I didn't really give the actual summary but here it is
*Summary:*
At *Valemont Academy*, power comes dressed in secrets and silk.
*Lysa Morgan*, a sharp-tongued tomboy with a dirty mind and a bruised past, never belonged to the world of elite bloodlines and designer masks. But when a mysterious scholarship drops her into the lion’s den, she finds herself circling something far more dangerous than privilege.
*Samuel Virelli* isn’t just the academy’s golden heir — he’s the shadow behind its walls. Possessive. Deadly. Seductive. A playboy with a dark empire at his feet and a deeper obsession in his eyes.
Lysa is warned to stay away.
Samuel doesn’t care.
And the line between love and obsession is already bleeding.
As secrets unravel, alliances shift, and bodies drop, Lysa must decide:
Will she survive his world…
Or rise to rule it?
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*Chapter 1 – The Devil Wears a Uniform*
The first thing Lysa noticed about Valemont Academy wasn’t the towering gates or the security cameras hiding in ivy.
It was how quiet everything was.
Too quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that whispered peace—but the kind that warned you *not to make a sound*.
She adjusted her oversized hoodie and slung her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, ignoring the way two girls in plaid skirts sneered as they passed. Hair perfect. Lip gloss sharp. Faces built to judge.
Lysa smirked. Let them.
This place may have been dripping in wealth and old money, but she hadn’t come here to impress anyone.
She came because someone — *somehow* — paid her full scholarship. And no one, not even the school counselor, knew who.
Just a signature: *S.V.*
She didn’t care. Free was free.
Until she saw *him.*
Leaning against a matte black Maserati, sleeves rolled up, cigarette smoldering between his fingers like it belonged there. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to show ink licking across his collarbone. And that smirk…
Like he knew all your secrets before you said a word.
“New girl,” he said lazily, eyes flicking over her hoodie, her combat boots, her stubborn chin. “You don’t look like the type this school breeds.”
Lysa tilted her head. “You don’t look like someone who cares.”
He laughed — a low, dangerous sound. “Touché.”
She turned to walk past him. He stepped in front of her.
“Name?” he asked.
“You first.”
“Samuel,” he said, the word thick with confidence. “But people here don’t call me that.”
“What do they call you?”
“Trouble.”
*Of course.*
Lysa rolled her eyes and moved again. He let her pass this time, but his voice followed.
“You don’t belong here, Lysa Morgan,” he said smoothly.
She froze.
She hadn’t told him her name.
“You’re just a shiny new toy. And this school?”
His voice dropped, silky and cold.
“It breaks toys.”
Lysa turned slowly.
He was already walking away, shoving his hands in his pockets like nothing had happened.
But her stomach was tight. Because for the first time since arriving, she realized something:
This place didn’t feel like a school.
It felt like a *setup.*
...----------------I hope u loved it----------------...
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Lysa’s first class was called *Literature of Power and Legacy*.
It already sounded like it needed a punch to the face.
She slipped in ten minutes late, still damp from the rain, hoodie clinging to her shoulders. The room was painfully silent—at least until whispers started curling behind hands.
She didn’t have to guess why.
Combat boots. No makeup. Wet hair.
She wasn’t born for schools like this—and she knew it.
“Miss Morgan,” the professor said without looking up. “You’ve made an entrance.”
She mumbled an apology and scanned the room. One seat left. Two rows from the back.
And directly in front of *him*.
Samuel sat like a storm in waiting. Uniform untucked. Tattoo peeking from his open collar. Arm draped over the chair next to him like he owned it—and everything around it.
Lysa walked past him without flinching. Sat down. Opened her notebook. Pretended he didn’t exist.
Then something fluttered onto her desk.
A folded piece of paper.
She opened it slowly.
**"Keep your head down.
Pretty girls bleed easy.
—S"**
She froze.
Every hair on her neck rose like it had been touched. Her jaw tightened. She turned slightly, eyes locking with his.
He didn’t wink.
He didn’t smirk.
He just stared.
Class blurred after that. The words the professor spoke fell apart in her ears. She tapped her pen, over and over. Her thoughts were racing but made no sense.
She felt his eyes on her the entire time.
When the bell finally rang, she stood too fast. Nearly knocked her chair over.
She turned the hallway corner—and slammed right into him.
Hard chest. Warm skin. Colder smile.
“Someone’s eager,” Samuel murmured.
Lysa stepped back. “Someone’s in my face.”
He didn’t move. His gaze was sharp, unreadable. “Funny. You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
“You think you scare me?” she asked.
“I *know* I do,” he said calmly.
For a moment, no one breathed. Then she pushed past him and kept walking. She didn’t stop until she reached her dorm.
But the tension didn’t stop with her.
On her bed was a black box. No tag. No message.
Inside: a single silk ribbon.
Deep red.
Coiled like a warning.
And beneath it, a photo.
Her.
Taken this morning.
She was walking toward class—alone.
But in the background, blurred but unmistakable, stood Samuel.
Watching.
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...----------------Hey 👋 sweeties here's chapter 3 I hope u like it💕----------------...
The cafeteria smelled like polished marble and expensive perfume—a far cry from the greasy diners Lysa was used to. She scanned the sea of pristine uniforms and flawless faces, her hoodie feeling heavier with every stare.
She grabbed a tray, snagged a slice of pizza, and headed toward a corner seat near the windows. The sunlight streamed in, but it didn’t warm her nerves.
As she took her first bite, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Lysa looked up to see a girl with honey-blonde curls, sharp eyes, and a confident smile. Her burgundy lipstick was perfectly applied, and her tailored blazer had just the right shimmer.
“Go ahead,” Lysa said, wary but curious.
“I’m Aria,” the girl introduced herself, sliding into the seat across from her. “You’re the scholarship girl, right? The one everyone’s been buzzing about?”
Lysa smirked. “Guess I’m a hot topic.”
Aria laughed softly. “You don’t have to pretend. We all see it—the way Samuel Virelli watches you.”
Lysa stiffened. “Samuel?”
Aria nodded. “The golden boy of Valemont. Billionaire heir, playboy, and a mystery wrapped in danger.”
Before Lysa could reply, the room’s atmosphere shifted.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the entrance as Samuel strolled in, his black turtleneck hugging a lean but powerful frame. He carried a coat casually over one shoulder, his gaze piercing the crowd like a blade.
Samuel didn’t need an entourage—he *was* the entourage. People parted before him as if by instinct.
Then, their eyes met.
He wasn’t smiling; the corners of his mouth twitched in something like amusement—possessive, dangerous.
He settled at a table directly across from Lysa, staring like he owned not just the room but her.
Aria leaned in closer. “You’re not just a curiosity to him. You’re a challenge.”
Lysa met his gaze and lifted her pizza slice. “Good. I don’t back down.”
Samuel’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
The bell rang, scattering students to their next classes. Lysa stood, grabbing her bag. Aria fell in step beside her.
“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Aria warned, voice low. “This school isn’t just about grades and parties. It’s about power, control... survival.”
Lysa smirked. “Then maybe I’m the wrong kind of survivor.”
Aria laughed, but it held no warmth. “Just remember—he doesn’t like to share.”
Later that night, Lysa returned to her dorm room, the quiet hallways a stark contrast to the chaos in her mind. She reached her door and froze.
Taped to the center was a Polaroid.
Her and Aria, sitting together in the cafeteria. The photo was taken without their knowledge—somewhere hidden, watching.
A scarlet X was slashed over Aria’s face.
Below it, scrawled in jagged black ink, were the words:
**“Choose wisely.
I don’t share.”**
—S
Lysa’s heart hammered. Someone was watching. Warning. Threatening.
She peeled the photo off the door, her fingers trembling.
Outside, the wind whispered through the cracked window, carrying a promise of danger.
And Lysa realized this was only the beginning.
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