EPISODE9:- THE GIRL WITH THE BODYGUARD
587 Words
The first week of the new term began like any other until the whispers started:
“A Beaumont enrolled here.”
“Her father owns half the banks in the city.”
“She has her own driver, her own security!”
By the time Layla Beaumont walked into the lecture hall, silence swept through the room like wind through tall grass.
She was striking—polished shoes, crisp uniform, a single diamond pin at her collar—and behind her stood a broad-shouldered man in black, earpiece coiled around his neck. Her bodyguard.
Even the professor hesitated before greeting her.
Layla didn’t smile. She simply scanned the seats until she found one near the front and sat down.
The air changed; no one wanted to breathe too loudly.
Leo entered late, still catching his breath from running across campus. He clutched his notebook and looked for a spare seat. The only one left was in the row behind Layla.
As he squeezed past, his elbow brushed her desk, tipping her pen onto the floor.
He bent quickly to pick it up.
“Don’t touch that!” she snapped.
The room froze. Every head turned.
Leo straightened, the pen still in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Do you know who I am?” Her voice cut through the lecture hall like glass.
Her bodyguard stepped forward instantly, posture stiff, waiting for her command.
Leo set the pen back on her desk. “It was an accident. I’m not trying to start anything.”
Layla’s eyes flashed. “Watch where you walk next time. You don’t just bump into me.”
From the back of the room, Isabella Monroe folded her arms, smiling faintly.
“Careful, Beaumont,” she called. “That’s our resident janitor. He breaks more than he fixes.”
A few students laughed nervously.
The professor hurried in just then, sensing the tension.
“Everyone, please—let’s begin. Mr. Vale, could you help Mr. Grayson find another seat?”
Sebastian Vale shot Leo a sympathetic look and guided him to the opposite row. The class settled, but the unease lingered.
When the lecture ended, Leo packed his books quietly.
Layla didn’t look at him again, but her bodyguard’s watchful stare followed him until he left the room.
Outside in the corridor, Isabella’s laughter drifted after him.
Sebastian caught up. “You okay?”
Leo exhaled. “Fine. Just another reminder that money makes people forget manners.”
Sebastian shook his head. “And that you have a talent for meeting the wrong kind of rich.”
Leo managed a half-smile. “Maybe that’s what I’m here to learn from.”
As they walked away, Layla watched from the doorway, her expression unreadable. For a moment, guilt flickered in her eyes—then vanished behind the cool mask of the Beaumont name.
Outside, the afternoon sun glazed the marble courtyard in gold. Students drifted past in polished uniforms, laughter ringing against the stone walls. Leo slowed his pace, the weight of the conversation pressing on him.
Sebastian nudged him. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Leo muttered. “Just realizing this place isn’t a school—it’s a stage.”
“Then play your part,” Sebastian said, grinning. “Just don’t let them write your script.”
Layla stepped out a moment later, watching him from across the courtyard. Her lips parted as if to call his name—but pride, that old Beaumont curse, silenced her.
- Writer
