Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
LEO
Fake it ‘til you make it.
That was the unspoken mantra of every Royal Oaks royal, and I wore it like a damn crown.
Smile like nothing hurts. Walk like the world belongs to you. Shrug off heartbreak like it’s just an old hoodie you outgrew.
I played my part.
Lunch in the quad with Tristan and X. Talking stats and sneaker drops like my chest wasn’t caving in. Slamming Red Bulls between AP Econ and practice. Flirting with girls I didn’t care about. Brushing off the way everyone glanced at me sideways when Jade wasn’t by my side anymore.
She was gone—and that was my doing.
So I leaned in.
Cut her out of the group project. Told Ms. Whitlock I’d handle the PowerPoint myself. "She’s not showing up anyway," I said with a shrug that didn’t even sound like me. “Can’t have the grade riding on a no-show.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow but didn’t push—yet.
X just watched me. Quiet. Like he could see straight through the performance.
Basketball was picking up again. Coach was pushing us harder, ramping up for preseason scrimmages.
My name had started floating around again—Notre Dame, maybe Michigan.
Now that their starting point guard had entered the transfer portal, a few eyes were shifting toward me. My stats, my height, my last name.
Play college ball?
Or date a scholarship girl?
Have both? Never…
“Easy choice, right?” I muttered to myself, tossing a ball at the wall behind the gym with more force than necessary.
“You keep throwing like that, we’re gonna need a new wall,” Tristan said, strolling in with his usual chill.
I grunted.
He didn’t buy it.
“You done icing her out?” he asked casually, bending to tie his shoes.
“There’s nothing to ice,” I lied. “She’s a scholarship girl. She knew what this was.”
“Yeah, well…” he stood and looked me dead in the eye. “You didn’t.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to drop it, but X walked in, uncharacteristically silent. The tension settled like fog.
“She texted me,” X said suddenly, to no one and everyone.
We both turned.
“I didn’t answer,” he added. “Didn’t know what to say.”
“Who?” I asked, even though I already knew.
Xavier looked down at his hands. “Her. Jade.”
A beat passed. Then another.
“She okay?” Tristan asked, his voice softer now.
“She asked if I had the notes from Calc. Said she was… falling behind. I didn’t send them.”
“You scared?” I challenged, crossing my arms.
“No,” he replied, steady. “I just remember what happened freshman year.”
Tristan straightened.
X didn’t look up, just kept fiddling with his bracelets. “I was seeing this girl. Olivia. Scholarship kid. Quiet. Wicked smart. We kept it low for a few months. But my mom found out.”
Silence.
“She didn’t yell,” he added. “Didn’t scream. Just… made a few calls. Next thing I know, Liv’s crying in the janitor’s closet, saying she can’t take it. Transferred back home after Christmas. Never came back.”
I swallowed hard.
“It’s not about the girl,” X said, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s about the system. About the kind of world we live in.”
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, backing away emotionally, “I’m not gonna torch my future for someone who couldn’t handle the heat.”
Liar. My own words tasted like ash.
“Your call, man,” Tristan said, shaking his head. “But don’t pretend you’re fine. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
I shrugged, grabbed my phone, and left the gym.
The dining room at my house was ridiculous.
Twenty-foot ceilings. Crystal chandeliers.
A fireplace that never saw wood because it was gas and glowed like it belonged in a Renaissance painting.
The table was mahogany, imported from somewhere like Morocco or Monaco—hell, I couldn’t remember—and it could seat twenty even though there were only three of us.
Me. My mother. My father.
The Holt triumvirate.
Dinner was formal. No phones. Starched napkins. Wine for my parents, Pellegrino for me. My mom wore pearls. My dad wore a suit even though he worked from home all day.
I wore a mask.
Emotionless. Controlled.
My fork clicked against the porcelain as I chased a piece of seared duck breast around my plate, barely tasting anything.
“You did the right thing, son,” my dad said, breaking the silence.
I didn’t look up.
“We heard the girl’s laying low. Probably realized she was out of her league.”
My mother sipped her wine delicately, not saying a word. But her silence was smug. Triumphant.
“I know it wasn’t easy,” my dad continued, “but you’re a Holt. And we don’t let emotions steer the ship. We are the damn ship.”
Right. The legacy. The name. The burden.
“She would’ve held you back,” he added. “Notre Dame sees discipline. Focus. Family unity. Not teenage soap operas.”
I stabbed a green bean so hard it split open.
“And I hear,” he added with a sly smirk, “there’s a new student transferring in after holiday break.”
My mother’s eyes lit up.
“British,” she said, finally speaking. “Connected to the royal family. Distant cousin, but still—it plays well.”
“She’s stunning,” my dad said, winking at me like I was his frat brother and not his kid. “Sharp, well-bred. Speaks three languages. Her family’s been looking into property in Newport. Perfect timing.”
I didn’t respond.
“She’d look good on your arm,” he added casually, “come Prom.”
The duck curdled in my throat.
My mom tilted her wine glass. “You’ll enjoy her company, darling. She’s polished. Comes from people who matter.”
Unlike Jade.
The subtext was louder than the chandelier buzzing above us.
I clenched my jaw and nodded once. Just once. The kind of nod that got me out of this damn room before I flipped the table and exposed the truth—that the girl they hunted like prey was the first real thing I’d ever felt.
That I didn’t want a polished royal cousin or some debutante who matched the dinnerware.
I wanted the girl with fire in her soul and scars on her palms. The one who played soccer like it was her lifeline and kissed like she’d never tasted anything sweeter.
I wanted Jade.
And they’d ripped her from me.
So I smiled like a good son, pushed back my chair with quiet dignity, and excused myself with an apology about needing to review game tape.
My father clinked his wine glass to mine as I passed. “That’s my boy.”
No, I thought bitterly.
Not anymore.