HIS FAVORITE SIN!

Bigger wallets.

Rowan

“We are here.”

Mr. Kim’s voice—calm, formal, predictable—snapped me out of my head. I always zone out during the drive. It was easier that way. I didn’t have to pretend I cared.

And it made being driven to school slightly more tolerable.

“Thanks,” I murmured, already halfway out of the Mercedes.

But just as I was about to slam the door, he added, “Patriarch Rici is leaving today. He told me to remind you to come home early.”

I froze, my hand tightening on the door handle. The metal felt colder than it should. For a second, my mind blanked before rage began to simmer just beneath my skin.”I’m busy,” I said, sharp. Intentionally so.

Only one man insists on being called Patriarch. My grandfather. A control-obsessed tyrant in a custom-tailored suit. And last I checked, I still hated him. Why the hell would I go say goodbye? The old bastard isn’t sentimental. He just wanted to flex his grip one last time. Like he did with my spineless father. Like he tried with me. Too bad I’m not as bendable.

“Patriarch won’t accept that, young master,” Mr. Kim added.

“Enough with the young master crap. I’m only his grandson on paper, and trust me, even that wasn’t by choice. So don’t link me to him.”

Mr. Kim nodded like he always did. Calm. Controlled. Practiced.

“Alright. Rowan. Patriarch expects you. 7 PM sharp.”

And then he drove off. Didn’t even give me a chance to argue. Coward.

“Yo.”

Dane’s voice cut through my internal swearing.

“Dane.” I grunted.

“Grumpy as ever. Tough morning?”

“Tough life,” I muttered as we walked into the hallway. The word tough always reminded me of that old bastard Rici.

“Sup, babe,” Dane flirted with a group of girls, making them giggle like trained poodles.

Then he turned back to me. “Brace yourself. Naidoo called the student council in.”

“What?” I deadpanned. “The hell for? It’s too early for this. Tell her to book in advance like the damn rules say. We’re busy people.”

Dane shrugged. “Something about an emergency meeting. A s*x book for the school play, or something.”

I stopped.

“A what book?”

“A new book, something about it being used for the school play by the class of 2024. But hey, I can tell her we’re not—”

“Never mind.”

That got my attention.

By 7 AM, I was already in the boardroom listening to old-money fossils try to breathe moral fire over a book they didn’t understand.

“This is ridiculous! Our seniors cannot perform that kind of book!” Lesley snapped. Former HCA elite, still stuck in the golden age of corsets and relevance.

“I agree. It’s a stain on our prestige,” Coach Frederick added. Guy could barely jog across the gym but had no problem jogging his mouth.

They were attacking my favorite book. Midnight Siren —raw, weird, brilliant. It wasn’t porn. It was truth. But of course, they wouldn’t get that. They’ve built their lives around controlling what kids see, say, and feel.

“Oh, dolls, you’re exaggerating,” Madame Quinton chimed in, her thick accent practically wrapping around the word ‘art’ like velvet. “It’s a beautiful story—about awkward transitions, human experiences. s*x as an art.” Madame said, bold as always. She was the only teacher who didn’t kiss admin ass during interviews. She’d earned my respect the second she challenged the headmistress in a staff meeting.

Lesley rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d detach. “It’s porn in a candy wrapper.”

My jaw clenched. My fists curled. She had no idea what she was talking about. People like her never do. They just call anything uncomfortable “immoral” and hide behind shiny words.

“Enough,” Headmistress Naidoo finally said.

“Let’s hear from the student council. Again, sorry for the early call.”

Danielle leaned in, smiling the way only she could—genuine but also camera-ready. “It’s okay. The student council body will always avail itself for you.”

Naidoo practically giggled. Tch. I made the right call making Dani president. She was every adult’s wet dream of a perfect student. Pretty, polite, and pliable.

“Very well. Thoughts?”

Silence. The girls glanced at each other. Danielle stayed quiet—smart move. No one wanted to be first.

Dane looked at me. I closed my eyes and let the silence stretch.

That was my signal. I wasn’t going to do the talking. Not every time. Let them think for themselves for once.

“Well, it’s not a bad book,” some freckled girl mumbled. “But… HCA tradition favors something less obscure.”

“It sounds really cool,” Kristin added. “But it’s out of line with what we usually do.”

Typical. They wanted edge, but not consequence.

“See? Even the teenagers have the decency you lack, Ms. Quinton,” Lesley shot, triumphant.

“It’s Madame Quinton,” she corrected and deadpanned. “And don’t give me that crap. Look around. They’re teenagers. What, just because they’re heirs to old names and bigger wallets, they don’t get horny?”

The room went silent.

Dead. Silent.

Girls blushed. Boys froze.

I stayed unreadable.

Until I heard it. A snicker.

Anna Lindsey.

She snickered. In my presence. I turned slightly. Just enough for her to catch my stare. She bit her lip, trying to hide it—but it was too late.

Bold.

I would let it slide. For now.