Chapter Eleven: Carol's POV
News spread across campus faster than I expected. As I walked through the Life Sciences building hallway, there were whispers everywhere, people staring at me.
Within one morning, it seemed everyone knew: Maurice St. Claire—that brilliant, exacting, notoriously difficult professor—had chosen a sophomore to be his research assistant, and that sophomore was me.
Emma chatted excitedly beside me, talking about what a great opportunity this was, how useful it would be for graduate school applications, how jealous everyone must be.
I should have been happy.
This was the opportunity I'd been working toward.
All those late nights studying had finally paid off.
But I wasn't happy. I only felt that familiar unease. In a world that always wanted to deny you, success could actually make you more anxious. And there was another fear, a more primitive one—I knew Maurice's interest in me wasn't just because of my academic abilities.
He wanted something else from me.
After class, I crossed the plaza.
Suddenly, I heard her voice, cutting through the surrounding student chatter and rustling leaves.
I recognized that voice. It was my sister, Seraphina.
After Father died, Simon didn't drive me and my stepmother away, just let them fend for themselves.
Unexpectedly, my stepmother remarried a businessman, and Seraphina had another chance to appear before me.
"Well, well, if it isn't our genius," Seraphina's tone pretended to be sweet, but that sweetness carried malice.
She stood by the fountain, flanked by three friends. Caitlin, known for loving the spotlight. And two others whose names I'd never bothered to remember.
But I immediately recognized that contemptuous expression on their faces. They wore designer clothes, hair perfectly styled, the kind of people who'd never had to work for anything.
They believed the world should revolve around them, because it always had.
Seraphina herself looked absolutely perfect.
Cream cashmere sweater, perfectly tailored pants, dark hair styled just so. She wore a smile on her face, the kind I'd seen countless times—the smile she wore before hurting someone.
I stopped, meeting her gaze directly, though my heart rate picked up a beat. "Seraphina." My voice was neutral, neither warm nor cold.
Students around us began to slow down. They smelled trouble brewing.
"I heard some very interesting news," she continued, taking a few steps toward me. "About you and Professor St. Claire. A research assistant position? For a sophomore, that's quite remarkable."
The way she said "quite" made her meaning clear—she thought it wasn't remarkable at all, or she thought something was wrong with it.
"I was fortunate that he saw the potential in my work," I said, keeping my expression neutral. I knew not to take her bait.
She was best at finding people's weaknesses and using them against you.
She could always make me look like the bad guy while she played concerned.
Caitlin laughed, the sound grating. "Potential? Is that what they're calling it now?" She exchanged a look with the other two. My heart sank. "I mean, we all know Professor St. Claire has very particular tastes. Very... selective standards."
"What are you trying to say?" My words came out sharper than I intended. Seraphina's smile grew more obvious—she was pleased she'd annoyed me.
"Oh, nothing," she said. Her hand came up, touching the pearl necklace at her throat, the gesture affected.
"It's just that Maurice typically only takes graduate students. And only those who've published multiple papers and proven themselves through years of rigorous research. So for him to make an exception for you, well..." She deliberately didn't finish. The implication was clear. "People are naturally curious what special something you offered that was so attractive."
The words hit like a punch. I tried to stay calm, but my face started heating up.
People around us began whispering. Passing students stopped to watch, eyes carrying that excitement of witnessing drama.
This was exactly what Seraphina wanted—a public spectacle, a chance to humiliate me in front of everyone, a chance to make people doubt my abilities and character. These words would spread, regardless of the truth.
"My qualifications?" I said, enunciating each word. "4.0 in Advanced Genetics, two published papers, a recommendation letter from Professor Chen."
I watched Seraphina's perfect smile stiffen slightly. "Before Professor St. Claire extended the invitation, he reviewed my transcript and research portfolio. If you have questions about his standards, you can visit him in his office. His office hours are listed on the faculty directory."
I didn't like lying like this.
I knew why Maurice chose me, and it had to do with what he did to me that night, nothing to do with grades. But I would never let Seraphina see me break down.
The other girl, the redhead who seemed to be called Ashley, tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "It's just that Professor St. Claire is very particular about maintaining certain standards, and, um..." She glanced at Seraphina as if asking permission to continue. "There are some rumors about his selection process. About his expectations for assistants, especially female assistants. You know what I mean."
I understood completely. They were implying I slept my way into this position. Trading sex for academic opportunities.
It was ironic, because their insinuation was meant to insult me, but it was closer to the truth than they knew.
"If you have concerns about Professor St. Claire's selection process," I said, voice cold, cutting directly through their mockery, "I suggest you take it up with him personally. Or try for the position yourself instead of assuming everyone who gets it must be shameless."
I looked at each of them in turn, refusing to look away first.
I'd been an outsider in the family since childhood. I'd long learned how to stand my ground.
Seraphina's face darkened, the smile vanishing, revealing the malice beneath. "How dare you—"
"How dare I what?" I interrupted, taking a step toward her even though my legs felt weak.
"State facts? Point out that you're just jealous? You've had everything handed to you your whole life, Seraphina. When someone actually works hard to earn something, you can't comprehend it. But that's not my problem."
"You little—" Ashley stepped forward, but Seraphina raised a hand to stop her.
"Fine," Seraphina said, but fire burned in her eyes. "Let Carol be happy. I'm sure it won't last long."
She smoothed her sweater. "You know what? I think I really should go talk to Professor St. Claire. I'm very interested to hear what he thinks of his new student. Especially after I tell him some things he might not know about you."
My heart sank. "My background has nothing to do with my academic qualifications."
"Doesn't it?" Seraphina's smile grew uglier. "I imagine a professor as distinguished as Maurice St. Claire would very much want to know that his brilliant new assistant is actually just a charity case—"
"Enough."
That voice was low, firm, cutting off Seraphina's words. Leon's voice.
He stood about twenty feet away, no expression on his face, but standing there, obviously protecting me.
He must have been following me as usual, watching from a distance. Now he was walking toward me, looking more dangerous than he appeared.
I wanted to wave him away, handle this myself. But I was relieved he was here.
Seraphina's eyes widened slightly when she saw Leon approaching.
Her friends looked at each other, expressions nervous. They might not know who he was, but could sense this person was dangerous.
I glanced at Leon, shaking my head slightly. I wanted to tell him I didn't need him to intervene, I could handle this myself.
He paused, understanding my expression. He was hesitating—wanting to protect me, but also wanting to respect my wishes.
After a moment, he stayed in place but didn't leave. He just stood there, saying nothing, but the whole atmosphere of the confrontation had changed.
"I have nothing more to say to you," I told Seraphina.
I kept my voice steady, though my heart was pounding. "If you want to bother Professor St. Claire with your petty concerns, that's your business. But I think you'll find he's more interested in academic achievement than gossip."
"We'll see," Seraphina raised her chin. "See what he thinks when he knows your true face. A poor orphan rescued from a casino, who doesn't even belong to the family she claims."
Those words hurt me more than I wanted to admit. They poked at places that had never truly healed.
But before I could respond, another voice interrupted.
"Is there a problem here?"