Mated to Four Heirs

Chapter eighteen

Someone stood up for…

I wasn't walking away.

With trembling fingers, I picked up the basketball again and returned to the starting line. My legs felt heavy, my palms stung from gripping the worn leather so tightly, and my heart refused to slow down. Even so, I lifted my chin and focused on the opposite end of the court.

Around me, the whispers gradually faded.

The laughter wasn't as loud anymore.

Some students who had laughed moments earlier now watched me in silence, while others exchanged uncertain glances. Even Rita's teammates seemed less comfortable than before.

Rita noticed it too.

She folded her arms and let out a slow, unimpressed breath before looking directly at me.

"So," she said coolly, a sarcastic smile touching her lips, "you've decided to embarrass yourself again."

A few students chuckled, but this time the laughter was weak.

I didn't answer. There was no point replying her.

I already knew there was nothing I could say that would change her mind. It was obvious she woke up this morning determined to make a fool out of me.

"Go on," Rita continued, gesturing impatiently with one hand. "Show everyone why Nightshade Academy lowered its standards."

Her words stung, yet I swallowed the hurt and bounced the ball again. The damaged basketball lurched to one side almost immediately.

I corrected it.

It bounced awkwardly again.

I corrected it again.

I stumbled, nearly losing my balance before managing to stay on my feet.

The court fell strangely quiet.

No one laughed. Of course, it was not because I had suddenly become good… but because everyone could see I wasn't giving up.

Or maybe they had realized that Rita was not being fair to me.

I took another step… then another.

Just as I reached the first cone, the ball slipped from my hand for the third time and rolled across the polished floor.

I stopped moving. For a brief second, the silence became almost unbearable.

Then Rita clapped slowly.

"Outstanding," she said, her voice dripping with mock praise as she shook her head. "I've never seen someone struggle so much with something so simple."

She looked around the court.

"Is this really the level of student we're admitting now?"

Several students lowered their eyes. No one answered.

Rita smiled to herself. Apparently satisfied, she turned back to me.

"If you can't complete a basic drill," she continued, taking a step closer, "perhaps you should reconsider whether you belong at Nightshade Academy."

I stared at the floor. My throat tightened.

Before I could respond, someone spoke…

"That's enough."

The voice was calm but firm. It cut cleanly through the silence.

Every head turned toward the bleachers.

A senior female student stepped forward from the group of spectators. She was taller than most of the girls around her, and although she wasn't smiling, there was no fear in her eyes as she walked onto the court.

She stopped a few metres away from Rita.

"That's enough," she repeated, meeting Rita's gaze without flinching.

Rita's expression hardened. "Excuse me?"

The senior folded her arms. "She's a first-year."

Her voice remained steady.

"It's obvious she's never played basketball before."

She glanced briefly at me before looking back at Rita.

"You're comparing a beginner to trained upperclassmen."

A murmur swept through the students.

Rita laughed once… it was short and humourless.

"And?"

"And it's unfair."

The senior didn't raise her voice.

"If this is supposed to be training, then teach her, Rita."

She paused.

"Don't humiliate her," she continued.

Several students nodded almost instinctively.

One whispered, "She's right."

Another quietly agreed.

Rita noticed, her jaw tightening.

"As Athletics Captain," Rita replied, lifting her chin proudly, "I decide how training is conducted."

The senior didn't move.

"And leadership isn't measured by how easily you embarrass someone."

The words landed heavily across the court.

Rita's friends immediately stepped forward.

"Watch your mouth," one of them snapped, glaring at the senior.

"Our captain doesn't need lessons from you."

The senior remained completely composed. "I'm not giving lessons."

She shrugged lightly.

"I'm reminding her what leadership looks like."

Rita's face darkened.

"So now you're questioning my authority?"

"I'm questioning your fairness."

The two girls stared at each other. Neither looked away. The tension between them spread through the court until even the air seemed too heavy to breathe.

Finally, Rita spoke again.

"You all seem to have forgotten something."

She slowly turned, allowing her gaze to sweep over every student watching.

"This Academy rewards strength."

Her eyes settled on me.

"If Samantha Carter wants to remain at Nightshade Academy..."

She pointed toward the basketball lying near my feet.

"...then she'll prove she deserves to be here."

No one answered.

For the first time that morning, not even Rita's closest friends seemed eager to support what had happened.

Rita noticed the silence.

She looked around once more before letting out an irritated breath.

"Training is over," she announced sharply.

Without another word, she spun on her heel.

"Let's go."

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances before hurrying after her, and together they disappeared through the gymnasium doors.

The heavy silence they left behind somehow felt even louder than the argument.

I remained standing where I was. My fingers loosened around the basketball until it slipped from my hands and rolled gently across the floor.

Only then did I realize how badly they were shaking. Soft footsteps approached.

I looked up.

The senior girl who had defended me stopped a short distance away. Her expression had softened, and the determination that had filled her eyes during the argument was replaced with quiet concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, searching my face.

I opened my mouth to answer.

So many emotions fought for space inside me that I couldn't tell which one was winning… embarrassment… relief… confusion… exhaustion.

I swallowed hard.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung between us.

“Do you think I'll be alright?,” I asked her, still shaking.

She looked at me, unsure what to say.

“What's your name?,” she asked.

“Samantha Carter.”