The Arrogant Prince Who Stole My Heart

Chapter Three - War, On

Michaela asked incredulously, “So, that hot jock prince—I mean that rude jackass offered you a deal?”

“I declined,” I replied, unregretful.

“Good luck, girl! He won't let you off easily. He's notorious, remember?” Michaela cautioned.

“Anyways, is it true he has heterochromia and that he smells like a goddamn baby?” she queried. Honestly speaking, his scent is in fact addicting, so is his beautiful sparkling eyes. But who cares?

I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but his scent isn't remarkable nor does his eyes.”

Michaela teased, “Boo, boring.”

Upon entering class, I was relieved to see you, given our shared Scientific Research elective. However, the surprise was palpable upon spotting Henri and his entourage, typically enrolled in Business and Entrepreneurship, as what a typical héritier would do.

"Ms. Fournier, why are these individuals present?" I asked, referencing the unexpected attendees.

Ms. Fournier explained, "To have their suspension notices lifted, the headmaster assigned them to assist my research students with today's findings."

I scoffed, skeptical of their potential contribution and worried about the impact on our project's success. They'll be surely lacking and will only denigrate us.

“Now, chop-chop, mes chéris!” (My dears!) I arranged my laboratory apparatus and carefully placed the testing subject on the table. Henri then approached me, looking at me intently. "If this is about the last time, sorry, but no." I clearly stated.

“Woah. Woah. Chill, no arguments here, relax." Henri unexpectedly ruffled my hair and swiftly departed. He and his friends burst into laughter. Perplexed, I asked, "What's amusing them?"

Michaela chimed in, "Your hair!"

Upon inspecting, I discovered a bubblegum stick lodged in my locks. Damn, this asshole. When I get you, Henri!

I glared at Henri with intense hostility. Ms. Fournier intervened, carefully removing the gum from my hair. “Hilda, get me some ice!” She ordered.

Meanwhile, Henri with his friends mocked my struggle, which eventually fueled my anger beyond limits. I rummaged through my bag and seized scissors, startling everyone.

"Don't tell me she's cutting her hair?" his friends snickered. What made the assholes think I'm doing that?

I approached Henri, stunning my peers and Ms. Fournier. With swift precision, I cut his bangs, rendering them asymmetrical. His eyes can't even blink out of disbelief. He must have thought I'll not retaliate. No, Henri, wrong girl. Wrong f*****g girl

Henri seethed, "You'll pay for this! I'll make your life hell!"

I taunted, sticking out my tongue, "Sure, sure, you will.”

Michaela's eyes widened. "Aren't you scared? Henri might really do it."

I shrugged, collecting my lunch. "Like I care."

We settled into the cafeteria's coziest corner, but our tranquility was short-lived as patrons began pelting us with food, ruining our clothes in the process.

On the other hand, I saw Henri from afar, grinning mischievously, he was waving at me. It seems he managed to fix his ugly hair. I scoffed, "Pathetic jerk." We swiftly exited the cafeteria.

After the cafeteria incident, Michaela and I utilized the school clinic's spare clothing to change and continue our day. Following classes, we proceeded to our sorority club meeting. As president, my primary responsibility involves organizing high-profile events.

Notably, my humble financial background often sparks curiosity regarding my leadership position. However, within our institution, academic merit and professorial endorsement carry significant weight, ultimately outweighing socioeconomic status.

"Fellow members, our research indicates that the school's medieval-themed parties, traditionally favored by parents, have become stale. To revitalize this concept, I propose exploring 15th-century fashion, characterized by distinctive elements such as for women; gowns with slashed sleeves, hennin headdresses and cotehardies. Meanwhile, for men, we'll have doublets, hose and cloaks. This era's attire offers versatility, as many pieces transcend traditional gender boundaries, providing a refreshing contrast to contemporary gender distinctions.” I suggested. Most of them half-heartedly agree and some don't want to make a change.

“As much as I like your idea, the concept is too hard to execute.” Helia mentioned.

“That's the particular point of the sorority club; to accept challenges.” I retorted with a diffusing warmth on my face.

“Yet challenges are bound to have limitations. For it to be considered as a challenge, it needs to be possible.” She argued with a smile painted on her lips.

“However, the largest party for his Royal Highness was still executed perfectly in this school, right?” Her smile faltered.

“That's the past seniors, not us.” She continued.

“Do you believe in your capability?” I simply asked.

“I do, but—” Just as she was about to speak, I cut her off.

“So you do, we'll just manage fine.” I discreetly tapped her shoulder.

“So any suggestions?” None of them speaked. “It seems everyone agrees.”

“I highly disagree.” The voice of a man echoed from the door, it was Henri.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Laurent. But as far as I remember, you're not part of the Sorority. The next building is the Fraternity club, you seem lost.” I kept myself intact as I forced myself to wield a fake smile.

“I may not be part of the Sorority. But I'm the biggest sponsor of this club. So I believe my opinion matters.” He protruded a wide grin that made me let out an exasperated sigh.

“Of course, yes you may.” I kept my composure as I fidgeted at the table's corner.

“The concept is undeniably astounding; however, parties are made to celebrate luxury. Don't you agree?” He paused as he slowly made his point.

“For a party to pique the attention of several rich figures, it needs to scream luxury and royalty.” Although his statement has a point, he's still unbelievable.

“I beg to disagree as our job is to mainly provide the essence of the party.” My left eyebrow arched upward.

“Essence and all. But at the end of the day, people are only interested in money.” A sly smiled spread across his face.

“That’s quite a shallow worldview. Luckily, others see beyond bank account.” I emitted a dismissive snort, now agitated.

“Coming from an invisible person who had no money. Nobody's interested in you, you can die and no one will even care!” His voice escalated to a firm rebuke.

“Yeah, perhaps. But at least people appreciates me for who I am not my financial status. People have diverse interests, reducing it to money is narrowminded.” My voice also rose in emphasis.

“Isn’t that the reason why you're such a stuck up? Because nobody cares and no one will.” A mocking laughed escaped him.

“That's all you can do? This purely shows how insecure you are. You acts tough but you're empty, you're nothing inside. You're nothing but a rotten s**t who only relies with his family's name and wealth. That's what you are, Henri! You are nothing without your money!” I felt a sudden surge of self-awareness as my remarks were abrupt and irrational. People also looked at my way with disappointment.

I watched how his piercing stare seemed to unravel my soul. I was truly in wrong and he departed with a visibly displeased expression, and before he did he uttered “You want war? Let's go on war.”