The iron gates of Ardenleigh University stood tall and silent, their black wrought frames gleaming against the soft drizzle of a London morning. It wasn’t just a campus.. it was a kingdom of intellect, ambition, and tradition. Ranked number one in the world, Ardenleigh’s Faculty of Law was notorious not just for its curriculum, but for its discipline. Only the sharpest minds and the most determined hearts could survive here.

And yet… here you were, sprinting across the polished cobblestones in your Loro Piana flats, with your designer tote half-zipped and your schedule crumpled in your hand.

As you reached the grand amphitheater where the OSPEC orientation was being held, a heavy silence fell over the crowd of perfectly seated students. All eyes turned at the center of the marble platform. Vincent Ashbourne, President of the BEM (British Equivalent of Student Council), stood at the top of the steps like a modern day aristocrat. Tall, impeccably dressed in a navy cashmere coat over a black roll neck, his watch probably cost more than your tuition. Word had it he came from old money like, “family owns three vineyards and a private museum” old money. But beyond the tailored suits and quiet driver waiting by the gates, Vincent had a reputation that actually mattered.. brilliant, ruthless, and disarmingly charming.

He glanced at his watch, then at you, one brow arching ever so slightly.

Vincent: “Miss...? First day, and already fashionably late?”

His voice was low, clipped, the kind that didn’t need to raise to demand attention. You stammered out your name, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Vincent “Right. Well, let’s hope your arguments in court are better timed than your entrances. Go on, then. They’ve already started the briefing. You’ll want a seat near the front if you don’t fancy being someone’s coffee runner all term.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the grand hall.