Page 51 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

Ophelia’s eyes shift, a flicker of defiance crossing her features before she masks it with practiced subservience. “Of course I do,” she responds. “But how am I supposed to accomplish that?”

“That’s not my problem,” I grunt, indifferent. My mind is already made up.

“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped.

She bends down, retrieving her discarded clothing. As she dresses, I turn back to the water, my thoughts drifting once again to Prescott.

The thick, ominous clouds, signal a storm to come. They perfectly reflect the turmoil within me. I need to regain control—over Prescott, over this situation, over myself. This obsession is dangerous, a weakness I can’t afford.

“I’ll find her,” Ophelia says, her voice visibly tight, not that I care. “But don’t expect me to work miracles. That girl hates you.”

I turn to her, a cruel smile twisting my lips. “Make her curious. Appeal to her savior complex if you have to. Just get her here.”

Ophelia hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching my face. Whatever she sees there makes her shoulders slump inresignation. “Fine,” she says again. “But this is the last time, Bishop. I’m not your puppet, I’m your girlfriend.”

Aren’t they the same thing, though?

I ignore her empty threat, knowing she’ll always come crawling back. She’s too addicted to the scraps of affection I occasionally toss her way. “You’re wasting time,” I command, waving her off dismissively.

As her footsteps fade away, I turn my attention back to the turbulent water ahead.

“And Ophelia,” I call after her. “Don’t disappoint me.”

She doesn’t look back, but I see her shoulders stiffen at my words. Good. Let her feel the weight of my expectations.

As she retreats, I’m left alone with my thoughts, the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance. The wind picks up, carrying the sharp scent of precipitation and ozone. Rain is approaching, and I can almost feel it—like Prescott. Unpredictable, relentless, a force I can’t escape.

I close my eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace, but all I see is her. Her defiance, her fire. Just like the storm that’s coming, she’s always on the horizon, crashing through my mind, impossible to ignore.

Chapter 12

Alex

Ikeep my eyes fixed on the water as it gently sloshes against the pool’s edge. The natatorium is eerily peaceful, but I’m not surprised. It’s Friday night, and most of the students are probably off enjoying the party by the shoreline. Sylvester had extended an invitation, but with most of the students gone, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to keep moving—quietly, carefully—staying just enough steps ahead that no one would think to look in my direction.

Before coming here, I ended up attending the dorm meeting. Part of me just didn’t want to deal with my RA’s attitude if she was late for her other plans, but a larger part of me was simplybored and had nothing else to do. Besides, the later I waited to head to the natatorium, the less likely I was to run into other students.

During the meeting, we were told that extensive renovations would be taking place throughout our entire dorm facility in the upcoming months. We were advised to expect increased noise around the building during this time. The students had mixed reactions—most were excited about the much-needed updates, but no one was looking forward to the nonstop construction.

I couldn’t help but find the timing odd. Prescott dormitory had been falling apart since the day I arrived, and now, suddenly, someone cared enough to fix it? No announcement, no petition, no warning—just a quiet decision made behind closed doors. Odd. But not my current priority.

With a grin on my face, I stepped back to admire my masterpiece. The university’s swimming pool now had white “ice caps” scattered throughout, thanks to the fire extinguisher from Prescott Dormitory. In the center of it all, a toy yacht—slightly too large for its own good—bobbed proudly on the water, with Sylvester’s black Speedo flapping as its flag in the breeze.

I’d “borrowed” the Speedo and some petroleum jelly after sneaking in to wipe down not only Sylvester’s uniform, but also the others. I wasn’t taking any chances. If they tried to replace Sylvester’s, I wanted to make sure they’d all be messed up. The thought of sharing a Speedo sounded disgusting to me, but I wasn’t sure what those swimmers got up to in the locker room. Better safe than sorry.

I wore gloves that I had swiped from the supply closet when I was cleaning the fountains. Ironically enough, I’d found both the boat and petroleum jelly inside the Bedlam tent. Did I want to know why Alfie had gotten the jelly? Absolutely not.

The boat continued to drift lazily around the pool, proudly displaying “S.S. Leaky Legacy” in bold letters on its hull. A trailof petroleum jelly dripped behind it, creating a faint shimmer in the water. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of the swim team arriving and seeing this unexpected addition to the pool.

Perfect.

Before I walked away, I caught a glimpse of my distorted reflection in the still pool water. For a moment, I barely recognize myself as my face suddenly morphed from my own to my mother’s. The person staring back at me looked different—harder, colder. A ringing sound echoes in my ears, vibrating softly. I quickly blink and push away the unsettling sensation, focusing on why I’m here. The Legacies deserved it; every last one of them.

I shake off the eerie feeling and turn away from the pool, my footsteps echoing in the empty natatorium as I make my exit. The ringing in my ears fades, replaced by the soft hum of the building’s ventilation system. As I push open the doors, an onslaught of cold rain hits me, drenching me in an instant. I step back under the awning, irritated by the sudden downpour. I huddle there, trying to stay dry, when I hear footsteps approaching. It’s Sylvester, running toward me with his usually styled blond hair now plastered to his forehead by the rain. He grins at me and offers a friendly hello, but I shoot back a sarcastic remark, crossing my arms to keep the cold at bay.

Despite my obvious hostility, Sylvester chuckles, clearly unfazed by my attitude. “What brings you out in this weather? Another late night swim?”

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