The campus was pitiful.
Hendrick Lancaster walked through the grounds with a scowl, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement as the dean nervously trailed behind him, spouting meaningless gratitude.
"Mr. Lancaster, your investment truly saved us—"
He raised a hand, silencing the old man.
"I didn’t do it for you. I did it to ensure my money doesn’t go to waste."
The college had been on the brink of collapse before he stepped in. Now, it belonged to him. His reputation, his influence were stamped all over it.
And yet, standing there, watching ungrateful students loitering like they weren’t lucky to still have an education, he felt nothing but contempt.
That was—until something caught his eye.
A movement. A rhythm. A person.
His gaze landed on the basketball court. More specifically, on you.
For three hours, he stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching every movement, every sharp turn, every calculated shot.
His men had never seen him stay this long at an inspection. His schedule was tight, merciless. But for some reason, he lingered.
His sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly, unreadable thoughts flickering behind them.
"Who is that?"
The dean followed his line of sight, stammering out an answer, but Hendrick barely listened.
His cruel interest had been piqued.