbed at the back of her neck and glanced at the girl behind the desk. She looked one blink away from a breakdown.
"Name?"
"Jadesola Kosoko."
The clerk's fingers paused mid-type. Her eyes flicked up. Recognition flashed. Jade knew that look. She was her father's daughter, after all. And his name still opened too many doors.
The woman cleared her throat. "Any relation to John Kosoko?"
Jade smiled tightly. "He was my father."
A beat of silence. The keyboard clacked again, faster this time.
"You've got big shoes to fill."
Jade didn't answer. Didn't smile. She'd heard that line a thousand times. No one ever asked if she wanted to wear those shoes. They just expected her to run in them.
---
By the time she made it to her first class, her nerves were humming with exhaustion. Her name was on the board. A seating chart. Assigned seats. What kind of hell was this?
She found her seat near the front and sat, smoothing her jeans. The room buzzed with voices until a sharp click of heels silenced it all. The professor walked in like he owned the floor—and maybe he did.
"Let's begin," he said. No introduction. No warmth.
Names were called. Attendance taken. Then the questions began.
"Who can explain the economic implications of postwar treaties on modern Europe?"
The silence in the room was deafening. Jade raised her hand.
And nailed the answer.
The professor's eyes lingered on her. "You're Kosoko's daughter."
Not a question. A statement.
She nodded.
He smiled. "Good. We need minds like yours."
Jade barely had time to breathe before the next question came.
And the next.
She answered most with calm precision. But the last one—something obscure about Yugoslavia—tripped her up. She hesitated.
A girl in the back—model-tall, red curls, eyes like venom—answered before her.
The professor nodded. "Correct."
The girl turned slightly, enough for Jade to see her smirk.
"Guess she doesn't know everything after all," she muttered under her breath.
Jade stiffened.
So this was Cynthia.
After class, she barely made it to the hallway before Cynthia blocked her path with an entourage of equally intimidating girls.
"They say you're smart," Cynthia said, voice syrupy. "But showing off doesn't make you a genius."
Jade met her eyes and spoke evenly. "This isn't high school. I don't have the time—or the energy—to entertain bullies."
Cynthia's smile cracked. "We'll see."
---
Jade found the campus café with a headache and a tight chest. She dropped into a seat by the window, pulled out her phone, and texted Aisha.
> Jade: I'm here. Come quick before I pass out.
She snapped a selfie—eyes tired but still smirking—and sent it.
Two minutes later, her phone buzzed again. New number.
She expected a spam text. A promo. Anything but this.
It was a photo.
Of her.
Sitting in the café.
Taken from outside the window. The angle was unmistakable. She blinked. The text below the image read:
> Watch your back.
Her heart stuttered.
She looked up, scanning the street outside. People walked past—students, vendors, a cyclist—but no one suspicious. No one looking at her.
She was suddenly too aware of how vulnerable she was. Alone. Unfamiliar terrain.
The door to the café opened and she flinched.
"You good?" Aisha.
Jade laughed nervously, slipping her phone into her pocket. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
Aisha sat across from her, raising a brow. "Thinking hard enough to flinch like that? You sure you're okay?"
Jade forced a smile. "Just tired. Professor almost gave me a heart attack today."
Aisha rolled her eyes. "Try having three like that back-to-back. You'll develop trauma."
Jade chuckled, tension easing a little.
"Let's get chai," Aisha said. "You've never had proper karak until you've had it here."
Jade nodded, pretending to scan the menu while her thoughts still buzzed.
That message. That picture.
What did it mean?
Who sent it?
Why now?
Before she could spiral, the café door opened again.
And in walked Brian Payne.
Tall. Dark-haired. Broad shoulders wrapped in a black hoodie. Eyes like winter storms.
His gaze brushed past her like she didn't exist. But something about his presence made her entire body coil tight.
She didn't breathe until he was several feet away.
"I've lost my appetite," Jade said quietly.
Aisha followed her gaze, scoffed, and grabbed her bag. "Let's bounce. I know a better spot anyway."
They walked out side-by-side.
And somewhere behind her, Jade could still feel eyes watching.
Back in the dorm, the air felt too still. The hum of Aisha's soft snoring from the top bunk didn't ease Jade's nerves. Her phone lay on her chest, the screen dark. That message... that damn picture. It played over and over in her mind like a looped nightmare.
Jade sat up in bed, heart hammering, fingers cold. Enough was enough.
She picked up her phone and typed.
Jade: Who are you?
What do you want?
She stared at the message thread—her text sitting there, blue and anxious.
Then the typing bubble appeared.
Her pulse jumped.
Unknown: You'll find out soon enough.
Her stomach dropped.
Jade gritted her teeth. Her thumbs hovered over the screen. Should she tell Aisha? Report it? Laugh it off?
No.
There was only one name in her mind.
Brian Payne.
It had to be him. It felt like him. The smug, twisted little prince of trouble. Always pulling strings, always playing mind games. Was this how he was planning to make her life hell? Acting like some anonymous coward?
Her feet hit the floor before she could think twice. She threw on a hoodie, tied her braids up into a quick bun, and left the dorm.
The night was cool and crisp, the campus alive with voices and laughter from open dorm windows. She walked aimlessly, trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.
That's when she saw him.
Leaning against the low brick wall by the arts building. Smirking. His hoodie pushed back, black hair falling just right. Two girls—clearly freshmen—stood in front of him giggling like idiots. He said something that made one of them swat his arm playfully.
Of course. Brian Payne: menace, flirt, manipulator.
Jade felt heat rise in her chest. Annoyance. Jealousy. Confusion.
She marched toward him before she could stop herself.
"Hey, asshole."
The girls looked startled. Brian looked amused.
Jade pulled her phone from her pocket, opened the message, and shoved the screen in his face. "What the hell is this? You think this is funny? You think stalking me and sending creepy messages is some kind of game?"
Brian's brows lifted slightly, and then the corner of his mouth quirked. "You flatter me, Kosoko. But if I was going to stalk you, I wouldn't be so obvious."
"Don't play dumb," she snapped. "You're obsessed with ruining my life—what's one more level of psycho to add to your list?"
The girls had gone quiet. One of them looked between them like she was watching a live episode of a telenovela.
Brian tilted his head. "You always this dramatic or is it just when you're around me?"
"You're such a dick."
He smiled wider. "You wound me."
Jade's fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to scream, to slap the smug look off his stupid pretty face. Instead, she let her anger lead.
"You know what? Screw you, Payne. If this is a warning, bring it. I don't scare easy."
"Clearly not," he said, laughing softly. "But you probably should."
She turned sharply and stormed off before she said something she couldn't take back.
Brian watched her go, eyes narrowed, the smile sliding from his face.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
A beat. Then a voice on the other
end picked up.
Brian didn't bother with pleasantries. His voice was low, careful.
"I need help with something."