"Protecting her was supposed to be my mission… not my downfall."
Jemil Carter held the fake student ID in his hand like it was a live grenade. Transfer student. That was the role he'd been assigned to play—blend in, watch over Justina Moretti, the billionaire heiress with a reputation as fiery as her sharp green eyes, and keep her alive. All while pretending to be a sixteen-year-old high schooler again.
He stared at the glossy photo on the ID: a younger version of himself with a neat haircut and a slightly awkward smile. The last time he'd worn a school uniform was a decade ago. Now, dressed in the crisp blazer and tie that marked Moretti Academy's elite students, Jemil felt like a fish flopping on dry land.
"Deep breath, Carter," he muttered, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the school's towering glass entrance. "You can do this."
Inside the sprawling halls of Moretti Academy, the scent of polished marble and expensive cologne mingled with the murmur of students chatting and lockers slamming. The elite school was a playground for the country's wealthiest families—and a powder keg of secrets and rivalries Jemil wasn't here to enjoy.
His handler's last words echoed in his mind: "Don't blow your cover. No matter what."
Jemil's plan was simple—blend in seamlessly, stay close to Justina, and watch for threats. But there was nothing simple about this girl.
Justina Moretti didn't walk down the halls. She owned them. Her short blond hair was tousled just enough to look effortlessly rebellious, framing a face that carried both sharp intelligence and a dangerous kind of beauty. Her uniform skirt rode just high enough to break every dress code rule, and her leather boots clicked defiantly against the floor.
When their eyes met for the first time, Jemil felt the air shift. She didn't smile. Instead, Justina narrowed her eyes, lips curling into a smirk that promised trouble.
"New kid," she said coolly, stepping closer. "You lost or just too scared to talk?"
"Jemil," he said, trying to sound casual. "Transfer student."
She raised an eyebrow. "Hmph. Welcome to hell, Jemil."
That was Justina—a walking storm.
Over the next few days, Jemil quickly learned the unspoken rules of Moretti Academy. This was no ordinary high school; it was a battlefield disguised in designer uniforms and designer backpacks. Cliques formed like kingdoms, alliances were fragile, and Justina was a queen who ruled with fire and a razor-sharp tongue.
Jemil's mission was to protect her from shadowy threats no one else seemed to notice—the kind that whispered through the halls after hours, lurking in the corners of her extravagant mansion, and now, as Jemil discovered, following them to school.
At lunch, Jemil found himself navigating the cafeteria maze, where groups of students eyed him like a suspicious new species. He avoided eye contact, carrying his tray awkwardly while listening to hushed rumors.
"She's crazy but crazy rich."
"Did you see her last party? Insane."
"Who's that guy? New blood?"
Jemil caught a few glances from the girls, some shy, some bold, all interested. His cover story was working—too well. He was definitely not the invisible shadow he'd hoped to be.
Justina, meanwhile, acted like she enjoyed watching Jemil squirm.
"You're too stiff," she teased one afternoon as he tried to blend into a crowded hallway. "Relax. You're not on a battlefield. Well… not exactly."
Jemil smirked despite himself. "Easy for you to say."
Their banter was sharp but strangely comforting. She was the only one who treated him like a real person, not just a bodyguard or a mission.
But danger wasn't far away.
One late afternoon, Jemil walked Justina to her last class when a group of men in dark suits suddenly blocked their path. Their faces were cold and unreadable.
"Time's up," one growled, stepping forward.
Jemil's training took over instantly. He positioned himself between Justina and the threat, his senses on high alert.
Justina cracked her knuckles, a dangerous smile playing on her lips. "You boys really don't know who you're messing with."
Chaos erupted.
Fists flew, desks toppled, and the school hallway turned into a battlefield. Jemil fought with precision, every move calculated to protect Justina and keep their cover intact. Justina was no damsel in distress; she was fierce, throwing punches and kicks with surprising skill.
The fight ended as quickly as it began. The suited men retreated, leaving a tense silence in their wake.
Justina grinned. "Not bad, newbie."
Jemil exhaled, muscles aching but adrenaline still racing. "You're full of surprises."
Later, in the quiet sanctuary of the school library, Justina leaned in, voice low and teasing. "I don't need a bodyguard babysitting me."
"Maybe," Jemil said, "but you're stuck with me anyway."
Her laugh was soft, almost a challenge. "We'll see about that."
Jemil knew then this mission would test everything—his skills, his patience, and his heart. Because in a world where money bought power and secrets hid in every shadow, the real danger wasn't just from outside forces—it was the chaos and unexpected feelings brewing inside Moretti Academy.
END OF CHAPTER
CTA
Will Jemil keep his cover and protect Justina from the threats closing in? Or will the pressure of high school drama and unexpected feelings be his undoing?
Don't miss the next thrilling chapter of Bodyguard for the Billionaire Heiress—where danger, desire, and drama collide!
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