Chapter 6 THE LIONS' DEN

POV SYLVIE

The Great Hall felt less like a university room and more like an execution chamber.

High ceilings, portraits of dead white men who probably owned half the world, and a long table of board members who looked like they hadn't smiled since the Cold War. I sat there in my emerald silk dress, my spine so straight it felt like it might snap, and Nathaniel's hand was still over mine. His skin was warm, a sharp contrast to the air conditioning that was currently blasting frostbite into the room.

Dean Higgins cleared his throat, the sound echoing like a gunshot.

"Miss Belrose," he began, not even looking at Nathaniel. "The evidence presented in those... digital forums... suggested a serious breach of the Student Code of Conduct. While a 'private engagement' is certainly a surprising development, it doesn't automatically erase the reputational damage to the Cavill-Belrose Grant."

I felt my jaw clench. I was ready to launch into a three-page legal defense, but Nathaniel beat me to it.

"The 'evidence' was a joke, Higgins," Nathaniel said, his voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous register he used when he was done playing nice. "It was a low-effort deepfake designed to target my fiancée. And frankly, the fact that this board spent more time investigating a victim of a cyber-attack than finding the culprit is embarrassing for Astoria’s prestige."

He said the word fiancée like it was a fact of nature, like the sun rising or the tuition being too high.

"We understand your... protective stance, Mr. Cavill," another board member, a woman with a bun so tight it was lifting her eyebrows, chimed in. "But we must be sure this isn't a convenient arrangement to bypass a scholarship suspension."

Arrangement. The word hung in the air like a bad smell.

I looked at her, my eyes narrowing. "It’s not an arrangement, Mrs. Gable. It’s a relationship that we chose to keep private because we wanted one part of our lives that didn't belong to a headline. I am the top student in my class. I have worked three jobs to be here. If you think I’d risk my entire future for a 'convenient' stunt, then you haven't been paying attention to my transcripts."

I leaned forward, the emerald silk rustling. "But if you’re looking for someone to blame for 'reputational damage,' look at the security protocols of your own student servers. That’s where the leak started. Maybe spend less time on my personal life and more time on your IT department."

Nathaniel let out a soft, almost imperceptible huff of amusement. He liked this. He liked watching me bite back.

The meeting lasted another forty minutes of grueling questions, but the "Cavill" name was a heavy shield. By the time we walked out of those oak doors, Higgins had practically apologized for "the misunderstanding." My scholarship was back. My future was safe.

But as the doors closed behind us, I realized I was still holding Nathaniel’s hand. And I didn't want to let go.

I pulled away quickly, the cold air of the hallway hitting my palm. "We did it," I whispered, the adrenaline finally starting to fade into a dull ache in my head.

"We did," Nathaniel said, but he didn't look happy. He looked... haunted.

He didn't wait for me. He started walking toward the West Wing, his strides long and urgent. I had to practically jog to keep up in my heels.

"Nathaniel? Hey, slow down! We won, didn't we? Why are you acting like we just lost a war?"

He stopped so suddenly I almost slammed into his back. We were in a secluded hallway, away from the reporters and the prying eyes of the student body. He turned around, and the expression on his face made my heart stop. He didn't look like the "Prince of Astoria" anymore. He looked like a kid who was about to break.

"You don't get it, Sylvie," he hissed, his eyes dark with a frustration I didn't understand. "Winning in there just means my grandfather owns me for another six months. Every time I play his game, every time I use his name to fix things, the leash gets tighter."

"You used it to save me," I said softly, stepping closer.

"I used it to save myself," he corrected, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. "I need that money. I need the trust fund so I can finally walk away from him. But god, I hate the smell of this place. I hate that those people only listened to you because I was sitting next to you."

He slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his expensive tuxedo trousers gathering dust. He looked messy. He looked human.

I sat down next to him, ignoring the fact that my emerald dress was definitely not meant for sitting on a hallway floor. "I hated it too," I admitted. "Knowing they only saw me as 'Cavill’s girl' instead of Sylvie Belrose. But Nathaniel... you were amazing in there. You didn't just use your name. You used your brain. You defended me when no one else would."

He looked at me, his grey eyes searching mine. The hallway was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the ventilation system. "Why are you being nice to me, Belrose? We’re rivals. You’re supposed to be gloating that I’m miserable."

"I only gloat when I beat you in an exam, Nathaniel. This? This isn't an exam. It’s real life. And real life is a lot harder than Constitutional Law."

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "I’m tired, Sylvie. I’m so damn tired of pretending."

I didn't think about it. I just reached out and rested my hand on his arm. Not for the cameras. Not for a contract. Just because he looked like he needed someone to acknowledge that he was more than a bank account.

"Then stop pretending," I whispered. "At least with me. You don't have to be the 'Heredero' when the doors are closed. You can just be the guy who thinks he’s better at Econ than he actually is."

Nathaniel let out a dry, raspy laugh, his eyes fluttering open. "I am better at Econ than you."

"In your dreams, Cavill."

The tension shifted then. It wasn't the cold, sharp tension of the boardroom. It was something warmer, thicker. He looked down at my hand on his arm, then back up at my face. His gaze lingered on my lips for a second too long, and my breath hitched in my throat.

He reached out, his thumb brushing against my jawline, tracing the line of my chin. His touch was hesitant, almost a question.

"Six months," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my bones. "How are we going to survive six months of this without actually killing each other?"

"Or without doing something even stupider?" I added, my heart racing.

He didn't answer. He just leaned in, and for a terrifying, wonderful second, I thought he was going to kiss me. For real. No cameras. No board members. Just us.

But then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A loud, intrusive vibration that broke the spell.

He pulled back, the mask of the "Golden Boy" sliding back into place so fast it made my head spin. He pulled out the phone, his face hardening as he read the screen.

"It’s my grandfather," he said, his voice flat. "He wants us at the estate for a 'celebratory' dinner. He’s already sent the car."

I stood up, brushing off my dress, feeling the cold weight of reality settling back over me. The moment was gone. The "real" Nathaniel was hidden behind the suit and the name again.

"Then let's go," I said, putting on my best fake smile. "I’m sure I can find something else to argue with him about. I hear he hates people who use the wrong salad fork."

Nathaniel stood up, adjusting his cuffs, his eyes unreadable. "Sylvie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For sitting on the floor with me."

I turned away so he wouldn't see the blush creeping up my neck. "Don't mention it, Cavill. I just didn't want you to be the only one looking like a mess."

As we walked toward the exit, I realized that the "fake" part of our engagement was becoming the hardest part to maintain. Because the more I saw of the boy behind the empire, the more I realized that my heart was in a lot more danger than my scholarship ever was.