Astrid always sat in the front rows.Not out of habit, but by choice.
The first seat. The spot where you didn't have to turn your head to see the teacher, from which answers came out cleanly and confidence seemed natural. That's where someone who knew their worth would sit.
And Astrid knew it.
She was good. She was smart. She was beautiful—enough to have learned early on a basic rule: keep your distance. Especially from men with money. From those who confused interest with entitlement.
From the ultra-rich.
Of course, Adrián Valmont fell into that category.
He said he was in love with her.Astrid had never fully believed it.
The Roches weren't on the same level as the Valmonts. Never had been. Not really. The wealthiest and most powerful family in the city didn't fall for girls like her; they displayed them. Turned them into elegant trophies, pleasant distractions. Something nice to show… and replace.
That was what Adrián must have seen when he looked at her.
An expensive toy.Nothing more.
And yet… he had been polite. Considerate. Even careful. Enough to confuse anyone. But Astrid didn't fool herself. She knew her place. She always had.
That was why she wanted to prove her worth.
Not for him.For herself.
She wanted to stand out without favors, without shortcuts, without owing anyone anything. To build something of her own. Something that couldn't be credited to smiles or someone else's last name.
That had been the plan.
But now…
Astrid pressed the pen between her fingers, staring at the page without really seeing it.
She couldn't even start.
The project she had envisioned for months—clear, structured, achievable—had stopped before the first step. Not for lack of ideas. Not for fear.
Because of limits.
And that hurt the most.
Adrián, on the other hand…
Since entering university, he already had several companies running in his name. Real ones. With employees, contracts, income. All under his control—or so it seemed from the outside.
Maybe it was his last name.Maybe his wealth.
Probably both.
Some people are destined to advance even before trying.
And the most irritating thing was that he didn't even seem to try. In class, he wasn't always at the top. Sometimes he was absent. Sometimes he seemed… elsewhere. As if it were all just a minor formality.
And yet, the world opened up to him without resistance.
Astrid swallowed.
It wasn't envy.Or at least, she didn't want to call it that.
It was something rougher. More uncomfortable.
Injustice.
Because she had done everything right. Responsible. Methodical. Careful. She had avoided depending on anyone. Followed every unspoken rule they taught her.
And still, she was sitting there, unable to move forward.
While Adrián Valmont, without even trying, was already several steps ahead.
Astrid lifted her gaze to the front of the classroom, forcing herself to focus. She straightened her back. Reclaimed the confident expression she always wore.
No one was supposed to notice.
When class ended, Oliver appeared.
Astrid noticed him even before he reached her side. Always attentive. Always willing. Too much so.
"Want me to help with your bag?" he asked, extending his hand before she had even stood up.
Astrid smiled out of habit but didn't hand anything over.
Oliver was the second-best student in the class. A scholarship kid. Sponsored by his good grades. The kind of boy teachers loved to use as an example. Smart, diligent… and predictable.
It was also obvious what he was after.
She wasn't naive.
If she wasn't "up to par" with Adrián Valmont, that boy wasn't up to par with her either. Not out of cruelty, but reality. Astrid had learned to measure social distances with surgical precision.
Oliver thought he had a chance.
That, by itself, wouldn't have bothered her so much.
What really irritated her was something else.
Adrián.
Before, whenever some boy got too close, he would intervene. No scenes. No unnecessary words. One look was enough. Sometimes a short, polite phrase, impossible to argue with.
He put them in their place.
Not because she asked him to.Simply… because he was there.
But not now.
Now Adrián passed by her as if she didn't exist. As if he didn't see her. As if Oliver were part of the classroom furniture and she… just another student.
That indifference stirred something inside her.
"No need," she said finally, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Thanks."
Oliver withdrew his hand, a little uncomfortable, but persisted.
"I thought maybe we could review the project sometime. You always have things so clear."
Astrid nodded automatically.
"I'll see."
As they walked toward the exit, her gaze unintentionally drifted to the back of the hall.
Adrián was there.
Surrounded by his people. Relaxed. Talking about something that didn't seem related to class, exams, or anything she cared about.
Not once did he look her way.
Astrid pressed her lips together.
She didn't understand why it bothered her so much.
Earlier, she had told herself his interest didn't matter. That this supposed love was exaggerated, probably false. A bored heir's fantasy.
So why did she feel that pressure in her chest?
For a brief, absurd moment, she had the urge to go to him. To stand in front of Adrián Valmont and demand an explanation.
Ridiculous.
She had no right to demand anything. Never had.
Astrid paused for a second before leaving the classroom, as if hoping—without admitting it—that Adrián would look up at the last moment.
He didn't.
The gesture was small. Almost imperceptible. But something shifted inside her, out of place.
It wasn't pride.It wasn't jealousy.
It was the uncomfortable feeling of having lost something she never allowed herself to desire.
Astrid took a deep breath and kept walking, without looking back.
But for the first time, she wasn't sure she was moving in the right direction.
It was early in the morning. The fresh breeze drifted through the open windows as the university's private buses began lining up in the parking lot. The upperclassmen were preparing for a trip out of the city: a day of practice, networking, and views that didn't need a tour guide.
Astrid adjusted her backpack over one shoulder, mentally reviewing the notes she would bring. Everything was calculated: route, timing, materials. Nothing could be left to chance—least of all her.
As she walked toward the bus, she noticed her classmates chatting and laughing, carefree, some carrying the light arrogance that wealth conferred. She barely smiled, distant. This trip wasn't just a day away from the classroom; it was another reminder of her place, of what she could build on her own… and of how far she still was from Adrián Valmont.
The trip outside the city had started almost idyllic.
Upperclassmen. Private facilities. Comfortable transport. Everything designed for students who had never had to wonder if they'd make it home at the end of the day.
Astrid was standing with other classmates when she saw them.
Men who didn't belong there. Ordinary clothing. Too attentive. Too confident.
The first shout wasn't necessary.
The weapons were enough.
"Everyone still," one of them ordered. "This is a kidnapping."
The world shrank.
Some students cried. Others froze. No one tried to run. They were rich kids, untrained for real chaos.
Astrid felt like she couldn't breathe when one of the men started pointing.
"You. You. And you."
They chose quickly. Appearance. Posture. Clothes. Names that carried value.
When the man's gaze landed on her, Astrid knew.
She was the kind of beauty that made headlines.
"Come," he ordered, grabbing her by the arm.
Astrid stepped back instinctively.
"Let her go!"
Oliver.
His voice sounded firm. Too firm for someone in panic.
"Stay still," one of the kidnappers warned, aiming steadily. "One wrong move, and we won't hesitate."
Oliver stopped, raising his hands slightly, but his eyes remained alert. Every step, every gesture of the kidnappers, he analyzed like a chessboard.
Astrid could barely breathe. She was terrified, but also fascinated by the calm Oliver maintained while danger surrounded them.
The men decided who they would take: Astrid and a few others. There was no intent to kill, but the message was clear: resist, and they wouldn't hesitate to use the necessary force.
"We don't want to kill," one of them said, seeing the magnitude of Oliver's intervention. "We only want those we already selected."
With no possibility to fight or negotiate, the kidnappers left with the students they had taken. Oliver stayed safe beside Astrid, exhausted but unscathed. His clothes were worn, his hands full of small cuts and bruises, but they hadn't been touched by the kidnappers who knew whom they truly feared.
Astrid took a deep breath, looking first at Oliver, then at Adrián. One had risked everything for her; the other…
Oliver couldn't face them head-on. His only option was to buy time, protect Astrid as best he could, and hope someone else intervened.
And then Adrián appeared.
He stood still, observing. None of the kidnappers approached him; it was clear that touching him would invite an immeasurable disaster. His family, his power… everything spoke for him.
Astrid, desperate, looked at him pleadingly. With a single gesture.
After they left, Adrián took out his phone and made a call.
Oliver approached Adrián. "Why didn't you defend her? Coward," he said, before rushing to the rescue after criticizing him.
The bus started, carrying the hostages—including Astrid—away. Oliver followed at a distance, through the trees and shadows, making sure not to be seen. Every step was calculated: his goal wasn't to confront armed men, but to neutralize them one by one in silence.
Minutes after the kidnapping, the area was filled with vehicles and armed men: private security, special forces, absolute backup. The kidnappers understood immediately that any attempt at resistance would be useless.
The bus moved along secondary roads for nearly an hour.
Oliver followed from a distance, using the darkness and the terrain. He didn't try to get too close. He knew what the weapons meant. He knew that one mistake could cost someone their life.
When the vehicle stopped, it was already nightfall.
An old industrial complex, partially abandoned. Minimal lighting. Two men watching outside, others inside. Nothing improvised.
Oliver moved carefully.
He waited.
The first one fell silently. A precise strike to the trachea, controlled, followed by a hold that left him unconscious. The second barely had time to turn before Oliver knocked him to the ground.
Sweat. Held breath.
It had worked.
But that was all.
Inside, there were more men. Weapons. Hostages grouped together. Oliver realized clearly: he couldn't go any further. One wrong move, and someone would be shot.
He stayed still, hidden in the shadows.
Then the world changed.
The roar came first.
A military helicopter appeared over the complex, breaking the darkness with a brutal beam of light that illuminated the entire area as if it were daytime.
"Get down!" someone shouted.
It wasn't a threat.It was a final order.
Before the kidnappers could react, the perimeter was already sealed.
Armored vehicles emerged from side roads. Troops descended with mathematical precision. No shouting. No unnecessary gunfire. Only coordinated movement.
"Alpha Team, hostages located.""Bravo Team, entries secured.""Visual contact confirmed."
The special forces moved in.
There was no fight.
The kidnappers were subdued in seconds. Arms twisted, weapons removed, bodies on the ground. All clean. All fast.
The hostages were evacuated immediately. Astrid among them, wrapped in a thermal blanket, escorted by two soldiers who didn't even look her in the eyes: their job was to cover her, not comfort her.
Oliver emerged from his hiding spot once everything was over.
He looked around.
Bodies immobilized. Hostages safe. Soldiers checking every corner as if the place had always belonged to them.
He hadn't rescued anyone.
He had taken down two men… who didn't matter.
An officer approached, looking him up and down: worn clothes, bloodied knuckles, labored breathing.
"Civilian?" he asked.
Oliver nodded.
"Stay clear of the perimeter."
That was all.
The hostages were carefully removed, and Astrid was among them, wrapped in blankets, escorted by soldiers who didn't even look at her: no one needed her gratitude, no one owed her anything.
And then they understood.
The special forces hadn't responded by chance, nor by the intervention of some makeshift hero.Someone with weight, influence, and enough resources had ensured they arrived within minutes. That they didn't wait hours. That the operation was flawless.
The Valmonts.