"Alright," Professor Hendrix interrupts. "Passionate discussion, but let's maintain academic discourse. Remember, your midterm papers are due next week."
The rest of class passes in a blur. I don't turn around again. Don't engage. When it's over, I pack my things quickly and head for the door.
"Monroe."
I pause, against my better judgment.
Sebastian catches up to me in the hallway. "Saw you got the email about the gala."
My blood runs cold. "How do you?—"
"I'm on the planning committee. Legacy Council runs it." He tilts his head. "You're participating?"
"I don't have a choice."
"Interesting." He says it like he's discovered something valuable. Dangerous. "See you at the auction, then."
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me in the hallway with the horrible certainty that I've just made a terrible mistake.
Whatever game Sebastian Thornhill is playing, I've just become a piece on his board, and I have no idea how to get off it.
Chapter 2
Sebastian
The Legacy Housesits on the oldest part of Thornhill's campus, a three-story stone mansion that's housed the children of founding families for over a century. My great-great-grandfather lived in the east bedroom. My father lived in the same room. Now it's mine.
Legacy. It's not just a word here. It's a binding contract written in old money and older expectations.
I stand at the floor-to-ceiling window in my bedroom, watching students cross the quad below. From up here, they look like pieces on a chessboard. Pawns, mostly. A few knights. The occasional rook.
And somewhere out there, probably heading to her next shift, is the one piece that won't stay in her assigned square.
Isla Monroe.
My phone buzzes. A text in the Legacy Council group chat from Harrison:Meeting in 20. Gala final planning.
I don't respond. They'll wait for me. They always do.
I grab my coat, Italian wool, custom-fitted and head downstairs. The Legacy House is quiet this morning. Most of the residents are still sleeping off last night's party. I stepped outafter an hour. Watching trust fund kids pretend their lives are hard gets old fast.
The Council meets in the Thornhill Room named after my family, naturally in the administrative building. When I arrive, they're already seated around the antique table. Five students from founding families, each carrying the weight of names that built this university.
Harrison Blackwood, old railroad money, currently dating his way through the sophomore class.
Cecilia Ashworth, Connecticut Ashworths, could buy a small country if she wanted.
Marcus Chen, tech dynasty, actually brilliant unlike the rest of us.
Vivienne Cross, banking empire, sharp enough to run it someday.
And me. Sebastian Thornhill. The name on half the buildings.
"Nice of you to join us," Vivienne says, not looking up from her tablet.
"You'd start without me?" I take my seat at the head of the table. Not because I chose it. Because it's expected.
"Never." Harrison grins. "We were just discussing the auction list. It's... interesting this year."
