Page 43 of The Cruel Heir
Her words landed on me, heavier than I expected. I felt the heat rise in my chest, not because I doubted my curls, no, those were mine, alive and defiant, but because the message was clear.
You don’t belong here as you are.
Madeline’s eyes found mine, quick and calculating, like she was testing how much I could take before I broke. “Not that her natural hair isn’t beautiful. It’s just... this place has standards. Expectations.”
Expectations. The same word that tied me down, kept me boxed in, erased in the name of fitting in.
I wrapped my fingers tighter around my teacup, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. They weren’t looking at Zara,the woman who had fought tooth and nail to get here, they were looking at my hair, my body, my very presence.
It wasn’t like I wanted to be seen. I didn’t want their attention. But my mere existence was what they were protesting against. As if, by my presence, I was bringing down their neighborhood. Pushing against the status quo.
And it gutted me that, some days, I believed it.
I grabbedmy bag and stepped outside, shaking off my bullshit thoughts. My worn sneakers crunched against the damp pavement. The brisk morning air sent a slight chill up my arms, but I barely registered it as my eyes locked onto the sleek, imposing, black car idling near the sidewalk. My steps faltered, my stomach knotting at the sight.
Sterling was already waiting in the driver’s seat, his sharp, unreadable gaze locking onto me as the door unlocked with a soft click. He didn't bother with pleasantries.
"Get in."
I hesitated, gripping the strap of my bag. “I have to look for work.”
A half-truth. I'd been planning to stop by the country club later today, to see if Tara would let me pick up shifts again, even after everything. I hadn’t officially quit, but it felt like Sterling had pulled strings behind my back, because one day my name just disappeared from the schedule. No warnings. No confrontation. Just silence. A closed door I hadn’t been brave enough to reopen.
Not until today. Not until I’d convinced myself that maybe Tara didn’t know what really happened.
“Not anymore,” he said flatly. “You’re starting at Saint Bipal University today. Just like you’d always dreamed.”
My stomach twisted, pulse spiking. Of course he knew. He’d been sitting at that table when my father declared it, even promised he’d take me himself. But hearing it from Sterling’s mouth made it real, like chains tightening around my ribs. He made it sound like a gift. But it wasn’t. Not when he was the one who’d stripped away every other option.
It had been a dream once. A long time ago. But dreams didn’t survive men like him. And they sure as hell didn’t pay rent.
I hadn’t even told him I was planning to talk to Tara. That I’d been up all night, wondering if I could swallow my pride, and ask for a few shifts. Maybe if I showed up in person, if I worked hard enough, I could prove I still deserved a spot.
But now that door was gone too.
And that didn’t feel like freedom.
It felt like a cage lined in gold.
The command was silent but clear. With a reluctant sigh, I climbed in, the door shutting with a weight that settled deep in my chest.
The air inside was thick, tension coiling like a live wire between us. The faint scent of leather, and Sterling’s cologne, wrapped around me, intoxicating and suffocating all at once. I pressed myself against the cool window, willing the space between us to stretch farther, but Sterling’s presence dominated the car.
We pulled up to the university and got out. Sterling held open the door for me. He ushered me into a community hall that directed us to what area we needed to be in.
Inside the student center, enrolling felt almost ceremonial. The walls were lined with gold-framed portraits of distinguished alumni, their gazes a silent reminder of the legacy Saint Bipal upheld. The registrar's office was sleek and pristine, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and paper, as I sat stiffly beside Sterling, my fingers curling against the armrest of the chair.
The woman across from me barely lifted her eyes from the computer screen, as she processed the paperwork, using a quick scanner to make a laminated university identity card, her tone clipped and efficient as she handed it to me. "Here is your ID. Your class schedule has been completed, and orientation is next week. Welcome to Saint Bipal University."
I forced a nod, my stomach tight with unease. This wasn't my choice, not really. It was another decision made for me, another thread of control Sterling had tightened around my life.
I stepped out of the office, my shoulders tense, my new student ID clutched tightly in my hand. The grand hallway buzzed with energy, the air thick with laughter and murmured conversations. Students moved in effortless synchronization, their designer outfits immaculate, their presence radiating wealth and prestige. The scent of expensive cologne and freshly pressed silk lingered in the air, a constant reminder that I didn’t belong here.
Beside me, Sterling walked with a calm confidence, his presence commanding attention, even among the privileged. Every step I took felt heavier, like I was sinking deeper into a life that had been decided for me. My name was now inked into the institution’s records, binding me to this world in ways I hadn’t asked for.
As we neared the exit, I exhaled, trying to steady myself. But just as we reached the heavy double doors, a voice I hadn’t heard in months curled through the air, smug and unmistakable.
"Zara."
