As the days dwindled down before the final exam, the atmosphere in the classroom grew tense. Each student pressed to absorb the vast amount of knowledge into their heads. Blair, always the epitome of confidence and luxury, had a ritual of arriving early to class, ensuring she had ample time to… No, not to prepare—she made sure everything settled before leaving the house—but to find someone to listen to her babbles.
Spencer’s irritation with Blair intensified as she effortlessly found an audience for her incessant chatter. Each day, she entered the room, scanning for her next target—a student who was too polite, too eager to please, or too distracted by her family’s wealth to refuse her. It was as if she possessed a radar for vulnerability, and once she identified her target, she would swoop in with her irresistible charm, weaving tales about her grandfather’s businesses, her own brilliance, or the love of her family.
What annoyed Spencer the most was that Blair didn’t have to work for attention; it came to her effortlessly. Her classmates didn’t listen out of genuine interest, but for the advantages they believed they could gain from her. Blair was aware of this and didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she relished it. She took pride in the influence she wielded over who listened to her and how her audience fawned over the wealth of the Wilson Group.
To Spencer, Blair’s dominance in the classroom felt suffocating. However, it was precisely this attitude that proved useful. Every word she spoke and every anecdote she shared became a valuable source of information for Spencer. As she wove her narratives of privilege and family drama, he quietly absorbed every detail to report back to Arden Dalton.
He leaned back in his seat, adjusting his position to nap on his desk while trying to block out the noise. However, he couldn’t ignore the exaggerated gasp from the student next to him. With a slight peek, Spencer saw Blair holding her emerald diamond bracelet high in the air, the stones catching the light and gleaming as if they had a life of their own.
“Ms. Whyte,” Blair’s voice pierced through the chatter, “I’ll wager this piece of jewelry right here—your boyfriend is a cheater.”
Anne’s expression tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes before she quickly masked it. She clenched her fists beneath the desk, determined to maintain her composure. Offending Blair, the heir to the Wilson Group, was the last thing she could afford to do.
Despite the silence, their eyes conveyed pity for Anne, silently judging Blair’s insensitive remark. However, no one dared to speak up.
Anne, compelled to stand her ground, endured the humiliation in silence. “No, really. My boyfriend isn’t like that. He’s just struggling, but he would never cheat on me. I understand his situation—studying architecture at this university is expensive. He’s doing everything he can to make ends meet.” Her voice quivered.
Spencer still his head on the desk as inaudible murmurs, just loud enough to escape Blair’s ears, filled the room.
“God, she’s unbearable,” one voice hissed from a row behind him. “How can she say that to Anne in front of everyone? It’s just cruel.”
“Is all the Wilson family this arrogant?” another voice muttered, barely above a whisper. “She always thinks she can make people feel small just for fun.”
His gaze flickered to the surrounding students. Their faces spoke volumes. Sympathy for Anne and the scorn for Blair. The class was mostly silent, yet the undercurrent of judgment was palpable.
The following morning after their final exam, the atmosphere darkened once more when Anne’s boyfriend, a third-year architecture student, had his social media account hacked. Photos posted on the campus forum, him on a rendezvous with an intern teacher and several older women, accompanied by shocking revelations. The caption exposed him, threatening these women for money.
Anne’s face was pale, and her eyes were red from the shock of the morning’s campus forum scandal. While Janica and Raina stood on one side of her, their voices soft as they tried to comfort her with reassuring words and kind gestures, Blair approached Anne, her heels clicking sharply on the floor.
“Ms. Whyte,” she spoke loudly and clearly, cutting through Anne’s sobs. She placed the bracelet in her palm, the weight settling on her trembling hands. “This piece is one of a kind, crafted by the finest jeweler in our country. Just like this bracelet, you deserve something rare and exceptional—something that reflects your true worth.”
Anne gazed up at Blair, astonished, as the bracelet’s sparkling stones glimmered in her eyes. She was rendered speechless, overwhelmed by the gesture, too shocked by her words.
“Trash belongs in the bin,” she added dismissively, accompanied by a comforting yet proud smile. “Move on, Whyte. You deserve the best.”
Their faces painted with awe and disbelief. To some, her gesture appeared as if the emerald bracelet exuded calculated dominance, serving as a reminder of her unparalleled status.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Spencer, observing quietly with a faint smirk, noted the shifting opinions—admiration, resentment, and everything in between. Blair’s words had done their work; love her or hate her. She was untouchable. Anne, clutching the bracelet, felt its weight as both a comfort and crushing.
‘What a show,’ he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on Anne’s bruised on her neck covered with make-up.
As Blair headed toward the washroom, she barely noticed Spencer stepping into the doorway ahead of her. Before she could pass, he leaned forward, his broad, towering frame blocking her path, his head tilted just enough to catch her gaze.
“Do you know the difference between jewelry and people?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a quiet intensity. The calmness in his tone was unnerving, like the stillness before a storm.
She raised an eyebrow, her lips parting to respond, but Spencer’s next words cut through the space between them.
“In jewels, you can easily identify which is fake.” he pulled back slightly before he added, “And just so you know, emerald could shatter with too much heat.” His piercing gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he stepped away, leaving her with a silence that felt louder than any retort she could muster.
The typically sharp, quick-witted Blair Wilson left dumbfounded to untangle his words.
…
After the exhausting final exams, the students decided a tour around the campus to enjoy the breathtaking landscape before they left for semester break. The university grounds, known for their beauty, boasted expansive gardens, graceful walkways, and a harmonious sound of decorative magnificent fountains.
The highlight of the tour was the stunning pond, it’s adorned with vibrant lilies in full bloom. Their delicate petals glistened under the warm sun, reflecting a soft, almost ethereal glow. The sweet scent of the flowers mingled with the crisp air, creating a peaceful atmosphere, until…
A loud splash broke the joyful day, followed by a frantic shout. “Stay away from me!” a voice screamed before jumping on the pond.
As the student flailed in the pond, a professor shouted, “Stay back! He contaminated the water with an unknown virus!” Panic spread through the crowd, everyone frozen in fear.
Blair, however, didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the warning, she quickly removed her shoes and ran to the pond’s edge. Without a second thought, she dove into the water, the cold shock hitting her, but her focus was solely on the student. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the shore, dragging his limp body behind her.
Blair, while dragging the student out of the water, noticed he wasn’t breathing. The surrounding crowd murmured in fear, some backing away, whispering rumors about the student—specifically, the whispers of his supposed HIV status.
One student, a girl from a nearby group, shouted, “You can’t! He’s rumored to have HIV! You could catch it!”
Yet her focus unwavered. She knelt beside the student, her hands shaking slightly as she positioned his head back to open his airway. “F*** that rumors,” she muttered as she quickly pressed her lips to his, performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Minutes passed, but the student showed no signs of responding. Just as she prepared to continue, Spencer appeared. And without a warning, he grabbed her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly off the ground, pulling her away.
“Let go of me!” She shouted, struggling to break free.
Spencer’s grip tightened as he stared down at her, his face a mask of rage. “This reckless act of heroism is beyond foolish, Ms. Wilson. Do you think your family’s status could save you from a virus contaminating that pond?”
Blair’s eyes flared with defiance. “We’re not even sure about the virus,” she shot back, her voice sharp and unwavering. “But one thing I’m certain of—my family has saved thousands of people from the brink of death. And I refuse to stand by and do nothing while I know I can save him!”
Blair twisted in Spencer’s grip, using all her strength to wrench herself free. She staggered slightly but immediately dropped to her knees beside the unconscious student, resuming her efforts to revive him.
Before she could press her lips to him again, a shadow loomed over her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, effortlessly lifting her off the ground.
“What the hell are you doing, Blair?” a deep voice demanded.
She turned her head in shock, her breath catching as she saw Ezra Taylor, his sharp gaze fixed on her with frustration. His powerful arms held her firmly, yet she could sense the restraint behind his actions.
Just as Blair opened her mouth to argue, the student suddenly coughed, a wet, rasping sound escaping his throat. His chest heaved as he sucked in a shallow breath, water dribbling from his mouth. His fingers twitched weakly, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to open them.
Ezra, apparently thought Blair, had swallowed some of the pond water laced with the alleged virus, was now focused on making her vomit. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and, with a stern expression, briskly wiped Blair’s lips as though disinfecting her mouth.
“Ezra, stop it!” Blair protested, squirming in his grip.
Ignoring her protests, Ezra growled, “You’re not keeping whatever you swallowed in there, Blair. Just spit it out.”
When she didn’t comply, Ezra’s expression darkened with determination. He pinched her jaw firmly to open her mouth and, to Spencer’s dread, placed his own finger inside. Blair recoiled, her eyes wide with both indignation and disbelief. And later, after he seemed whispered something in her ear, she finally vomited the Hawaiian pizza she had at lunch in his hand.
Ezra didn’t even flinch. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned her face briefly, ensuring she was fine, before he scooped her effortlessly into his arms. Blair, still disoriented and fuming, didn’t resist this time, leaning against his chest to catch her breath.
Around them, murmurs erupted. The crowd gawked with disbelief. Ezra Taylor—the Ezra Taylor, the mastermind behind the world’s most trusted cybersecurity systems, known for his indifferent, icy demeanor and aloof attitude—was now carrying Blair Wilson like a damsel in distress. The man who rarely acknowledged anyone outside his elite circle now had a fierce protectiveness blazing in his usually impassive eyes.
Spencer, standing a few steps away, observed the scene with clenched fists and a jaw tightly. His sharp eyes followed Ezra’s every move, irritation radiating off him. Blair’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind; “My family has saved thousands of people from the brink of death.” The conviction in her voice replayed over and over, stirring something deeper than frustration within him as he watched her being carried away in Ezra’s arms.