Chapter 35

Oliver Valentine leaned lazily against the corridor wall, absently flipping a coin between his slender fingers. Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting sharp contours across his handsome features.

"Ethan," he suddenly spoke, his voice laced with playful resentment, "Why must you be so damn perfect? Now Professor Klein won't even look at anyone else."

Ethan Sullivan stood by the window, his expression unreadable behind gold-rimmed glasses. He adjusted them with a slight smirk. "Natural talent."

"..."

Oliver nearly crushed the coin in his grip.

They'd grown up together, yet Ethan had always been steps ahead. No matter how hard Oliver tried, he could never catch up to his childhood friend.

Eventually, he'd stopped trying.

Through the classroom door's small window, Oliver's gaze settled on Evelyn Laurent. The young woman sat absorbed in her exam, sunlight gilding her silhouette.

"Your fiancée," Oliver whistled low, "is going places. Professor Klein doesn't take just anyone."

"Hmm."

Ethan's response was glacial in its indifference.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice. "Still hung up on your unrequited love? Honestly, Evelyn's gorgeous, and she is your fiancée—"

"The engagement won't stand."

Ethan's interruption came like an ice blade.

"We'll dissolve it eventually."

Oliver blinked, then shook his head. Ethan's polished exterior hid an unshakable stubbornness. That genteel charm was merely armor.

No one truly reached his heart.

Oliver's eyes returned to Evelyn. Sunlight sculpted her profile into something breathtaking, her writing hand steady as stone.

"If you're not interested," Oliver suddenly grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes, "mind if I pursue her?"

"No."

Ethan turned sharply, his gaze razor-sharp.

Oliver laughed at his reaction. "The Valentines and Laurents are equals. She wouldn't be marrying beneath her."

"I said no."

Ethan's voice brooked no argument. His assessing stare swept Oliver before adding disdainfully, "Besides, you're too old."

"What?!" Oliver's eyes widened. "We're the same age! How am I old?"

Ethan adjusted his glasses with aristocratic grace. "I'm better looking."

Oliver clutched his chest as if struck.

Before he could retort, his phone rang sharply. "Isabella Valentine" flashed on the screen.

"Brother!" Isabella's shrill voice pierced through. "Evelyn actually got into Harvard? Ethan must've pulled strings! That country bumpkin could never—"

"Isabella," Oliver cut in sternly, "Professor Klein doesn't play favorites. Evelyn earned her spot."