The fallout from Martin's disgrace had sent shockwaves through Ravenwood University, and no one felt it more acutely than Rose. Overnight, she had gone from being admired as Martin's girlfriend to whispered about as the girl who had traded away a diamond for a rock.
Rose approached Arnold the day after the scandal broke, her demeanor hesitant but laced with hope. She found him in the university café, seated at a corner table with a tablet in hand, scanning through reports. His sharp attire and composed presence only heightened the air of authority he now exuded.
"Arnold," she began softly, sliding into the seat across from him without waiting for an invitation.
Arnold's eyes flicked up from his tablet, his expression unreadable. "Rose," he said flatly.
"I just wanted to talk," she said, her voice tinged with an apologetic note. "About... everything. I know I made mistakes—"
"Stop." Arnold's voice was calm, but the finality in his tone made her falter.
She tried again, her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... misjudged things. Maybe we could—"
"Rose," Arnold interrupted, setting down his tablet. His gaze was sharp, and his voice carried the weight of his transformation. "You didn't misjudge anything. You made a choice—a calculated choice. And now, you're living with the consequences. I'm not interested in your regrets or your apologies."
The coldness of his words left her stunned. Before she could respond, Arnold stood, gathering his things. He glanced at her one last time, his tone devoid of emotion.
"Some bridges can't be rebuilt, Rose. This is one of them."
As he walked away, students nearby, who had overheard the exchange, snickered quietly. Rose sat frozen in her seat, her face burning with humiliation.
Later that evening, Arnold stood on the balcony of his penthouse atop the Celestial Spire, the towering skyscraper that housed Sinclair Enterprises' global headquarters. The sprawling city stretched out before him, a sea of neon lights glittering like stars under the night sky. Cars raced along the streets below, and the energy of the metropolis seemed to hum in the air.
Arnold took a deep breath, savoring the view. This was his domain now, but it wasn't enough. His family's wealth and power were vast, yet he wanted to build something uniquely his own—something that would cement his reputation, not as Victor Sinclair's heir, but as Arnold Sinclair.
He pulled out his phone and made a call. After a few terse words, he ended the conversation and turned back to the interior of the penthouse.
Moments later, the doors opened, and two figures entered.
The first was Robert Blackwood, a middle-aged man with a muscular build and an air of quiet authority. A seasoned ex-military commander, Robert was a master of combat techniques, firearms, and survival skills. He had been handpicked by Victor Sinclair to head Arnold's personal security team, ensuring his protection from the shadows.
The second was Luna Vale, a stunning woman with sharp features and a keen intellect. Around Arnold's age, she had been chosen to serve as his personal assistant, asset manager, and mentor. Her role was to guide him through the treacherous waters of high-stakes business and power, where enemies lurked at every turn.
Robert was the first to speak, his voice steady and measured. "You called, sir?"
Arnold nodded. "I want both of you to be fully briefed on my plans. We're starting with Crownspire Horizon. There's a project that needs my attention."
Luna stepped forward, a tablet in hand. "I've already compiled the reports for your review, Mr. Sinclair. Crownspire Horizon's City Plaza Project was recently acquired but hasn't made much progress. Shall I bring up the details?"
Arnold gestured for her to proceed.
Seated at the penthouse's massive conference table, Arnold scanned the project details on Luna's tablet. The City Plaza Project had potential, but the designs were uninspired, and the timeline stretched far too long.
"Bring in our best architects," Arnold said. "I want a complete redesign. This project will be my signature mark."
The next morning, a team of renowned architects arrived at the penthouse. Arnold wasted no time diving into discussions, presenting his vision for a flower-inspired architectural design.
"The central core will be a park," Arnold explained, his tone decisive. "A fountain surrounded by a pond with wooden bridges, vibrant fish, and lotus flowers. A garden with rare, exquisite plants and gazebos for visitors. The petals of the flower will house high-class services—luxury shopping malls, fine-dining restaurants, theaters, art galleries, and even an opera house. It will be the city's crown jewel."
The architects exchanged glances, impressed by the clarity of his vision.
"And the timeline?" one of them asked cautiously.
"Ten months," Arnold replied.
The room fell silent.
"That's ambitious," one of the architects finally said.
"It's non-negotiable," Arnold countered. "Quadruple the manpower if you have to. This project will be completed on time."
By the end of the meeting, the team was fully on board, inspired by Arnold's determination and precise planning.
The next morning, news of the City Plaza Project dominated headlines. The ambitious design and accelerated timeline captured the city's attention, and social media buzzed with excitement.
When Arnold arrived at Ravenwood later that day, the buzz had reached the campus as well. Students crowded around their phones, discussing the project in hushed tones.
"That's insane! A park in the middle of a plaza?"
"Did you see the design? It looks like something out of a movie."
"Whoever's behind this must be loaded."
Arnold smiled to himself as he walked past the groups of awestruck students.
After his lecture, Arnold was stopped again by Rose, who was clearly desperate.
"Arnold, please," she began, her tone pleading. "I made a mistake. I see that now. Can we at least talk?"
Arnold's gaze was cold, his voice measured. "We already talked, Rose. There's nothing more to say."
"But—"
"Enough." Arnold's tone cut through her protests like a blade. "You chose someone else over me. Live with it."
He turned and walked away, leaving Rose standing alone in the classroom. The other students smirked at her, their whispers a mix of amusement and derision.
Arnold's next stop was the student council office. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a melodic voice. "Please, enter."
Inside, he found a long conference table, at the head of which sat June, the student council president. She was a strikingly beautiful senior, regarded as one of the three "campus divas."
June glanced up, her tone professional. "State your purpose."
Arnold didn't mince words. "I've noticed that the students in the fashion and art departments struggle to pursue their passions after graduation. Many abandon their dreams for stable jobs or work as freelancers, selling their work for far less than it's worth. I have a solution."
June leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."
"I'm starting a clothing brand and need talented designers. I want to prioritize students from this university during hiring. Additionally, I'm proposing a fashion contest to identify promising talent."
June raised an eyebrow. "A fashion contest? Do you have any idea how much such an event would cost?"
Arnold smiled faintly. "Money isn't an issue. I'm allocating two hundred grand for the contest and another fifty grand as prize money to encourage participation. I'm also funding an art-focused event with a budget of one hundred and fifty grand."
June was stunned. "You're offering four hundred grand... just like that?"
"Talent is priceless," Arnold replied simply.
June recovered quickly, nodding with newfound respect. "The student council would be honored to host these events. Your generosity will not go unnoticed."
Arnold rose, extending a hand. "Then we have a deal."
As June shook his hand, she couldn't help but think: This is no ordinary student.
Later that evening, Arnold stood once again on the balcony of the Celestial Spire, the city glittering below him. With each move, he was carving his path, proving himself not just as a Sinclair, but as a force of his own.
"This is just the beginning," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon.