The morning sun spilled into my room like it belonged there.
Everything in this house seemed to shine too brightly—as if even the light had been filtered and approved. I woke up groggy, with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing where I was. It took a moment to remember.
New city.
New house.
New last name, almost.
And him.
Adrian.
His name alone pulled heat to my cheeks. I hated how easily my mind returned to him, as if he'd left some mark I couldn't shake. He was barely even present last night, yet every word he spoke—every look—clung to me.
I got up slowly, stretched, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft grey top. Nothing too much. I had no clue what the dress code was at Redwood Hills, but I wasn't about to show up looking like I was trying to impress anyone. Especially not him.
Downstairs, the kitchen looked like something off a magazine cover—sleek, cold marble, endless white cabinets, chrome appliances I was too intimidated to touch. A maid greeted me with a polite smile and a soft, "Good morning, Miss Claire," before offering me a spread that included croissants, fresh berries, eggs, and three types of juice.
I blinked. "Um… just toast. And coffee, please?"
She nodded without question. I sat quietly at the edge of the massive island, feeling more like a guest in a five-star hotel than a girl having breakfast in her own home.
Adrian walked in five minutes later.
Of course, he didn't just walk in. He moved like the room had been waiting for him.
Plain black shirt. Black jeans. Slightly damp hair. No effort—and yet everything about him looked like it belonged in slow motion.
He didn't say good morning. Just poured himself a black coffee, leaned on the opposite side of the island, and glanced at me.
"Ready for your first day?"
I swallowed a bite of toast, pretending not to notice how my stomach flipped at his voice. "As ready as I can be. I don't even know where my classes are yet."
He sipped his coffee. "I'll show you around."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I muttered.
He smirked. "You should be."
I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. That made it worse.
We rode to school in silence. Adrian drove one of the family's black Audis like he'd done it a thousand times, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between us. I kept my eyes on the window, counting palm trees just to keep from fidgeting.
The Redwood Hills campus was stunning.
It looked like someone had merged a luxury resort with a film set—open courtyards, tall glass buildings, spotless walkways, and students who all looked like they'd been styled by professionals. I felt painfully out of place.
Adrian parked in a reserved spot right up front—of course—and stepped out without waiting for me. I climbed out and tried not to trip over my own nerves.
He led me through the gates like he owned the place.
"This is the main hall," he said as we passed a sleek, glass-paneled building. "Your first class is on the second floor, room 207. You've got Psychology with Professor Allen. Don't sit in the front row—he spits when he talks."
I raised a brow. "How do you know my schedule?"
"I asked Sara to print it last night."
I blinked. "You did that for me?"
His lips quirked slightly. "Don't read into it. You're just new. And I'm supposed to keep you alive."
We passed groups of students—some laughing, some staring at Adrian, and some, unfortunately, now staring at me. I recognized a few of the stares from social media. Some of these people had probably seen our "family" photo announcement on tabloids or online gossip blogs.
I didn't belong here, and everyone knew it.
A tall brunette waved at Adrian from across the quad, wearing a tank top that looked like it had been sewn onto her body. "Hey, Ash!" she called, voice sugary-sweet. "You're actually on time?"
Adrian lifted a lazy hand in acknowledgment but didn't stop walking.
"She seems nice," I muttered.
"She's not."
He looked over at me then, a long, assessing glance that made my heart skip before he said, "Don't get too close to anyone here until you know who they are underneath."
"And how am I supposed to know that?"
He stopped in front of my building. "You'll learn. This place teaches you fast."
Before I could respond, the bell rang. He nodded toward the doors.
"Don't be late, Claire."
And just like that—he was gone.
I walked into the building with my heart thudding in my chest.
Room 207 was halfway down the hall. The lights were too bright, the floors too clean. I kept my head down as I stepped into class, already feeling eyes on me. Whispers trailed behind like static.
"Is that her?"
"The new Ashford girl?"
"She's the one from that mansion photo, right?"
I took an empty seat near the back, pretending not to hear. I didn't know how to hold my shoulders, where to look. It was like I'd been dropped into a different universe where everyone else got the script in advance.
The professor came in five minutes late and didn't even apologize. Typical. He dove straight into a lecture about behavioral conditioning, and for a while, I got lost in my notes—grateful for something that didn't involve being stared at.
But it didn't last long.
"Claire Ashford, right?" a voice whispered next to me.
I turned to see a girl with curly blonde hair and too-white teeth grinning at me.
"I'm Naomi," she said, eyes sharp with curiosity. "I follow your stepbrother. I mean—not in a creepy way, like online. He doesn't usually hang out with people here."
I forced a smile. "Yeah, I've noticed."
She leaned in. "You're lucky. He's gorgeous. And… well, you live with him. So if you ever need someone to talk to about how unfair that is, I'm available."
I gave her a polite nod. She turned back to her notes, but I felt her eyes flick back toward me every few seconds. I could already tell: Naomi wasn't talking to me because she wanted to be friends. She was talking to me because I was a new source of information. A link to Adrian.
And I hated that.
By lunch, I was drained.
The cafeteria was massive—more like a restaurant. I grabbed a sandwich I didn't want and sat at an empty table near the edge, hoping I'd blend in. But Redwood Hills wasn't the kind of place that let you hide.
A group of girls passed by, their conversation not even trying to be subtle.
"That's her."
"She doesn't look like the usual Ashford crowd."
"I heard she's not even blood-related."
"Doesn't mean anything."
I clenched my fists under the table, nails digging into my palms. My appetite vanished. I wasn't used to being talked about like this. Back home, I had friends. I had people who knew me for who I was—not for who my mom married.
Here, I was a character in someone else's drama. And I didn't know my lines.
I left the cafeteria early and wandered the back side of campus until I found a small courtyard with a fountain. It was quiet, mostly empty, shaded by trees that actually smelled like nature.
I sat on the edge of the fountain and pulled out my phone, scrolling through old photos—me, Jas, and Dani at the lake last summer. My dad's picture from his old hiking trip. My sketches, half-finished and raw.
A lump formed in my throat.
I missed home.
I missed being me.
And just when I was about to lose it completely—I heard footsteps.
I didn't have to look up. I already knew.
"Skipping lunch?" Adrian asked, his voice as calm as always.
"I wasn't hungry," I said without turning around.
He didn't speak right away. Then, "You're not going to last here if you let them get to you."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I said, sharper than I meant.
He walked around the fountain and leaned against the stone edge beside me, folding his arms.
"You think I don't know what it's like?" he said after a beat.
I finally looked up at him. "Please. You're Adrian Ashford. You walk into a room and people adjust themselves."
His lips twitched. "And you think that's a good thing?"
"I think it must be nice not to be invisible."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at me, really looked at me, and his voice dropped just enough to make my skin prickle.
"You're not invisible, Claire. Not even close."
Something passed between us then—something unspoken, but thick in the air. His eyes lingered on mine a moment too long before he stood up and stepped away.
"Come on," he said. "You're not ditching your last two classes on your first day."
I followed him, even though part of me wanted to stay hidden a little longer. Because truthfully—I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore.
And even though I'd never admit it…
Being near him made the silence a little easier to bear.
The ride home was quieter than the morning.
Adrian drove with one hand, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight like he was grinding thoughts between his teeth. I glanced at him once—okay, twice—but he didn't speak until we were halfway down Mulholland.
"You don't have to wear things like that at Redwood."
I blinked, looking down at my outfit. "What's wrong with it?"
He shrugged, not even glancing my way. "Nothing's wrong. It's just… honest."
"Honest?" I echoed.
"Yeah. It says, I'm trying not to be noticed, but I don't want to disappear."
I stared at him, equal parts annoyed and embarrassed. "Are you judging my fashion sense now?"
"I'm just saying," he said coolly, "if you're walking into a lion's den, maybe don't dress like prey."
"I didn't realize I needed armor."
He finally looked over, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You do. Trust me."
Silence settled again, but it wasn't empty. It buzzed with the kind of tension that builds between two people who aren't saying everything they're thinking.
When we pulled into the driveway, I grabbed my bag and started toward the house, but his voice stopped me.
"Come on. We're going out."
I turned slowly. "Out?"
"You need clothes that speak Redwood," he said, unlocking the car again. "You'll blend in faster."
I frowned. "So you're taking me shopping?"
"You can thank me later," he said, sliding back into the driver's seat.
I hesitated. This was weird. Very weird.
But a part of me—maybe the reckless, newly eighteen part—was curious. About the stores. About the change. About him.
So I got back in.
We ended up on Melrose, because of course we did.
Trendy boutiques. Designer windows. Places where people didn't just shop—they made statements. Adrian moved through the stores like he'd done this a million times, nodding at clerks who clearly recognized him.
"Try these," he said, tossing a pair of black jeans and a cropped blazer toward me like it was no big deal.
"You do realize this isn't Clueless, right? You're not Cher."
He smirked. "Maybe I'm Christian."
"Even worse."
Still, I took the clothes and stepped into the fitting room. I hated to admit it—but the outfit looked good. The blazer fit like it was tailored for me. The jeans hugged my hips just right. When I stepped out, I saw something unfamiliar in the mirror.
Confidence.
Adrian looked up from his phone and gave a small, satisfied nod. "Better."
"Now I look like I belong?"
"You look like you don't care if you do," he said. "And that's more important."
There was a beat where our eyes met. His gaze didn't move. It didn't scan me like the guys at school. It stayed locked on mine.
And it made my stomach twist in the most confusing way.
We left with three bags and more tension than we came in with.
Back at the mansion, the sky was starting to turn gold behind the hills. I stood in my room, hanging up my new clothes, wondering what tomorrow would bring. I didn't know who I was becoming in this place—but I knew she was different.
More guarded.
More curious.
More drawn to the wrong things.
And maybe… just maybe…
More drawn to him
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