Heir to vengeance

CHAPTER 5: Strings Attached

ARIA

The hallways smelled like paper and perfume, and I was halfway through my economics class when a woman in a navy suit knocked on the door. Her voice was flat when she said my name.

“Aria Delane? The Headmistress would like to see you.”

Every head turned toward me. My stomach twisted. The teacher frowned but nodded, waving me off.

I packed my books slowly, pretending not to notice the curious stares. A few whispers followed me out. Maybe I’d missed a form, or maybe this was about the scholarship orientation. That’s what I told myself as I walked down the hall — but deep down, something cold pressed against my chest.

By the time I reached the Headmistress’s office, my palms were damp.

The secretary glanced up from her desk and gave me that polite smile people give when they already know something you don’t. “You can go right in, dear.”

Her tone was too sweet. Too careful.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the first thing I saw was Peter.

He was sitting across from the Headmistress’s desk, shoulders tense, jaw tight. When he looked up and saw me, his eyes softened for a second — just a second — before he straightened again.

“Sit down, Miss Delane,” the Headmistress said. Her voice was cool, smooth, the kind that could slice through glass.

The office smelled faintly of coffee and old books. The air conditioner hummed softly. Everything was neat, from the rows of files on the cabinet to the silver pen that lay perfectly straight on the desk. Two men sat beside her — older, both in dark suits. One of them had a gold pin on his lapel, shaped like the Valemont crest. The other had the kind of stillness that made my skin crawl.

I sat down slowly, my heart pounding. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

The Headmistress smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No, dear. We simply wanted to have a little chat.”

I glanced at Peter. He looked like he wanted to speak, but his jaw flexed, and he stayed silent.

The man with the pin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re on a full scholarship, aren’t you, Miss Delane?”

“Yes, sir,” I said quietly. “I— I’m very grateful for it.”

“Good,” he said. “Valemont is proud to offer opportunities to exceptional students. Students who understand their place.”

That word — place — hit harder than I expected.

The Headmistress folded her hands neatly. “You’ve been seen quite frequently with Mr. Valerio.”

My eyes flicked toward Peter. His fists were clenched on his knees. “We… we study together,” I said carefully. “He’s been helping me with—”

“Mr. Valerio,” the second man cut in, his voice calm but heavy, “is from a very important family. His father has long supported this institution. We simply worry that your association with him might… distract you from your academic goals.”

“Distract me?” I repeated, confused.

The Headmistress gave a thin smile. “You must understand, dear. Peter’s world is not like yours. People talk. They notice. It would be unfortunate if the wrong people thought you were… taking advantage of his kindness.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. “That’s not—”

The man with the pin raised a hand. “No need to get defensive. We’re only looking out for you.”

I felt my throat tighten. The air in the room felt colder now.

Peter suddenly spoke, voice sharp. “This is ridiculous. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Peter—” the Headmistress warned.

“No, seriously,” he snapped, standing up. “You’re threatening her because of me? Because my father—”

“That’s enough,” the second man said, his tone dropping like a knife. “Sit down, Mr. Valerio.”

For a moment, I thought he’d refuse. His jaw locked, his eyes burned. Then he sat back down, but the air around him was trembling with anger.

The Headmistress turned her gaze back to me, voice soft again. “Aria, your scholarship is funded by donors connected to the Valerio family. They are very particular about the school’s image. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to jeopardize your position here.”

My chest felt tight. “No, ma’am. I— I wouldn’t.”

“Good.” Her smile returned, polite and empty. “We’re not asking much. Simply that you… maintain some distance. Focus on your studies. It’s for your own good.”

I swallowed hard. “Distance?”

The man with the pin nodded. “Yes. End whatever… friendship this is. Otherwise, we’ll have to reevaluate your scholarship. And, of course, inform your guardian. What was his name again? Ah, Dante.”

My blood went cold.

Dante.

They knew about him.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t call him. Please.”

The Headmistress tilted her head, pretending to be kind. “Then I trust you’ll make the right choice.”

I couldn’t breathe. My hands trembled on my lap. “I promise. I’ll stay away from Peter. Just… please don’t tell him. He—he worries too much.”

Peter’s chair scraped against the floor. “Stop it,” he said through his teeth. “You can’t talk to her like that.”

The Headmistress gave him a cold smile. “You’re only making it worse, Mr. Valerio.”

“Worse for who?” His voice cracked a little. “For her or for you?”

The man beside her stood slowly. “Peter,” he said calmly, “I suggest you remember who your father is before you dig yourself deeper.”

The room fell silent.

Peter’s face went pale. He sank back down, breathing hard.

The Headmistress’s tone turned almost motherly again, which somehow made it worse. “We only want what’s best for everyone. You understand, don’t you, Aria?”

I nodded, even though everything inside me screamed no.

“Good,” she said softly. “Then we’ll consider this matter closed.”

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the meeting in my head — the way they smiled while threatening me, the way they said Dante’s name. The way Peter looked at me, like he wanted to fight everyone in that room.

The storm outside was heavy. Rain tapped against the window, slow at first, then harder. The sound filled the silence.

I sat by the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass. My chest ached.

A knock startled me.

I froze. It was almost midnight.

When I opened the door, Peter was standing there, soaked to the bone, hair dripping into his eyes.

“Peter—”

“Can I come in?” His voice was low, urgent.

I looked over my shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t care.”

He stepped inside before I could stop him. The room filled with the smell of rain and cold air.

I crossed my arms, trying to stay calm. “If someone sees you—”

“They won’t.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, his jaw tight. “You can’t let them scare you, Aria.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand. They can end my scholarship. They can call Dante. I can’t risk that.”

He took a step closer. “So you’re just going to let them control you? Tell you who you can talk to?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “You either live for yourself or for them.”

My throat burned. “You don’t know what it’s like to owe everything to someone. To always be watched. To know one mistake could take it all away.”

He stared at me for a long moment. His eyes softened, but there was something darker behind them. Something that looked like pity — or maybe regret.

Finally, he said quietly, “You don’t understand, Aria… they already have.”