Chapter 14 Olivia
The smell of old paper and coffee has my nose wrinkling the moment I sit across from my newest academic advisor. Dr. Temperance Moreau. Her glasses perch on the tip of her nose as she riffles through page after page in a file marked with my new name.
Oliver Davenport.
Her teased and curled blonde hair sways every time she licks the tip of her finger while sorting through the copious amounts of papers in a stack. Odd. Why would they have so many on me? What the hell did Jonathan send to her?
There's judgment in her gaze as she does another sweep of my body, refusing to look me in the eyes. I keep my eyes forward, my Veritas issued glasses trained on her facial expression and how her lips tighten with disgust. It’s something I’ll have access to later and can watch for signs of deceit or trickery.
"I'm well aware." I wasn't. I have no idea what the fuck scholarship I was on.
I've already been through online classes and graduated with ease—between missions, of course.
So, actually going into a classroom and having to keep a good GPA puts a wrench in my—watching everyone during class and coasting through the education part of this mission.
Fuck.
And I can't come out and say, "Well, I'm not here to learn. I'm here to shake your institution up and get rid of the gangs and crimes and whatever else is happening within these walls.”
The whatever else is the important part.
I know there’s something fishy about this school.
Between the rules the RAs laid out and now the looks Dr. Moreau is giving me, has my mind spinning in every direction.
Fuck. I need a partner on this case. How am I supposed to do all of this alone?
The campus is huge, covering so many acres of land and tons of students.
How can I pinpoint the funny business happening when it’s happening everywhere around me? The frats. The institution. The streets. Businesses.
Where the hell do I even start?
My mind spirals as Dr. Moreau speaks. It’s probably important what she’s saying, but I can’t seem to focus until she clears her throat, unimpressed with my lack of concentration.
She raises a haughty brow, her bracelet jingling with every move she makes as she slams my file shut. Obviously unimpressed with that, too.
"You understand that your performance will need to be high to maintain the grades and workload at Greenwood U. We have a very rigorous program.” Her lips form a straight, tight line like she doesn’t quite believe I’m up to snuff.
I wonder if she has a bias for scholarship students, too.
It would make sense if all the other students hated them.
They learn from their leaders. “Now, it says here that you were a Criminal Justice major at your previous institution.
" She lifts a dyed blonde brow, waiting for me to acknowledge her.
"Yes," I say, clearing my throat.
"And you're hoping to continue that major here?
" I nod again wordlessly. "Good, good," she hums to herself, sliding over a sheet of paper.
"Here's a tentative list of classes for you to look over.
It looks like you're very close to completing your hours and classes.
Your other university speaks highly of you. "
I offer her a tight smile, looking over the classes she has down. They're all the classes I've taken online and should be easy to fly through. Maybe that's why Jonathan gave her the transcripts. He knew I'd appreciate having easy classes.
"They look good for the fall semester," I say, handing the paper back, feeling confident in my class options.
This will give me the time and energy to look into the people around me without suspicion. I'll know the material—probably better than the teachers—and ace each class with ease.
At least, I fucking hope so. If this place is as rigid as Dr. Moreau is making it out to be, maybe the material will be harder than my online courses.
I blow out a breath, my shoulders slightly slumping from the relief.
Jonathan has had me in questionable positions before.
Cases I didn't think I'd make it through without getting killed. Like my previous one right before this job. I almost didn’t make it out alive, scrimping by the skin of my damn teeth.
But this one? It can't be too bad, right? It’s simple. Straightforward as they come.
Famous last words.
She grins, opening her laptop and pounding out a few words while humming to herself.
"Well, good. This will be your schedule for the Fall semester, then.
I'll have it emailed to you promptly with class times and a list of your professors.
Four classes. 12 credit hours. And then the same next semester.
" She taps a few more times and sighs, sitting back in her seat.
"Your teachers will update me weekly on your performance, and if you're slipping up and falling behind, we will have another discussion.
Tutors are available through the library, if you need them.
" She raises her brow, emphasizing her point.
"Weekly?" The words slip out before I can think about it.
So, they’re going to be keeping an eye on me. At all times. Interesting.
"Yes. We take ourselves very seriously here.
If you haven't noticed, we produce top-ranking students.
Senators. Presidents. Even movie stars." She holds up three fingers, cockily smirking.
"And scholarship students have to prove themselves to us.
You're here because we want you to be here. So, prove your worth."
That's a good pitch, lady. Prove my worth? This place is fucking weird. I feel like I’m about to enter some sort of challenge to show the leaders of this place I can be an asset. It makes me wonder if that’s what’s happening.
"And I thank you for the opportunity." I try to sound as polite as I can, but I'm feeling rebellious. My skin itches with the way she looks at me like prey she wants to devour.
Note to self—keep an eye on her, too. In fact, watch everyone working on this campus. They’re fishier than fucking frying fish.
“Oh, and Oliver. Here’s a flyer for the upcoming blood drive.
All scholarship students are heavily encouraged to participate.
” She slides over a flyer featuring the upcoming blood drive.
“If you read there, we’re in competition with another university.
Whoever gives the most, wins a prize and bragging rights. ”
I eye her as she grins proudly at the thought of giving blood. It’s something I’ve never done before. But it seems to be important to her and the school.
“Um, thanks. I’m not sure…”
“Please consider. If you do happen to donate, your professors are considering it as an assignment and giving A’s to everyone who participates.” She cocks her head. “And you could use a few A’s to start off the year well.”
“Uh, sure,” I trail off, shoving the blood drive pamphlet into my back pocket, and pick up my schedule again.
“Well, off you go, Oliver. Enjoy Greenwood. And if you ever need anything, please make an appointment through our online portal.” She grins, sending an uneasy wave of nausea through me. “Oh, and please send in my next appointment. She should be right outside.”
After bidding Dr. Moreau goodbye and getting shooed away, I step out of her stuffy office into the main hallway of the administrative building.
It’s quiet out here. Refreshing. No students meandering the halls on this desolate Monday morning.
It’s nothing like I thought it would be.
I always dreamed of coming here as a kid.
It was something I thought I could achieve with the guys.
We dreamed of partying, joining clubs, frats, sororities, and everything under the sun to be normal.
But normal? Pfft. What the hell is that?
We were dreamers. Kids raised in the damn mafia and mob.
Brought up to murder those who did us wrong and work under the bosses.
Well, me anyway. The boys were the future rulers of Greenwood.
Then, we were escaping the inevitable that was bound to happen.
Hux was bound by his duty to his foster dad to take up a high-ranking position within the gang.
Close to the top, it would be impossible for him to walk away if he changed his mind.
And JJ and Mack at his side, fulfilling their duty to Franco.
A thank you for taking them in and training them within the gang.
And then there was me. The daughter of a disgraced mafia member. I was a stain in Franco’s eyes. A stain he couldn’t do anything about. Well, until he did.
As I drag myself out of my thoughts, I ground myself in the present.
The marbled floors are thick with grey veins, swirling whites and gold, reflecting the chandelier that rests above the imposing double doors.
The crest of the school, hanging proudly below the motto-–Morior Invictus | Death before defeat.
Everything about this place screams money and privilege with its arched ceilings, accented gold light fixtures, and dark-stained wooden walls.
A sadness hits me out of nowhere. A feeling I’ve been too accustomed to lately.
It’s overwhelming and encompasses my whole body.
A buzzing realization that I was meant to be here.
But as Olivia. If I had lived past my seventeenth year and graduated from Greenwood High, I would have walked these halls with Hux, JJ, and Mack.
We would have made it. We would have become the people we wanted to be. Who we were destined to become outside the roles our family ties dictated we would be.
Our own people.
But we didn’t. I didn’t.
They’ve lived the dream we mapped out, living on campus and going to classes. But not me. I’m no longer a part of the equation.
Do they ever miss me? Wish I were here?
Fuck.