David's POV
I hated Mondays.
Not because they were the start of a new school week, but because they reminded me how pointless it all felt. I didn't need Beaufort Academy's populated curriculum or their Nonsense polishes rules. I was here because my father said I had to be. Said no one took a CEO seriously if he didn't at least finish school with "diplomas and discipline."
Whatever.
I already knew how to run a business. I'd been shadowing boardrooms since I was twelve, absorbing numbers and deals like second nature. I could read a balance sheet better than I could read half the books they assigned in English class.
Still, here I was, walking through the polished halls of Beaufort Academy with my bag slung over one shoulder and an irritated scowl already forming. I didn't smile. Ever. I didn't need to. People got out of my way regardless.
"Look who's already in a mood," Martins smirked, falling into step beside me. Loud, reckless, always the comic relief.
Zack followed a second later quiet, sharp-eyed, and the kind of guy who only spoke when it mattered. Our trio wasn't official, but no one questioned it. We ran things without saying much. The rules bent for us. The students bowed to us. The teachers? They tolerated us because our last names paid for their jobs.
Same routine. Same faces. Same boring energy.
Until it wasn't.
We walked into first-period Business Strategy, and I froze.
Someone was sitting in my seat. How dare she!!!!
It didn't even register at first. I was used to people knowing better. No one touched my desk. No one dared. It wasn't assigned, but everyone knew that spot by the window, second row from the front, was mine.
But there she was.
She sat there like she didn't care. Her back straight. Her hands flipping through the school handbook like it was the most important document in the world. Her hair was braided back neatly, not a strand out of place. Her uniform… off. Just slightly. The skirt was a little bit longer but her shoes weren't Beaufort issue but it was worn out and Her shirt was a little too loose, like someone had ironed it too hard.
She didn't belong here.
And the room knew it too. You could feel it the way the whispers dipped, the way the laughter faded. People were watching. Waiting.
I stepped forward and dropped my bag onto the desk next to her with a thud.
"You're in my seat."
She looked up.
And damn if she didn't have the guts to meet my eyes without flinching.
"No assigned names," she said lightly, flipping to the next page. "I checked."
Martin's laugh broke the silence behind me. "She checked," he repeated with mock delight.
Zack gave a single shake of his head. Not amused. Not shocked either.
I stared at her harder. "Everyone knows that's my seat."
She closed the handbook. Slowly. Carefully. "Well, I didn't know. I'm new. And I'm not moving for anyone. Who in the world do you think you are"
The whole class gasped.
There was no apology in her voice. No shame either. Just facts.
I leaned closer. "You are a new girl and if you want peace just move You've got five seconds to move."
She blinked. Her demeanor changed. I didn't give care. She looked Looked at the clock. Then looked back at me.
"I'll take three."
And just like that, she stood up. " Don't think I stood up because I'm afraid of what you are going to do. Just to lazy for all this drama". She picked up her bag, and walked to the back row. No drama. No fuss. No fear.
I should've felt victorious, but fury burnt within me.
Instead, I sat down and couldn't stop watching her.
She didn't try to blend in. Didn't whisper to the girls next to her or fix her posture like most of them did when they felt the heat of my gaze. She just… opened her notebook. Clicked her pen. Focused.
"What was that?" Martins asked, sliding into his seat beside me, clearly entertained.
"New girl," Zack answered before I could. "Didn't recognize David Smith."
"She's gonna regret that," Martine added with a grin.
But I didn't speak.
I didn't even know why I was annoyed. Was it the fact that she didn't recognize me? That she didn't care? Or that her voice wasn't shaky like the others? Or about her boldness??
Whatever it was, it bothered me.
When class started, the teacher asked her to introduce herself.
She stood.
"My name is Precious Pearl," she said. "I'm on scholarship. I'm excited to be here."
Scholarship.
That explained the shoes. The ironed shirt. The way she carried her bag like she couldn't afford to let it get damaged.
But what it didn't explain was the way she held her chin high, even when a few students chuckled. Even when the whispers started up again.
She didn't shrink. She didn't falter.
And I hated that more than anything. She was bold.
Because people like her didn't walk into our world like they belonged. They stayed invisible. They kept their heads down.
But Precious Pearl didn't.
And now… I couldn't stop thinking about her.. Couldn't stop thinking of ways to make her pay
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