The next morning dawned with the brilliance of a new chapter in the history of Pleasant Hills Academy. The sprawling campus buzzed with excitement, as students and staff prepared for the official announcement of the contenders for the Leadership and Legacy Competition. The competition had always been an elite event, gathering the best and brightest from across Pleasant Hills, and this year was no different. The anticipation was palpable, a hum in the air that accompanied every step I took.
I stood before the tall mirror in my room, smoothing down the sleek fabric of my designer outfit—a custom-tailored cream blazer with gold buttons from Alexander McQueen, paired with a crisp white blouse and high-waisted trousers by Balmain. My ensemble was finished off with a pair of nude Louboutin heels, the signature red soles flashing beneath my steps. It was the perfect balance between elegance and power, exactly the image I needed to project today.
On my wrist, the delicate Cartier watch that had belonged to my grandmother glinted in the soft morning light. I touched the pendant at my neck, the one she had given me, feeling its familiar weight. This competition was about more than just proving myself; it was about upholding the Monte Riego legacy, a responsibility that pressed down on me like an invisible burden.
Leonara entered my room, dressed in a chic tailored jumpsuit by Stella McCartney, her brownish-red hair swept up in a high ponytail. The scent of Chanel No. 5 followed her as she breezed in, holding up her phone.
"They've posted the official list," she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Seventeen contenders, all from the top schools in Pleasant Hills. Oh, and guess who's on it?" She flashed me a grin, though there was a hint of something more behind her eyes—perhaps concern.
I raised an eyebrow, crossing the room to look at the screen. The list of names was displayed prominently on the school's social media page, each contender marked with their respective school's crest. My eyes skimmed the names, all familiar from various social circles—children of Pleasant Hills' wealthiest and most powerful families. And then, there it was:
Kieran Salvatore – Pleasant Hills Academy
My heart skipped a beat. Kieran was part of the competition. I hadn't expected this, but now, everything felt even more complicated. His presence had always been an enigma, and now he was directly involved in the one event that could define my future.
Leonara noticed my reaction. "You didn't know?" she asked softly, her tone uncharacteristically serious.
I shook my head. "No. But it makes sense now. He's always been… around. Watching."
Leonara's gaze flickered with understanding, but she said nothing more on the subject, instead scrolling through the rest of the names. "These are the ones to watch out for," she said, pointing to a few. "Kristoff Windler from Veridian Academy—sharp as a knife and ruthless. Dahlia Moore from Westwood High—her family practically owns half the businesses in Pleasant Hills. And, of course, Lianne War Thornstone, also from the Veridian Academy." The last name rolled off her tongue with a hint of distaste.
I nodded, my mind still lingering on Kieran. What role did he play in all of this? And why had his presence always felt like more than mere coincidence?
The grand assembly hall of Pleasant Hills Academy was packed with students and faculty, the air thick with anticipation. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in sunlight, glinting off the polished marble floors and the rows of gleaming gold plaques that adorned the walls—each one commemorating past winners of the competition.
I sat near the front with Leonara beside me, both of us projecting an air of calm that belied the intensity of the moment. My eyes swept the room, taking in the faces of the other contenders. I recognized most of them—heirs and heiresses, future leaders, all wearing the finest clothes money could buy. Some wore designer brands that even I admired, from the classic tailoring of Dior to the bold prints of Versace.
At the center of the room stood Professor Orlando, the advisor to the competition. He was an older man, always impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit with a silk pocket square. His shoes—patent leather Berluti—gleamed under the lights. He exuded an air of authority, the kind that made everyone fall silent the moment he stepped up to speak.
"Welcome, contenders," he began, his voice carrying through the room with the weight of tradition. "Today marks the beginning of an important journey, one that will test your leadership, intellect, and character. As you know, the Leadership and Legacy Competition is not just about winning. It is about proving that you are worthy to carry the legacy of those who came before you."
My gaze flicked over to where Kieran sat, a few rows behind me. His usual calm demeanor was in place, but his dark eyes held an intensity that I couldn't ignore. He sat with his arms folded, his fitted black blazer sharp against the light fabric of his shirt. There was something about him today—something different.
Professor Orlando continued, reading off the names of the contenders one by one. Each time a name was called, the hall erupted in polite applause, though the tension was clear. This wasn't just about applause or recognition—this was about who would rise to the top.
"And finally," Professor Orlando's voice boomed, "Seraphine Monte Riego and Kieran Salvatore—both representing Pleasant Hills Academy."
The applause was louder this time, and I could feel the eyes of the room on me. I kept my posture perfect, my expression composed, but inside, my thoughts were racing. Kieran. The Thornstones. My family's legacy. The pieces were all moving, but I couldn't yet see the full picture.
After the assembly, Leonara and I retreated to one of the academy's private study rooms, a space reserved for high-ranking students and faculty. The walls were lined with dark wood, and the large table in the center was piled with books, papers, and folders—everything we needed to prepare for the competition.
"First things first," Leonara said, opening her laptop and pulling up several documents. "We need to get ahead of the game. I've already compiled the profiles of all the other contenders, including their family backgrounds, academic records, and extracurricular activities." She tapped the screen, bringing up a dossier on Alec Thorn. "This guy, for example—his family's connections are extensive, and he's been groomed for leadership his whole life."
I nodded, scanning the information, but my mind kept drifting. Kieran had kept his distance since the announcement, but I couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at me in the assembly—like he knew something I didn't. Like he was waiting for something.
Later that evening, after Leonara left and the study room had emptied, I found myself alone in the quiet halls of the academy. The sun had set, casting long shadows across the marble floors. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something I was missing—something that was just out of reach.
I wandered through the halls, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The academy had always been a place of prestige and power, but now, it felt different. It felt like a place where secrets were hidden in plain sight, waiting to be uncovered.
As I passed by the faculty wing, a low voice caught my attention. I slowed my pace, recognizing the voice of Professor Orlando. He was speaking in hushed tones with someone—someone whose voice I couldn't quite make out. I moved closer, careful not to be seen.
"We can't afford to let this slip," Professor Orlando was saying. "The competition is about more than just prestige this year. There's more at stake than these students realize."
I leaned in, my heart racing. What was he talking about?
"The competition is about more than just winning," he said, his voice firm. "There are… forces at play here that these students don't fully understand. We need to ensure that certain things stay hidden."
A chill ran down my spine. What was he talking about? What forces? And what were they hiding?
I leaned closer to the door, straining to hear more, but the conversation ended abruptly. The door opened, and I barely had time to step back before Professor Orlando and another man—one I didn't recognize—stepped out.
They didn't see me, but I stood frozen in place as they walked away, their voices fading into the distance.
My mind was spinning. There was something more to this competition, something that went beyond strategy and leadership. And I needed to find out what it was—before it was too late.