Chapter 69 The New Enemy

Chapter 69 The New Enemy
Bianca’s POV
I HATED losing.
Because losing meant surrendering control, and control was something I valued far more than pride.
For months, Natasha Hamilton had been disrupting that control. Every time I thought I had finally cornered her, someone stepped in to help.
Carlos Santiago defended her. Engineer Pablo protected her. Primo Ashton practically followed her around campus. No matter what I did, she always seemed to escape the consequences that should have buried her long ago.
As if that weren't irritating enough, she had recently acquired a new ally.
Valentina Rossi.
The girl had only been at Vanguard for a week, and I already disliked her.
I stood near the Engineering Building courtyard as students moved between classes. The campus was busy at that hour, with conversations overlapping from every direction and groups gathering along the walkways before heading to their next lectures.
Most students claimed they hated gossip, but experience had taught me otherwise. The moment tension appeared, people slowed down to watch.
That was exactly why I had chosen this location.
When I spotted Natasha standing near the information board, a small smile appeared on my face. She seemed focused on a poster advertising the upcoming international engineering showcase, completely unaware that I was approaching.
Several students lingered nearby. Enough to make things interesting.
I adjusted the strap of my handbag before making my way across the courtyard.
“Tasha,” I called pleasantly.
She turned toward me, and for the briefest moment I caught a flash of disappointment in her expression before she hid it behind a polite smile.
Interesting.
Apparently, she had been expecting someone else.
“Bianca,” she said.
Her voice was calm and controlled, but I had spent enough time around her to recognize caution when I heard it.
“I heard you're applying for the international engineering showcase,” I said as I stopped beside her. “Congratulations. That's a significant opportunity.”
“I'm still considering it,” Tasha replied. “The application deadline hasn't passed yet.”
“That's true,” I said with a smile. “Although I imagine there are other things you'll need to consider as well.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Such as?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Oh, nothing unusual. Sponsors can be very particular about the students they choose to support. They tend to value stability, consistency, and a strong public image.”
The meaning behind my words settled between us immediately. Several nearby students glanced in our direction.
Exactly as I'd hoped.
Tasha's expression hardened. “What are you trying to say, Bianca?”
I lifted an innocent shoulder. “Nothing. I'm simply pointing out that sponsors can be cautious when controversy is involved.”
The meaning settled over the conversation almost immediately. Several students exchanged glances.
One girl whispered something to her friend.
I pretended not to notice.
Tasha certainly noticed.
Her expression hardened. “What exactly are you implying?”
I tilted my head innocently. “Why would I be implying anything?”
“You know exactly why.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. “No, Tasha. I think you're misunderstanding me.”
“I don't think I am.”
“Then perhaps you should explain it to me.”
For a second, she simply stared at me. I could practically see her debating whether responding would make the situation worse.
Good.
That uncertainty was exactly where I wanted her. I took another step.
“Look around,” I said softly. “People are talking.”
Her jaw tightened. “People always talk.”
“True,” I agreed. “But lately they've been talking about you.”
The crowd around us grew larger. Students were no longer pretending not to listen. Now they were openly watching.
I continued before she could interrupt. “There's the investigation surrounding Ricardo Hamilton.” I held up one finger. “There's the constant drama involving the racing department.” A second finger. “There's the gossip about your relationship with Carlos.” A third. “Then there's whatever is happening with Primo Ashton.”
The silence that followed felt electric.
“Tasha,” I said, lowering my voice slightly, “if sponsors hesitate, can you really blame them?”
Anger flashed across her face. Finally. There it was.
“Do you ever get tired of doing this?” she asked.
I blinked. “Doing what?”
“Trying to humiliate people.”
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Others looked fascinated.
I smiled. “I think you're giving yourself far too much importance.”
“You approached me and started this conversation,” she said. “You brought up rumors.”
I nodded. “All true.”
“Then stop pretending.”
The accusation hung between us. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I laughed softly. The sound carried farther than I intended.
“That's the thing, Tasha,” I said. “If discussing your reputation embarrasses you, perhaps the problem isn't the conversation.”
Her eyes flashed. “Maybe the problem is the person spreading those rumors.”
Before I could answer, a new voice cut through the tension. 
“Wow.”
The word echoed clearly across the courtyard. Everyone turned. Including me.
The transferee girl named Valentina Rossi was walking toward us with a notebook tucked beneath one arm and an expression that suggested she had just witnessed something incredibly stupid.
“That's honestly embarrassing,” she announced.
She stopped beside Tasha and looked directly at me.
“I've only been here a week,” she continued, “and somehow I've already figured out your entire personality.”
Several students immediately laughed. My smile tightened. Val didn't even glance at them. She kept her attention fixed on me.
“Which is impressive,” she added thoughtfully. “Usually it takes me longer than seven days to become annoyed by someone.”
The realization didn't make it any less infuriating.
I folded my arms across my chest and fixed Val with a cold stare. “You seem very interested in involving yourself in other people's business,” I said.
Val didn't look the least bit offended. Instead, she nodded as though I had just pointed out something obvious.
“I am,” she replied.
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because bullies annoy me,” she said without hesitation.
The answer came so quickly that it caught me off guard.
For a brief moment, genuine silence settled over the crowd. Several students exchanged glances, clearly surprised by how directly she had said it.
Val looked around at the gathered audience before turning her attention back to me.
“I've met people like you before,” she continued. “Different names. Different schools. Same personality.”
My jaw tightened. “You don't know anything about me.”
“Maybe not everything,” Val said with a small shrug. “But I know enough.”
There wasn't a trace of uncertainty in her voice. It was annoyingly calm. Annoyingly confident.
“The funny thing about people who rely on intimidation,” she continued, adjusting the notebook tucked beneath her arm, “is that they usually fall apart the moment someone refuses to be intimidated.”
A few students near the back murmured their agreement. Others nodded.
To my irritation, nobody seemed eager to defend me. The atmosphere had shifted completely. This wasn't my confrontation anymore.
It belonged to Val.
And judging by the expressions around us, everyone knew it.
For the first time, I understood exactly why she bothered me so much.
Val wasn't afraid.
Most students worried about social consequences. They worried about reputation, influence, connections, and how quickly public opinion could turn against them.
Val seemed completely immune to all of it. That made her dangerous. Because fearless people couldn't be controlled the same way everyone else could.
The bell signaling the next class finally rang across campus, breaking some of the tension that had settled over the courtyard.
Students slowly began dispersing, but many of them left smiling and laughing as they replayed the confrontation for their friends.
By sunset, everyone at Vanguard would know what had happened.
Wonderful.
I waited until most of the crowd had disappeared before looking directly at Val. She met my gaze without hesitation.
The smile had vanished from my face completely.
“I don't like you,” I said.
The words slipped out before I could stop them. To my annoyance, Val looked delighted.
“That's okay,” she replied cheerfully.
“No,” I said, taking a step closer. “I don't think you understand. I mean it.”
“So do I.”
The casual response made my teeth clench. “You've made a mistake.”
For the first time since she'd joined the conversation, Val's expression sharpened slightly.
Not with fear or concern—with recognition. As though she finally understood exactly what this moment was.
Lowering my voice, I made sure only the few remaining students could hear me.
“You wanted my attention,” I said quietly.
Val stared at me for a second. Then she laughed. The sound only deepened my irritation. She shifted her notebook beneath her arm and held my gaze.
Around us, a handful of students slowed their steps, sensing that neither of us was quite finished.
I expected caution. I expected uncertainty.
At the very least, I expected her to realize what she had started.
Instead, Val smiled.
The expression was bright, confident, and entirely unapologetic.
Then she delivered the final blow. “Get in line.”
The remaining students burst into laughter. Several nearly choked trying to hold it in.
And in that exact moment, I realized one thing with absolute certainty.
Natasha Hamilton was no longer my biggest problem.
Valentina Rossi was.