I refuse to love you again

Chapter 3: second place

The central library of St. Jude College smelled of damp wool, old leather bindings, and expensive floor wax. High arched stained-glass windows cast long, dramatic shadows across rows of heavy oak tables, while outside, the rain beat a steady rhythm against the glass.

Seraphina bypassed the cozy reading nooks where students were huddled over laptops and walked straight toward the quiet alcove near the back.

That was where the Bloomberg terminal sat—a dark, dual-monitor setup tucked away from the main study lanes.

Right next to that alcove, sitting at the long center table, was David Carter. Seraphina slowed her pace just enough to take him in.

At twenty-two, David looked almost impossibly sharp. He wore a crisp, tailored charcoal dress shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows, revealing lean forearms and a silver watch that cost more than a small house. A stack of corporate law textbooks and financial reports surrounded his open laptop.

In her past life, seeing him like this—focused, cold, and entirely out of reach—would have made her heart race. She had been so eager to please him back then that she had tripped over her own feet, spilled a venti iced coffee right across his lap, and spent twenty minutes stammering out apologies while he wiped his trousers with a look of quiet irritation.

Now, looking at him, Seraphina felt nothing. No flutter in her chest. No desperate urge to be noticed. He was just a twenty-two-year-old college student who thought he had the world figured out.

She pulled out the leather chair at the Bloomberg terminal, her tote bag thumping heavily onto the wooden desk. The sound echoed in the quiet alcove.

David didn't look up immediately, but his pen paused mid-sentence.

Seraphina logged into the terminal, her fingers flying across the specialized mechanical keyboard. The orange-and-yellow numbers of the financial market data reflected in her dark eyes.

She opened the order window for **NexaTech Inc.**Right now, NexaTech was the darling of the tech market. Its stock was trading at $42 a share

ahead of its hyped public offering next month. Wall Street analysts were calling it the next big

thing.

Seraphina knew better. On November 12th, a whistle-blower report would reveal that

NexaTech’s core software was entirely falsified. The stock would plunge to fifty cents in under

twenty minutes.

She pulled up her newly opened personal brokerage account, loaded her entire liquid savings—

a modest $2,500 left to her from her late grandmother’s estate—and set up a high-leverage

short position against NexaTech.

"You're shorting NexaTech?"

A voice broke the silence. Low, smooth, and laced with a hint of quiet authority.

Seraphina didn't jump. She finished typing her order confirmation, hit execution, and only then

slowly turned her head.

David was leaning back in his leather chair, his dark eyes fixed on her dual monitors. He held a

silver fountain pen between his long fingers, tapping it lightly against his desk.

"That's a quick way to lose twenty-five hundred dollars," David said, his tone detached, like a

professor pointing out a basic error to a child. "NexaTech’s quarterly revenues are up forty

percent. Their enterprise software contract with global logistics is set to close next week."

Seraphina met his gaze directly.

It was the first time she had looked into his eyes in this life. No exhaustion. No distant coldness

masked as duty. Just the arrogance of a young billionaire heir who had never been proven

wrong.

She didn't blush. She didn't fluster. She gave him a small, dry smile.

"Paper revenue," Seraphina said, her voice smooth and completely unbothered. "Their software

relies on an outdated architecture. They’ve been capitalizing their operational costs to inflate

margins before the IPO."

David’s hand stilled on his pen. His dark eyebrows pulled together ever so slightly—a micro-

expression of surprise that lasted less than a second.

"That's a heavy accusation for a freshman," David noted, his eyes narrowing as he took in her

face. He glanced at her student ID badge clipped to her tote bag. "*Seraphina Vance.*""And you're making a heavy assumption for someone who doesn't check cash flow statements,"

Seraphina countered smoothly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Mr. Carter."

David’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, but a sharp flicker of interest. "You know who I am."

"Hard not to," she said, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Your name was right

under mine on the Macroeconomics board this morning."

A beat of dead silence stretched between them.

Behind David, two upperclassmen who had been studying nearby suddenly looked up from their

books, their eyes wide. Nobody talked to David Carter like that.

David didn't get angry. Instead, his gaze sharpened, tracking her every movement like a

grandmaster analyzing an unexpected opening move on a chessboard.

"The curve on that test was poorly constructed," David said calmly, though the edge in his voice

was clear. "Question fourteen relied on a flawed premise regarding interest rate swaps."

"Question fourteen was fine," Seraphina replied, turning her attention back to her screens and

pulling up a second chart. "You just relied on the textbook definition instead of real-market

volatility. Books are neat. Markets aren't."

David stared at her profile.

In his entire life, people fell into two categories: those who wanted something from his family,

and those who were intimidated by him. Girls at St. Jude either giggled when he walked by or

tried to invent reasons to ask for his help with coursework.

This girl looked at him like he was a minor inconvenience standing between her and a cup of

coffee.

Before David could respond, the library’s glass doors swung open.

Evelyn walked into the quiet room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She was holding a

covered thermal tumbler and looking around with that characteristic, fragile grace.

The moment Evelyn spotted David, her face lit up with a gentle, needy smile. But as she drew

closer and noticed Seraphina sitting less than three feet away from David’s table, her footsteps

slowed.

Evelyn's eyes flicked between David's attentive posture and Seraphina’s complete indifference.

A tiny, almost invisible tension tightened the corner of Evelyn's mouth."David," Evelyn murmured softly, stepping right up to his table and setting the tumbler down

next to his laptop. "I brought you your chamomile tea. You looked so tired when you left the

house this morning."

"Thanks, Evelyn," David said, though his eyes didn't leave Seraphina for another two seconds

before he finally looked up at his sister. "You shouldn't have walked over here in the rain. Your

lungs—"

"I brought an umbrella," Evelyn interrupted sweetly, her voice dropping into that breathless,

delicate register. She turned her gaze to Seraphina, putting on her warmest, most innocent

smile. "Oh, hello. I don't think we've met. I'm Evelyn—David's sister."

She held out a small, pale hand, watching Seraphina with a gaze that was far too sharp for the

soft smile on her lips.

Seraphina looked down at Evelyn’s hand, then raised her eyes to meet Evelyn’s.

In her past life, Seraphina had taken that hand, smiled warmly, and spent six years letting

Evelyn play her like a fiddle.

Seraphina didn't reach out.

"I know who you are," Seraphina said, her voice pleasant but utterly distant. She grabbed her

tote bag, slid her notebook inside, and stood up. "Excuse me. The air in this corner is getting a

little cramped."

Evelyn’s hand hung in the air for a excruciating second before she slowly let it fall back to her

side, her delicate smile freezing in place.

David stood up from his chair, his tall frame blocking the light from the stained-glass window.

"Seraphina."

Seraphina paused, her hand resting on the back of her chair. She looked back over her

shoulder, her dark eyes completely unreadable. "Yes, Mr. Carter?"

David looked at her—really looked at her—searching her face for a trace of anger, flattery, or

posturing. He found nothing. Only an ancient, freezing coldness that felt utterly out of place on

an eighteen-year-old’s face.

"If NexaTech doesn't collapse by November 12th," David said, his voice quiet, "you'll be wiped

out."

Seraphina smiled. It wasn't a sweet smile. It was sharp, confident, and blinding."Then you'd better keep an eye on the ticker, David," she said softly. "You might learn something."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the library alcove, her sneakers echoing against the floorboards, leaving David standing in silence and Evelyn staring after her with a cold, terrifying stillness in her eyes.