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Nevan Hartley...

A rich and arrogant.

Self obsessed

Love only one thing.... 

That is himself (Nevan Hartley)

Celix Arden

A sweet and caring person

Loves painting

(In love with Nevan Hartley)

Chapter 1

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(Author’s POV)

The first rays of morning light slipped through the sheer curtains of Nevan’s massive bedroom. Everything inside was perfectly placed — white marble floors, designer furniture, and a king-sized bed where Nevan lay wrapped in silk sheets, like a prince resting in his palace.

A soft alarm melody played, and Nevan opened his eyes. There was the usual emptiness in them — the kind only a rich, lonely boy could understand. He sat up, ran a hand through his messy brown hair, and walked into the bathroom.

A while later, freshly showered and dressed, Nevan came downstairs. The breakfast table was already set — freshly squeezed orange juice, buttered croissants, scrambled eggs, and imported fruits. Everything looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

“Where are my mom and dad?” he asked casually, stirring the fruit with his spoon.

The maid bowed slightly and replied, “Sir and Madam left early this morning. They had to attend an important business meeting in another country.”

Nevan didn’t say anything. No surprise, no sadness. This was normal. He had long gotten used to silent breakfasts alone. Taking a bite, he picked up his phone, scrolled through a few notifications, and finished his meal without a word.

“Is the driver ready?” he asked, grabbing his bag.

“Yes, the car is waiting at the gate,” the maid responded.

Without another word, Nevan walked out of his mansion. Outside, his black luxury car was already waiting. The driver respectfully opened the door for him, and Nevan slipped into the back seat — sunglasses on, face set in his usual arrogant expression.

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As the car pulled into the school’s parking lot, Nevan leaned back, eyes half-closed, bored already. The gates of Saint Edric High stood tall and polished — a school where only the elite could afford to be mediocre.

The moment Nevan stepped out of the car, a few students turned to look. It wasn’t just because he was rich — it was the aura he carried. Confident. Untouchable. Dangerous in a way that made people want to be close but afraid to stay.

“Nevan!” a voice called.

It was Ray, his closest friend since middle school, followed by Kai and Eli, the usual crew. All of them wore the same smug expressions, the same branded clothes, and the same thirst for attention.

“Looking like you just walked out of a magazine again,” Kai smirked.

Nevan scoffed. “Can’t help it if I’m the standard.”

They walked together, laughing at some poor junior tripping on his shoelace, mocking a teacher’s outdated clothes, and tossing sarcastic comments like confetti. Nevan wasn’t the class clown — he was the ringmaster. Everyone either laughed with him… or quietly hated him.

After a few minutes of their usual nonsense, Nevan broke away from the group.

“Heading to my locker,” he muttered, waving a hand as he walked down the quieter hallway.

His locker sat near the end, right by the large windows that overlooked the sports field. As he unlocked it, something unexpected happened.

A folded piece of paper slipped out and landed at his feet.

Frowning, Nevan picked it up.

The paper was cream-colored, handwritten, no name, no decoration. Just clean, simple ink.

He unfolded it.

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