Chapter 22 BLOOD MONEY
POV SYLVIE
The reward for my "loyalty" arrived at 8:00 AM on Monday morning.
It wasn't a bouquet of peonies. It wasn't a desperate declaration of love. It was a crisp, cream-colored envelope sitting on my dorm room floor, slipped under the door with the clinical precision of a surgical strike.
I picked it up, my fingers feeling numb. Inside was a single check from the Cavill Foundation and a note embossed with the family crest.
Miss Belrose, Your recent display of pragmatism in the university commons did not go unnoticed. You have proven yourself to be an asset capable of prioritizing long-term stability over short-term sentimentality. Consider this an advance on your semester’s stipend. A Cavill always pays their debts. — A.C.
I looked at the number on the check. It was more money than my mother made in two years at the tire shop. It was enough to cover my books, my housing, and a significant portion of my mom’s mortgage back home.
It was blood money. The price of Nathaniel’s broken heart.
I walked over to the trash can, ready to shred it, to burn it, to throw it back in Arthur’s face. But my hand stopped. I thought of the stack of bills on my mother’s kitchen table. I thought of her worn-out shoes and the way she sighed when she checked her bank balance.
"I hate you," I whispered to the empty room, but I folded the check and tucked it into my wallet.
Arthur Cavill didn't just buy my silence; he bought my complicity. He knew that a girl like me—a girl who had spent her life scraping for every cent—couldn't afford the luxury of a conscience.
The campus felt different without Nathaniel. It was as if the sun had dimmed by fifty percent. I walked through the Quad, heading toward our shared Constitutional Law seminar, bracing myself for the sight of him. I had practiced my "cold" face in the mirror for twenty minutes. I was ready to be the ice queen again.
But the seat next to mine was empty.
Professor Sterling walked in, his heels clicking on the linoleum. "Before we begin, a brief announcement. Mr. Cavill has been granted an emergency leave of absence for personal family matters. He will be completing his coursework remotely for the foreseeable future. Any questions regarding the study groups he was leading should be directed to the TA."
The room erupted in whispers.
"Remote?" Chloe hissed, leaning over from the row behind me. "Sylvie, he’s gone. He didn't just leave the cafeteria; he left the state. People are saying his grandfather sent him to London. Others are saying he’s at the family estate in the Hamptons, 'recovering'."
I stared at the empty mahogany desk. The spot where his elbow used to brush mine. The wood looked cold.
"I don't care, Chloe," I said, my voice as flat as a dial tone. "It’s better this way. Less distraction."
"You're a liar," she whispered, but she saw the look in my eyes and stopped.
The lecture was a blur. I took notes, my pen moving across the paper with mechanical accuracy, but the information wasn't sinking in. I was a vessel of hollow facts. Every time the door opened, I felt a jolt of hope so sharp it hurt, only to be crushed when it was just a late student or a janitor.
After class, I didn't go to the library. I couldn't stand the silence there. Instead, I walked to the campus park, to the lake where we had sat in his car just a few nights ago.
The weeping willows were still there, their branches swaying in the biting wind. I sat on the same stone bench where I’d cried over the "Virginity Vortex."
My phone buzzed. A notification from the Astoria Whisperer.
THE ASTORIA WHISPERER: THE PRINCE IN EXILE? Following the dramatic 'Peony Massacre' in the cafeteria, Nathaniel Cavill has officially vanished from campus. Sources say the heir was seen boarding a private jet at Teterboro on Saturday night. Meanwhile, Sylvie Belrose seems to be enjoying her newfound 'stability.' Is the scholarship girl a brilliant strategist or just a cold-hearted social climber who got what she wanted? Vote in our poll!
I closed the app, the screen feeling hot against my palm. I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to tell them that I was dying inside. I wanted to tell them that the check in my wallet felt like a brand on my skin.
But I had chosen this. I had signed the invisible addendum.
I spent the rest of the week in a state of living suspended animation. I ate because I had to. I studied because it was the only thing I had left. I didn't call Nathaniel. I didn't text him. I deleted his number, though it was carved into my brain like a tattoo.
By Thursday, the "reward" from Arthur felt like a lead weight. I couldn't keep it. I walked to the campus post office and bought a money order. I sent the entire amount to my mother with a note that said: Won a prestigious essay contest. Enjoy the peace of mind. Love, Sylvie.
It was a lie, but it was the only way I could live with myself.
Friday night arrived, and the campus was buzzing with a fraternity formal. From my dorm window, I could see the girls in their glittery dresses and the boys in their tuxedos. A week ago, I would have been one of them. I would have been in Nathaniel’s arms, arguing about legal precedents while we danced.
Instead, I was in my pajamas, staring at a textbook on "Breach of Contract."
A soft knock sounded at my door. My heart stopped.
"Nathaniel?" I whispered, scrambling to the door.
I threw it open, my breath hitching in my throat. But it wasn't Nathaniel.
It was Silas.
He was standing in the hallway, his black umbrella dripping onto the carpet. He looked as impassive as ever, but there was a flicker of something—pity? exhaustion?—in his eyes.
"Miss Belrose," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"Where is he, Silas?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Is he in London? Is he okay?"
Silas looked down at the floor, then back at me. "Mr. Nathaniel is... not in London. He refused to board the jet. He is currently at the city townhouse, under what Mr. Cavill calls 'supervision.' He has refused to eat since Tuesday. He has also refused to speak to anyone."
The air left my lungs in a rush. "He’s on a hunger strike? Because of me?"
"He is a Cavill, Miss Belrose. We are a family of extremes. When we love, we do so with a destructive intensity. And when we are betrayed..." Silas paused, his gaze intensifying. "Mr. Cavill believes he has won. He believes you are safely under his thumb and that Nathaniel will eventually succumb to his duties."
"And you?" I asked. "Why are you telling me this?"
Silas reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. "I am a man who has served this family for forty years. I have seen the 'legacy' destroy many things. I do not wish to see it destroy him. Or you."
He handed me the paper. It was a gate code and a room number.
"The security shift changes at midnight," Silas said. "The service entrance in the alley is usually left unlocked for the laundry delivery. If one were to be quick, and quiet..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He simply turned and started walking away.
"Silas!" I called out.
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"Why help me? Arthur will fire you."
"Mr. Cavill believes he owns the world because he has the most money," Silas said, his voice echoing in the hallway. "But money cannot buy a 4.0 GPA. And it certainly cannot buy the kind of fire I saw in your eyes when you looked at his grandson. Goodnight, Miss Belrose."
I watched him disappear around the corner. I looked at the gate code in my hand.
Midnight. The service entrance.
Arthur Cavill had given me a check. He had given me a future. He had given me the "security" I had craved my entire life.
But as I looked at the code, I realized that I didn't want a future without the boy who brought me pink peonies.
I grabbed my coat. I grabbed my keys. I didn't check my bank account. I didn't think about my scholarship. For the first time in eighteen years, I wasn't being practical. I wasn't being a law student.
I was being a girl in love. And Arthur Cavill was about to find out that a scholarship girl with nothing to lose is the most dangerous opponent he’s ever faced.