Hearts Under Contract

St. Edevane Academy stood like a cathedral to privilege and prestige—red-brick towers, stained glass, and ivy clawing its way toward heaven. The students within its gates carried surnames like crests, passed down with expectations and rot beneath their polish. Wealth here wasn’t new. It was inherited. And power, even among teenagers, was a game—ruthless and glittering. No one played that game better than Ronan Vale. He sat alone under the old ash tree in the west courtyard, watching, calculating. His uniform was immaculate, tie pinned with a silver dagger-shaped clasp. He wasn’t loud. He didn’t need to be. People came to him when they needed things that money alone couldn’t buy—erased grades, silenced scandals, fabricated alibis. Ronan didn’t care why. He only cared what they were willing to pay. And he never let them forget the cost. Today, however, his gaze wasn’t on his usual prey. It followed Lilith Crane. She wasn’t from money. Everyone knew that. Her blazers were always a little too worn at the cuffs, and her books came from the used bin. But there was something untouched about her. A delicacy that hadn’t yet been broken or shaped to fit the academy’s cruel elegance. Ronan had first noticed her in Literature. She sat in the third row, always taking notes in a fraying leather journal, writing poetry in the margins. Once, she’d read aloud a line about drowning in sunlight—and Ronan had tilted his head. Not because he felt anything. But because she was different. And different was useful. But there was a problem. One with perfect teeth and a practiced smile. Alec Sterling. The golden boy. Fencing champion, top of the debate team, son of Sterling Pharmaceuticals. The school’s walking heirloom. Alec had that effortless arrogance of someone who’d never been told no—and if he had, he’d made them bleed for it. He and Ronan had crossed paths before. Too many times. Today, Alec draped himself beside Lilith on the courtyard bench, spinning her curls around his finger, whispering things that made her blush and look away. It was all a performance. Everything Alec did was meant to be seen. But what chilled Ronan wasn’t Alec’s charm. It was how easily Lilith leaned toward it. Ronan closed his book, eyes sharp behind cold lashes. > She’ll fall, he thought. But I’ll make sure she knows who caught her. And who owns her. That evening, while others drank spiked cider in dorm basements or laughed in candlelit study groups, Ronan walked the silent corridors alone. He moved like a shadow, slipping into the second-floor girls’ wing without a sound. Cameras were easy to loop. Teachers were predictable. And no one questioned Ronan Vale. He found her locker. Number 73. Inside, her books were stacked with surgical precision. On top, he placed a black envelope. Inside: > One month. One secret. One kiss. In exchange, your mother’s hospital bills will disappear. Signed: R.V. No threats. No demands. Just an offer. Ronan knew the hospital was drowning in debt collectors. He also knew Lilith hadn’t told a soul. But she’d mentioned it in passing once—too softly for most to hear. He remembered everything. --- The next morning, she was pale when she walked into homeroom. Her eyes scanned the room like prey tracking a predator, but no one looked up. Ronan didn’t approach her. He waited. And that afternoon, beneath the bleachers of the old stadium, she found him. She didn’t speak at first—just held the envelope in shaking fingers. “You did research on me,” she whispered. Ronan leaned against the column, unfazed. “Not much. You offered it. The day you asked Professor Halloway for an extension and mentioned why.” Her voice cracked. “You think this is love?” His smile never reached his eyes. “No, Lilith. I think this is business. The question is whether you’re wise enough to take the deal.” She hesitated, trembling like a violin string stretched too tight. “What do you get out of it?” Ronan stepped closer—invading her air. Not touching. Never touching. That would make it simple. “I get thirty days of truth,” he murmured. “You. Away from him. No lies. No pretending. You spend the month with me, speak honestly, and at the end, you kiss me. Once. If you do that, your mother’s medical records vanish.” Lilith looked away. Her lips parted, but no sound came. “You’ve already decided,” Ronan added, voice low. “You just hate that you have.” When she finally spoke, it wasn’t with tears—but with steel. “You’re worse than him.” Ronan’s grin flickered, sharp and pleased. “I know.” --- Word spread quickly, though no one quite knew what had happened. Lilith stopped sitting with Alec. She walked the halls beside Ronan now—her eyes down, his hand never quite touching her back, but always close enough to own the air around her. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t run. Alec watched from afar, smirking like a knife. He didn’t approach her for days. Until one Friday after fencing practice, Alec cornered her by the vending machines, sweat-slicked and smiling. His voice was smooth as velvet laced with arsenic. “So,” he drawled, “you’re the latest name on Ronan’s ledger. I’d ask what he’s charging, but I imagine it’s more than money.” Lilith said nothing. He stepped closer. “Don’t think he loves you, little dove. Ronan Vale doesn’t have a heart to give. He only has locks. And debts.” Still, she was silent. Until: “It’s not about love,” she whispered. Alec raised a brow. “It’s about control.” She turned away. And Alec—for the first time—didn’t smile. --- That night, Ronan met her by the observatory. Their sessions were always late, always somewhere strange. Places no one would go, places no one would think to look. She sat beside him, knees pulled to her chest. “Why me?” she asked finally. Ronan didn’t lie. “Because you’re honest. And honesty is easy to break.” He reached into his coat and handed her a sealed envelope. Inside was a receipt. Her mother’s hospital ledger. Paid. Zero balance. Lilith stared at it, the tremble returning to her fingers. “You didn’t have to do it yet,” she said. “I wanted to,” Ronan said. “This way, you don’t owe me. You choose the kiss at the end. Or not.” “And if I don’t?” she asked. Ronan shrugged. “Then I lose. But so does he.”