Chapter 3: The Wrong Target

Chapter 3: The Wrong Target

The partnership was a cage, but Elara Vance was an expert at finding the key. Kaelen Blackwood clearly saw their forced collaboration as his ultimate victory, a stage where he could finally command her undivided attention. He was mistaken. For Elara, the partnership was not an obstacle; it was an opportunity. An accidental, heaven-sent crowbar to pry open the door to Julian Croft.

She ignored Kaelen with a focus so absolute it became an art form. He was a force of nature in the room, a storm of arrogance and cologne, but she treated him like background noise, a humming radiator she had to speak over. Her true target sat opposite them in the glass-walled study room she had booked in the library’s most public area.

Julian Croft was Kaelen’s opposite in every conceivable way. Where Kaelen was a sharp, predatory line, Julian was a soft, hesitant curve. He had kind, intelligent eyes that darted away when met, and he fiddled constantly with the strap of his messenger bag. He was drowning in the sheer force of Kaelen’s personality, a ship caught in a hurricane’s wake.

“So, the preliminary model,” Elara began, her voice crisp and professional. She deliberately angled her body towards Julian, effectively creating a conversational wall that excluded Kaelen. “It requires a projection of market response to disruptive technology. Julian, your father’s work is in biotech, isn’t it? That’s the definition of disruptive. Do you have any insight into how he approaches market forecasting?”

It was a brilliant, multi-layered move. It was relevant to the project, it flattered Julian by acknowledging his connection, and it completely bypassed Kaelen.

Julian blinked, startled to be addressed so directly. “Oh, uh, I don’t… Dad doesn’t talk about work much. He’s very… private.”

“Of course,” Elara said, offering him a small, fleeting smile. It was a calculated expression, a tool she was deploying, but it was the first time Kaelen had ever seen her face soften. “But you must have absorbed some of it. Even the general philosophy. Is he a risk-taker, or more conservative?”

From his throne of forced silence, Kaelen watched. He had come here prepared for battle, armed with condescension and cutting remarks. He had expected her to be sullen, resistant, and focused entirely on him as the source of her misery.

Instead, she was ignoring him so thoroughly it was as if he were a ghost at the table. And worse, she was directing this other version of herself at Julian. This engaged, curious, almost… warm version. The smile, however small, was a physical shock. He had used his family name, his wealth, his power to publicly humiliate her, and he’d received nothing but a blank stare. Julian Croft existed, and he got a smile?

A new, unfamiliar poison began to drip into Kaelen’s veins. It wasn't the clean fury of a king whose authority was challenged. This was something curdled and ugly. He watched her lean forward slightly, her dark eyes fixed on Julian, and his mind, unable to process her indifference to him, twisted the scene into a language he understood: ambition.

So that’s her game, he thought, the revelation hitting him with the force of a physical blow. It was never about me. She’s a hunter. And she decided the king was too well-guarded. So she’s going after the quieter prince.

The scholarship, the second-hand clothes, the fierce focus—it all rearranged itself into a new, sordid picture in his mind. She was a social climber of the highest order. A gold-digger. She didn't want Kaelen Blackwood; she wanted a Croft. The realization didn't quell his anger. It ignited it, twisting it into a hot, possessive jealousy that stunned him with its intensity.

“Our project, Vance,” Kaelen’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and cold. “Let’s not bore Croft with your attempts at corporate espionage. Stick to the syllabus.”

Elara didn’t flinch. She simply turned her head, her expression reverting to its familiar, maddening neutrality. “I was discussing the syllabus, Kaelen. It’s called primary source research.” She turned back to Julian. “Another time, perhaps.”

The meeting ended soon after. Kaelen had won the skirmish, successfully shutting down her line of inquiry, but the sour taste of her smile for Julian lingered. He saw it as a declaration of war on a new front.

His attacks shifted. They were no longer about broad academic sabotage. They became dangerously precise, aimed at the budding connection he perceived between Elara and Julian.

Two days later, Elara cornered Julian near The Daily Grind, the campus coffee shop. It was a calculated "chance" encounter.

“Julian,” she said, her voice low. “I found that paper on Austrian economics we talked about. There’s a passage on innovation cycles I thought you’d find interesting.”

Julian’s face lit up with genuine interest. “Really? I’ve been looking for—”

“Touching. A regular book club.”

Kaelen emerged from the coffee shop, a paper cup in his hand, his presence immediately sucking the warmth from the autumn air. He didn’t look at Elara. He looked at Julian, his gaze patronizing. “Be careful, Croft. Scholarship students have to be resourceful. They get very good at identifying assets.”

Julian flushed, looking at the ground. Elara’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Kaelen then turned his piercing grey eyes on her. The smirk was gone, replaced by something colder, more venomous. “I’m surprised to see you hunting on this part of the preserve, Vance. Or did you simply calculate that the Croft fortune was less guarded than the Blackwood one?”

The attack was masterful in its cruelty. It painted her as a predator, it reminded Julian of his status as prey, and it publicly humiliated her by dragging her financial situation into the open, all while reasserting his own place at the top of the food chain. The students milling nearby fell silent, watching the drama unfold.

This was his new strategy. If she wanted Julian, he would poison the well. He would make her so toxic that no one, least of all the shy, gentle Julian Croft, would dare get close to her.

For the first time, his attack landed with a dull thud somewhere deep inside her. It was so close to the truth, yet so fundamentally wrong. She was hunting. She was targeting Julian for his name. But the prize wasn’t fortune; it was life.

She held Kaelen’s gaze, her own eyes like chips of flint. “I didn’t realize you viewed your classmates as property to be managed, Kaelen,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “I thought we were just students. My mistake.”

She gave a small, stiff nod to Julian. “I’ll send you the link.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her back ramrod straight. She didn’t run. She didn’t flinch. But Kaelen saw it. In the rigid set of her shoulders, he saw the faintest tremor. A hit. Finally, a confirmed hit.

A cruel, triumphant satisfaction surged through him, the jealousy momentarily soothed. He had found a weapon that worked. He had discovered her strategy, her ambition, her target.

And he would burn it all to the ground before he let her have it.