Sharon stepped into the classroom late, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. A few heads turned, but she ignored them, the practiced nonchalance in her stride making it clear she was in control. The uniform was flawless, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her hair pinned back with just enough volume to show she put effort into looking effortless. Sharon liked to look like the kind of girl who didn't have to try — when in reality, she had mastered the art of looking effortlessly perfect.
"Miss Okezie," the teacher's voice sliced through the quiet room. The class had been waiting for her, their eyes moving between her and the clock. "You're late."
Sharon turned slowly, offering a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Apologies, sir," she said, her voice calm and even. "I got lost."
A few people snickered, but no one dared speak up. The teacher nodded, clearly at a loss for how to handle her. "Take a seat."
She walked to the nearest empty desk — which just happened to be next to Damian Falade. His eyes followed her every move, and Sharon felt the weight of his gaze. He didn't speak, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between them.
Damian Falade didn't need to say anything. His air of superiority did the work for him. He wasn't just the son of a prominent politician; he carried the kind of power that made others bend without a word. And yet, Sharon felt no intimidation. It wasn't that she wasn't impressed — it was just that she'd seen this act before. The rich, the polished, the untouchable — they all had one thing in common: they expected everyone else to bow to them.
And she wasn't going to be anyone's subordinate.
---
The teacher started the day's lesson, droning on about the upcoming school projects. Sharon's mind wasn't on the lecture. She was scanning the room, observing her classmates, learning the dynamics without them even knowing.
"Group work," the teacher suddenly announced, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Pair up, everyone."
Sharon didn't hesitate. She met Damian's eyes across the room, and for a brief second, she saw the flicker of challenge in them. The unspoken rule in Crescent Grove was clear: the elites always got to choose first. But this time, Sharon wasn't waiting to be chosen.
Before anyone else could react, she stood up and walked straight over to his desk, her heels echoing sharply against the floor. She didn't wait for him to speak — didn't give him the chance to act like he was in charge.
"I'll work with you," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
Damian's eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were amused. He looked around the room, noting the disapproving stares of the other students, before turning back to her.
"Bold move, Sharon. But it seems the table is already full." He gestured to the other students seated near him.
Sharon raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure we can make space," she said, moving to sit next to him, ignoring the glances and murmurs that rippled through the room.
She wasn't just sitting there as his partner. She was declaring her place in this school, in his world. No one would ignore her.
Damian's lips parted to respond, but he stopped himself, sizing her up in a way that felt both calculating and intrigued. Sharon didn't look away. She didn't have to.
---
Class went on in the background, but Sharon's attention was on Damian. Every time he glanced at her, she caught it. He was studying her, trying to figure out why she was here, why she was different from the others who bowed to his presence.
At some point during the project discussion, he tried to take control. He slid a stack of papers in front of her, his fingers brushing against hers. "We'll work with these first. I'm assuming you can keep up?"
Sharon's smile was small, but her eyes were sharp. She didn't flinch at his touch. Instead, she met his gaze directly, not a trace of hesitation in her expression.
"Actually, I prefer to handle things my way." She reached for the papers, pushing them aside and pulling out her own notes. "This is how it's going to be. I lead, you follow."
A brief silence followed. Damian didn't respond at first. He was used to being in control. But for some reason, he seemed intrigued — or maybe just amused.
"You think you can just come in here and take over?" he asked quietly, his voice low, but there was a hint of challenge in it.
Sharon met his gaze without a flicker of doubt. "I don't think. I know."
---
Eli was watching from across the room. Sharon could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't look at him. She didn't need to. He had been quiet all morning, observing like he always did. But now, his gaze was heavier, more thoughtful. There was something in his eyes — something Sharon hadn't seen before, something that made her feel... uncomfortable, in a way.
But it didn't matter. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to survive.
---
After class, the students filtered out, chatting and laughing among themselves. Damian paused at the door, glancing back at Sharon.
"Impressive," he said, his tone dripping with mock admiration. "You're certainly not what I expected."
Sharon didn't reply immediately. She was already gathering her things, her focus on the next step in her plan. Damian's words meant nothing to her. She was the one who would rewrite the rules, not him.
But before she could leave, Damian's voice stopped her.
"Let's see if you can keep that confidence when the stakes are higher," he said, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer than necessary.
Sharon's lips curved into a smile as she turned toward the door.
"I don't lose," she said, her voice quiet but firm.