The following day arrived with a brutal, biting cold.
At exactly 6:00 AM, the heavy velvet curtains slid open automatically, flooding the master bedroom with the cold, gray light of the chilling dawn.
The mountains surrounding St.
Jude’s were always known to be freezing, but the weather was significantly worse during the mornings.
Harry yawned for a moment, shifting his weight as he rolled over to face the other side of the bed.
He reached out an arm, intending to pat Lolleta closer to his side.
It was strange that she wasn’t awake yet.
Usually, she was a restless sleeper who would be the one waking Harry up early every morning.
Just then, Harry’s eyes snapped open instantly from the sudden realization.
To think that he had eventually fallen asleep during the very last minutes of the night, after making absolutely sure to watch over Andrew and his daughter.
He had let his guard down.
His eyes were bloodshot, his throat felt like sandpaper, and his entire left side was so stiff from his cracked ribs that he could barely move his arm.
He slowly turned his head, his heart doing a sudden, panicked jump.
The space in the middle of the bed was completely empty.
Lolleta was gone.
Harry panicked.
He ignored the white-hot flash of pain in his torso, throwing the heavy silk duvet aside and scrambling off the mattress.
He stumbled out of the master bedroom, his breathing ragged and shallow, and hurried down the hallway toward the open living area.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance of the kitchen.
Andrew was sitting at the breakfast island, fully dressed in his pristine, white-trimmed academy uniform.
He was casually reading a physical newspaper, a steaming cup of black coffee resting near his elbow.
And right next to him, sitting safely in a high wooden barstool that Lucas must have fetched from the family housing facility, was Lolleta.
The little girl was happily munching on a slice of buttered toast, her face covered in small crumbs.
She looked up at Harry and let out a joyful chirp the moment she saw her father.
“Dada!… take Lolly!”
Harry let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders dropping in sheer relief.
The terrifying weight in his chest finally lifted.
He walked over, his bare feet hitting the cold floorboards, and gently rubbed Lolleta’s black hair before burying his face in it, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent.
“Morning, sweetie. Did you sleep okay?” Harry whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Lolleta nodded quickly, pointing her half-eaten toast toward Andrew with a wide smile.
“Lolly wanted food and Papa gave Lolly bread. Here, taste Dada!… taste Lolly’s bread, it’s good right Dada?”
Harry’s jaw tightened at the word.
He shot a toxic glare across the counter to look at Andrew.
“Don’t tell my child to call you that.”
Andrew didn’t look up from his newspaper.
Instead, he just side-smiled, taking a slow, calculated sip of his black coffee.
“I didn’t tell her anything, Harry,” Andrew said smoothly, his tone entirely casual.
“Children simply find their own words for the people who feed them. And she must have felt it in her blood that I am actually her father. Why try to deny it now?”
Andrew finally lowered the paper, his dark eyes locking onto Harry’s exhausted form.
“You look absolutely wretched, by the way. Did the master bed not meet your high standards?”
“You know exactly why I didn’t sleep, you piece of junk,” Harry muttered.
He pulled out the barstool right next to his daughter and gingerly sat down, his hand automatically pressing against his throbbing side.
He set the clothes down on the couch and placed the tablet right in front of Harry, positioning it next to Lolleta’s plate.
“The campus administration approved her housing an hour ago,” Lucas announced, his voice flat, professional, and completely businesslike.
“Andrew pulled a few strings with the admins to hasten the process, and now Lolleta is officially listed as a resident of the family housing, and also a permanent guest of her fathers’ dormitories—both 402 and Andrew’s royal dorm. So make sure to go sign your documents on your way to classes.”
Harry stared at the device, a cold feeling settling in his stomach.
“And what’s this for?” he asked Lucas, pointing down at the tablet in front of him.
“Why don’t you try to read and find out for yourself, huh?” Lucas countered, crossing his arms.
Harry let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes as he looked down at the glowing screen.
It was a formal, multi-page administrative contract from the high-tier student council.
At the very bottom, the digital signature line was flashing a bright, demanding red.
Co-Signatory of the Mayfair Administrative Bloc.
By signing this, Harry wasn’t just taking an academy job to get by.
He was legally and politically binding his family name, his votes, and his entire campus presence to Andrew Mayfair.
After signing this, he would be known across the entire district as the Mayfair’s personal subordinate.
“Sign it,”
Andrew commanded quietly.
He folded his newspaper neatly and set it down on the marble counter.
His dark eyes locked onto Harry’s face with total, absolute authority.
“The lecture hours begin in forty-five minutes. I expect my Vice President to walk through the main gates by my side, fully uniform-compliant and well prepared.”
Harry stared at the red flashing line, his fingers hovering just above the glass.
He felt the heavy, suffocating weight of the cage closing in on him permanently.
He looked over at Lolleta, who was giggling as she watched a small drop of melted butter drip onto her fingers.
She was safe here.
She was far away from the dark, terrifying halls of the McGuire estate.
She was far away from Lloyd, and far away from his father’s neglect.
This was the price he had to pay and he had to trade his own freedom to buy her safety.
With a heavy, defeated sigh, Harry pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner on the screen.
The tablet let out a soft, green chime.
Signature Confirmed: Vice President Harry McGuire.
Andrew’s smile returned—slow, sharp, and entirely victorious.
“Excellent, Harry,” Andrew said, leaning back.
“Lucas, inform Lolleta’s new nanny that she will arrive at 8:00 AM. Bob will station a few guards for the child just in case his other father ever decides to change his mind and try to run away again. This is for the better.”
Harry rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with irritation.
“Do you seriously think guards would ever get in my way?”
Andrew’s smile faded into something much colder as he glanced at Harry’s side.
“Then just try me. Try it even once.”
Harry scoffed, brushing the threat off, and turned his attention back to his daughter.
Andrew stood up, smoothing the front of his immaculate blazer, looking down at Harry with dark amusement.
“Go get dressed, Harry, and put your sunglasses on to hide that pathetic bruise,” Andrew said, turning toward the door.
“It’s time to show the academy exactly who owns your whole being now.”
******
Thirty minutes later, the heavy front door of Suite 402 clicked locked.
They were all dressed in pristine uniforms, carrying leather satchels and moving toward the central elevators.
The atmosphere was incredibly loud, filled with the casual chatter of wealthy heirs discussing sector funds, upcoming exams, and the mysterious “accident” that had completely cleared out the commoner alleyways the night before.
But the moment the elevator doors opened at the lobby level, the entire grand corridor fell into a dead, absolute silence.
Andrew walked out first, his posture rigid and perfect.
His silver trimmings caught the bright morning light flooding through the massive glass ceilings.
His free hand was tucked casually into his pocket, his expression cool, distant, and completely untouchable.
And in his arms, he carried a chirpy Lolleta, and the king looked undeniably obsessed with the child.
Right beside him walked Harry.
He was moving with a slight, painful stiffness and deep resentment, but he kept his chin held high.
He wore his dark sunglasses, completely obscuring his bruised eye.
His uniform was perfectly pressed, matching Andrew’s stride line for line, though he only carried Lolleta’s small bags because that was all his battered body could manage at the moment.
The surrounding students parted like the sea, whispering frantically behind their hands as the three walked past them.
“Is that McGuire?”
“I thought he was exiled to the lower sectors…”
“Look at his lapel… he’s wearing the Mayfair crest. He’s the new Vice President.”
“And the child… wait… is that Lolleta Mayfair?”
“Did Sir Andrew accept them once again? What does this mean? Is Harry making a comeback to the elites now?”
Harry heard every single whisper, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth actively ached.
He didn’t look left or right.
He just stared straight ahead at the massive iron gates of the main campus.
Andrew tilted his head slightly toward him, his voice low enough that only Harry could hear it over the murmurs of the crowd.
“Look at them, Harry. They are terrified of you now. They don’t see a broken exile anymore. They see the shadow of the King standing right behind you, and it guards you from all of them.”
“Don’t be delusional. They only see a prisoner in a fancy uniform, Andrew,” Harry whispered back fiercely, his eyes burning behind his dark lenses.
“That’s all this is.”
“A prisoner with the power to burn down a Bishop’s house,” Andrew murmured as they stepped through the heavy gates into the bright morning sun.
“Remember your promise, Harry. We have a lot of work to do before we go back for your sister. But for now, just focus on settling here first, my love. We have so many memories to create as a family.”
Before Harry could even process the words, Andrew leaned down toward him.
He placed a soft, lingering peck directly onto Harry’s cheek, with Lolleta squeezed right in between them.
Andrew paid absolutely no mind to the hundreds of eyes watching them.
If anything, he wanted them to see it.
He wanted everyone to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Harry belonged to none other than him.
Harry’s face flushed with a mix of anger and shock.
He pulled back slightly, his voice a harsh, angry whisper.
“Stop doing whatever you please, bastard! Are you trying to cause gossip?”
“Too late. They already have,” Andrew chuckled softly.
Without giving Harry a chance to pull away, Andrew reached out and firmly grasped Harry’s hand, forcing their fingers to twine together as they walked.
The grip was tight, unyielding, and completely inescapable.
It felt like a shameless, public claim over him in front of the entire academy network.
Harry hated it.
He hated the looks, he hated the hand, and most of all, he hated how utterly powerless he was to stop it.
‘I hate him so much!!’ Harry thought, his heart hammering in his chest as he was dragged forward into the light.