Chapter 37 THE FIRST MOVE.
Elsie’s POV:
I ran down the hallway.
I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back tears until they finally broke free, hot and embarrassing against my cheeks.
I kept my head down as I passed clusters of students, offering quick greetings in my direction.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elsie!”
“Hi, Miss Elsie!”
I just nodded, hiding my face behind my hair, letting it fall like a curtain so no one would see the mess I was making of myself.
My throat burned.
My chest felt hollow.
The sting behind my eyes was unbearable.
I kept walking… kept breathing… kept pretending everything was fine.
Then finally — the hallway emptied.
Completely.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No eyes watching me.
Just me.
Alone.
I stopped abruptly, releasing a long, bored sigh, rolling my eyes like the tears meant nothing at all.
Pathetic.
Slowly, I brushed the remaining drops from my cheeks. The wetness felt cold, almost annoying.
I sniffed once, straightened my shoulders, and glanced around to make sure the hallway was truly empty.
Silence.
Stillness.
Perfect.
A tiny smile tugged at my lips - barely there at first.
Then I slipped my hand into my bag and pulled out my small silver mirror.
The moment my reflection appeared, I smirked.
My eyes were red.
My mascara lightly smudged.
I looked like someone who’d just had her heart cracked open.
But somehow… I also looked beautiful.
“Get a grip,” I whispered to myself, and shot my reflection a playful wink.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, adjusting it gently.
Then I tilted my head, letting the smirk spread wider… wider…
Until suddenly it wasn’t a smirk anymore.
It was laughter.
A sharp breath escaped me, then another - and then I laughed.
Full, loud, uncontrollable laughter that echoed down the empty hallway.
Tears welled again, but this time they weren’t from pain.
No.
These were different.
A tear slipped down my cheek as the laughter grew deeper, richer, almost hysterical.
I looked at myself in the mirror — eyes shining, mouth open in a grin far too wide to be sane — and the sound that came out of me didn’t sound human.
My laughter softened into a shaky giggle as I lowered the mirror.
“Oh, Asher…” I whispered to no one.
“…you really thought I was letting you go?”
The empty hallway swallowed my voice whole.
And I smiled again - slow, steady, terrifyingly calm.
How do people even cry this deep and this hard?
I wiped my face again, annoyed.
The tears had felt real a moment ago - heavy, sharp, like something inside me cracked open…
But now?
Now they felt distant.
Stupid, even.
And that thing I whispered earlier - letting you go?
I snorted, rolling my eyes, the corner of my lips tugging up in a mocking half-smile.
“Never. That’s never happening. Not now. Not anytime soon.”
I shook my head, laughing under my breath.
The funniest part?
The absolute joke of the whole situation?
Asher actually believed it.
He believed me.
Of all people.
“Bullshit,” I whispered, amused at the ridiculousness of it all.
I’ve always known Asher was soft where I was concerned.
Too soft.
Like no matter what happened, I could tug just a little, and he’d bend.
He’d always bend.
So of course this was going to be easy.
Of course, pulling away, pretending to walk out, pretending to be broken—
It was all part of the game.
Because if I really let him go…
Then what exactly was supposed to happen to my actual plan?
The whole reason I came to Cleveland College?
My jaw tightened instantly - sharp, hot anger sparking in my chest -
Because her face flickered in my mind.
Clara Bennett.
That annoying, foolish, white-haired girl with her innocent little smile and her pathetic cluelessness.
I didn’t need the universe to tell me she had Asher wrapped around her pinky finger.
Not one bit.
The signs were everywhere.
A pinky finger I had every intention of dealing with.
Soon.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, forcing myself to calm down, but the anger kept pulsing under my skin.
And then—
A realization hit me so hard I actually gasped.
Wow.
Had I really been that gentle in my thoughts?
Cutting off her pinky?
That was me being lenient?
I blinked once… then smirked, dark and quiet.
“Why stop at a finger,” I whispered to myself, “When there are so many other ways to take someone apart?”
Seeing Clara here never surprised me.
Not once.
In fact, every time her face appeared - every time her presence brushed the same air I breathed - it didn’t shock me.
It spited me.
It irritated something deep in my bones, something old and territorial and sharp.
And why wouldn’t it?
After everything that happened…
After the way Asher ended things with me back then…
After the way he walked out like I was the problem…
Like his heart wasn’t the one mangled and confused…
I had every right to be pissed.
I was pissed.
I’d wanted to hurt him for that - teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
So yes, I kept tabs on him.
Of course I did.
More like… I kept tabs on them.
My private investigator sent updates regularly - photos of Asher and Clara together, standing too close, whispering, touching, looking at each other like something was developing between them.
Even pictures where their closeness looked… compromising.
And when I learned—
When I confirmed—
That they’d slept together?
A cool, steady bitterness spread through me.
Not loud.
Not messy.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Like a storm deciding exactly where to strike.
That was when I knew I had to come here myself.
Handle things personally.
Fix what needed fixing.
So, I registered at Cleveland College—
Not as myself, not fully—
But under the neat little disguise of an assistant tutor.
The paperwork was annoying.
The work was tedious.
The rules, the schedules, the hierarchy…
All of it a nuisance.
But why complain?
When every hour of irritation still brought me closer to my mate?
Because yes—Asher is mine.
And what did he think?
Disappear without a trace from Blackwood Pack,
Run to Cleveland College,
Settle down as a tutor—
A tutor, of all things—
And I wouldn’t find him?
I even laughed when I discovered which department he ended up in.
The great Asher Blackwood…
Teaching?
He always hated the idea of being a tutor.
Always said it felt restrictive, like being caged.
So why was he here?
Why this job?
Why this place?
And why… with her?
I clenched my fists at the thought.
He has no idea how closely I’ve been watching him.
How easily I could read his body language earlier—
The tremor in his fingers,
The unsteady breath,
The panic squeezing his voice when he tended to Clara’s injuries.
That moment?
I nearly snapped.
I wanted nothing more than to storm across the room and tear her off him—
To make her disappear from the picture entirely.
Her existence around him felt like a stain.
A wrongness.
And when I said, so casually, that he loved her…
The way he reacted?
The way he tensed, fought it, denied it even with his face, his breath, his heartbeat?
He was conflicted.
He didn’t want to admit anything.
Good.
Perfect, actually.
Because the more he fought those feelings,
The easier it was for me to maneuver behind the scenes.
I’m already three steps ahead.
I pulled that little “let’s just be friends” performance today for a reason.
I needed him off balance—
Disoriented long enough, uncertain, and unsure of where we stood.
That he wouldn’t see my next moves coming.
Because when everything collapses—
When things finally go south—
He won’t suspect me.
Not immediately.
Not even closely.
He won’t see it coming at all.
I tilted my head slightly, a cold, calm smile forming.
And Clara?
Clara will be the easiest piece on the board.
Because I’d already planted the perfect seed in her head.
I almost laughed thinking about it.
That little conversation I’d had with her earlier—
The gentle warning,
The concerned tone,
The “Are you sure nothing is going on between you and Professor Asher?” act—”
Clara had swallowed every bit of it.
I’d watched her face drain,
Watched her heartbeat stutter behind her eyes,
Watched the panic grow as she tried to convince me—
And herself—
That nothing was happening.
And now?
Now she’ll avoid Asher.
She’ll stay away,
Try to prove she’s “respectful,”
Try not to give me the wrong impression.
Meaning even if Asher tries to get close to her…
She’ll pull back.
Not because of him.
Not because of guilt.
But because of me.
Because she’s scared of upsetting me.
Scared of being seen as “That girl.”
Scared of the consequences I implied so sweetly.
The confusion I caused between them?
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Exactly what I wanted.
All I had to do was smile politely
And pretend I’d let Asher go…
And instantly,
The little white-haired idiot will assume she needs to stay far, far away from him.
And Asher—
Sweet, conflicted, clueless Asher—
Will think I moved on.
He’ll have no idea
That I just pulled the rug out from under both of them.
I tilted my head again, smirking at the thought.
One move.
Just one.
And they’re already spiraling exactly where I want them.
When I finally strike,
Neither of them will see the blow coming—
Only that it hit hard,
And hit deep,
And hit exactly where it was meant to.