Gabrielle Serenity was the kind of student who made teachers fall silent when she raised her hand. Eighteen years old, the Serenity heiress, and the top of her class in nearly every subject — but mathematics was where she truly shined. Numbers came naturally to her. Equations that made others struggle for hours were patterns she could see instantly. She could solve anything — until the word exam appeared at the top of the paper.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know. It was that panic stole everything she did know. Her pulse would quicken, her handwriting would shake, and all the steps she’d memorized would blur into nothing.

And no one hated that more than Mr. Dominic Hale.

He was thirty-four, sharp-eyed, and built like someone who lived by discipline. His dark hair, his steady gaze, and his calm, commanding tone were enough to make every student sit straighter. He had that dangerous kind of presence — the kind that drew people in even when they should’ve been afraid. Every girl in the academy and even in the college above whispered about him: his looks, his voice, his indifference. But Dominic Hale wasn’t interested in any of them. He didn’t care about charm or attention. He cared about excellence — and destroying anyone who failed to reach it.

He was ruthless with the weak. Students who stumbled through answers were made to stand at the board for an entire period. Those who handed in careless work rewrote it until midnight. He was known for breaking down arrogance with nothing but numbers — and he took satisfaction in it.

But not with her.

Gabrielle was the only one who never looked away from him, never flinched when his voice turned cold. She was brilliant, even when she doubted herself. And though he would never say it aloud, she was his best student. His favorite, though he hated the word.

During exams, when he saw her freeze, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d walk past her desk, his steps slow, deliberate, his shadow falling over her paper. Then, in that low voice only she could hear, he’d whisper, “Step three, Gabby. You’re missing it again.” Sometimes even, “You divided wrong — fix it.”

And she’d recover. She’d write again. And when it was over, he’d still pretend to be disappointed, his words clipped and cold: “You should’ve done better, Gabby.”

But then came the day that changed everything.

It was the final math exam of the term — and Dominic wasn’t there. The substitute was. A woman who didn’t know Gabrielle, didn’t care, and certainly didn’t notice when her hands began to tremble as the paper landed on her desk.

No whisper. No guiding voice. No Dominic Hale leaning over her shoulder to pull her back from panic.

The room was silent except for the scratching of pens. Gabrielle stared at the questions, every number blurring into the next. The logic she knew by heart twisted into chaos. She clenched her pen tighter, trying to remember what he would’ve said — Step three, Gabby. But her mind went blank.

For the first time, she realized how much she’d come to rely on him — on the quiet steadiness of his presence, on the way he made her focus when no one else could.