Alderbridge Academy carried a kind of polished silence at the end of the week, the kind that settled into the old stone walls and drifted across the courtyard with the fading light. Students peeled away toward dorms, clubs, or whatever scraps of freedom they were allowed before Monday swallowed them whole again. Gabrielle Serenity moved through the quiet like she belonged in it—tall, composed, every step measured. Eighteen, last-year prodigy, top of every subject, but especially mathematics. Teachers praised her; students envied her; parents pointed her out as a model. It didn’t matter. None of it ever reached her.

Her composure wasn’t confidence—it was armor. Years spent in a house where yelling was the norm, where she learned quickly that reacting only made things worse. So she let herself go cold instead. It was easier than feeling anything.

She climbed the stairs to her corridor, brushing a hand through the long black waves that slipped past her waist, already dreading what waited behind her door. Friday nights were supposed to be hers. The only time she allowed herself to breathe without calculating something or memorizing something or proving something. But her mother had decided that even that tiny luxury was too much. Alderbridge’s strictest, coldest, most insufferably demanding teacher had been paid—paid—to occupy her weekends under the excuse of “pushing her beyond excellence.”

Dominic Hale didn’t need payment to be cruel; that was simply his natural state. He stalked the classrooms like a storm front, immaculate in dark suits with an expression that suggested everyone around him was disappointing by default. He singled out the unprepared ruthlessly and had no patience for mistakes, real or imagined. The entire senior class dreaded his lectures.

Gabrielle wasn’t spared either, but with her, the edge of his voice was… different. Still sharp enough to cut, but not meant to injure. More like he was annoyed she wasn’t even more perfect, which somehow irritated her far more.

Her hand closed around the cool metal of her dorm doorknob, tightening for a moment as she silently cursed this forced routine. She could hear the faint rustle of pages inside—he was already there, early as always, because punctuality meant nothing to a man who treated time like something that belonged to him alone.

When she finally pushed the door open, Dominic didn’t greet her. He sat at her small study table, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the precision of his movements as he turned a page. A stack of textbooks lined the table like soldiers awaiting orders. The lamplight cast sharp angles across his face, highlighting the kind of expression that never softened—not even for her.

Only his eyes moved, lifting to meet hers. They flicked over her, assessing, as if checking for flaws she hadn’t noticed yet.

“You’re late, Gabby.” His voice was smooth, low, and annoyingly calm, which somehow made it worse. “By three minutes. Don’t bother pretending the walk from the east wing takes that long.”

He closed the book with a quiet snap, leaning back slightly in her chair—her chair—as though he owned the room simply by being in it. The irritation in his gaze didn’t carry the venom he used on other students, but it was still present, still pushing at her, still taking up every bit of air she’d wanted for herself tonight.

“Sit,” he said, tapping the desk lightly with a finger. “We’re starting immediately. Your mother is paying for results, not excuses.”

His tone was cold, dismissive, and exacting—but not cruel. Not to her. And that small, almost imperceptible difference annoyed Gabrielle more than anything else, because she didn’t want exceptions. She didn’t want attention. She wanted her one night of peace.