Her Favourite Target

The marble concourse of Meridian University smelled like cheap ambition and heavy rain. ​Through the four-story glass facade overlooking the corporate district, the sky was dark gray. Below, hundreds of students drifted between lectures in tailored cashmere and designer leather, walking with the posture of heirs who had never heard the word no. ​I watched them from the second-floor mezzanine, leaning against the cold glass railing with my hands tucked into the pockets of my charcoal coat. ​My security detail maintained their standard six-foot buffer behind me. ​"The board meeting is set for three, Miss Montgomery," Marcus, my lead officer, reported softly. "Your father has already requested the revised equity projections for Vance Capital." ​"Let him request," I said without looking back. "He can wait." ​My focus wasn't on my father or the board. My gaze was locked on the far corner of the concourse, right by the north gallery alcove. ​Leo Daniels was there again. ​He was nineteen, lean, and wore a canvas jacket that had seen too many winters. His head was down, dark hair falling into his eyes as he clutched a frayed portfolio bag against his ribs. ​He moved like a ghost—quiet, hyper-aware, stepping close to the shadows of the marble pillars to avoid making eye contact with anyone. ​He was a Fine Arts student on a full academic scholarship. An absolute outsider in a playground for billionaires. ​For three weeks, I had been watching him. ​I knew his class schedule. I knew he took the 6:00 AM subway from the lower district. I knew his mother worked double shifts at a laundry line to keep their family home out of foreclosure. ​In a world filled with spineless corporate elite, Leo was raw, unfiltered talent. His graphite studies of the campus architecture were brilliant—precise, sharp, and fiercely disciplined. ​He didn't belong to this predatory environment. And more importantly, he was the only person on this campus who didn't look at me with calculating greed. ​A heavy commotion near the north wing broke the ambient quiet. ​Julian Vance strutted down the hall, flanked by two varsity offensive linemen. Julian wore his customized Vance Capital varsity jacket, walking with the obnoxious arrogance of a boy who believed his father's money made him untouchable. ​Julian angled straight toward the alcove, blocking Leo’s exit. ​I straightened up, my fingers tightening against the cold steel railing. ​"Look at this," Julian’s loud voice echoed off the polished floor. "The ghost is out early today." ​Leo stopped. He backed into the marble pillar, his posture stiffening as he tried to remain invisible. ​"I'm heading to class, Vance," Leo said quietly, his voice low and even. ​"Did I say you could walk away?" Julian stepped into his space, shoving Leo’s shoulder with casual cruelty. ​The sudden impact snapped the worn strap of Leo's portfolio. The leather binder hit the floor with a heavy slap, spilling dozens of charcoal sketches across the white marble. ​Architectural schematics. Fine portraits. Hours of painstaking, flawless work scatter-patterned across the concourse. ​"Oops," Julian sneered. ​He took a deliberate step forward, planting his heavy leather boot squarely on a detailed drawing of the campus clock tower. He twisted his heel, ripping the heavy paper and smudging graphite across the floor. ​A sharp, dangerous heat flared in my chest. ​"Pick it up," Leo whispered. His hands trembled at his sides, but his eyes were steady. "That's my mid-term work." ​Julian laughed, leaning down until his face was inches from Leo’s. "Listen to me, scholarship trash. You exist here because my father's foundation pays a tax write-off. Get on your knees and clean up your trash before I call security." ​The crowd gathered around them, watching in silence. Nobody moved to help him. ​Leo’s jaw tightened. Slowly, agonizingly, he began to lower himself toward the cold floor to salvage his torn work. ​Enough. ​"Marcus," I said, my voice dropping to a icy register. "Clear a path." ​"Yes, Miss Montgomery." ​I didn't wait for my security detail. I turned and descended the grand staircase, my leather heels tapping against the marble with sharp, rhythmic precision. ​The crowd parted instantly the moment they sensed my movement. The whispering died down. The air in the hallway turned dead cold. ​Julian was holding up his phone, recording Leo on his knees, when my voice sliced through the concourse. ​"Touch him again, Julian, and I'll have your father's firm liquidated by five o'clock." ​Every eyes in the concourse locked onto me. ​Julian froze. His phone slipped slightly in his grip, the arrogant smirk vanishing from his face as a tight, flush spread up his neck. ​"Elena," Julian stammered, taking an instinctive step back from Leo. "It's... it's not what it looks like. He was blocking the walkway—" ​I didn't look at Julian. I didn't care about Julian. ​My eyes were locked entirely on Leo. ​He was still frozen on one knee among his ruined drawings, looking up at me with wide, guarded eyes. ​I stepped past Julian, stopping two feet from Leo. The scent of rain and charcoal rose from the floor between us. ​Slowly, I knelt down. ​I didn't care about my tailored coat touching the floor. I didn't care about the two hundred students watching the heiress of Montgomery Holdings drop to her knees in the middle of the concourse. ​I reached out, picking up one of the undamaged sketches—a portrait of rain hitting the glass roof, drawn with delicate, breathtaking line work. ​I looked at the drawing for three seconds. Then I raised my eyes to Leo. ​Up close, his eyes were a striking, clear hazel. Beneath his tense expression, there was an unyielding pride that even Julian's boot couldn't crush. ​He wasn't just a target on this campus. He was mine. ​"Is this yours?" I asked softly. ​Leo swallowed, his voice tight. "Yes." ​I turned my head slightly, sparing Julian a single, frigid glance. ​Julian looked as if he were standing before an executioner. ​"Julian," I said smoothly, my tone conversational. "Your father has been begging my board for an equity bridge loan for six months." ​"Elena, please—" ​"If I see your boots within ten feet of this boy again," I continued, "I will personally execute the default clause on Vance Capital's debt package." ​Julian went completely pale. "You wouldn't—" ​"Do you know what happens then, Julian?" I tilted my head. "You become poor. Now get out of my sight." ​Julian didn't say another word. He turned on his heel and practically ran down the hall, his two teammates scrambling behind him like beaten dogs. ​The surrounding crowd scattered within seconds, terrified of being noticed. ​Silence settled over the concourse. ​I stood up, stepping closer to Leo, and held out my gloved hand. ​"Up," I commanded softly. ​He hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking my hand. ​His grip was warm, rough with calluses from drafting pencils. Pulling him smoothly to his feet, I didn't let go immediately. Instead, I leaned in until my lips were inches from his ear, feeling the quick, uneven rhythm of his breath. ​"You're far too talented to be bleeding for trash like Julian," I murmured, my thumb brushing lightly against a smudge of graphite on his wrist. ​Leo looked directly into my eyes, searching my face with intense confusion. "Why are you helping me? You don't even know my name." ​A low, slow smile touched my lips. ​"I know everything about you, Leo Daniels," I whispered, holding his gaze until his breath caught in his throat. "And you don't belong to them anymore." ​I stepped back, signaling Marcus toward the double doors where my black Maybach was idling. ​"Gather your things," I told him without turning back. "My car is waiting outside."