CIERA'S POV
The Smith estate was already buzzing before sunrise. As always, the house was alive with movement—my brothers shouting across hallways, the clatter of breakfast dishes, and the low hum of engines being warmed up. Though the Smiths dominated business in the South of Country M, our house was planted right in the heart of the city, surrounded by others just as powerful. We didn't flaunt our status, but it showed—in the details. A high-end watch here, a barely-there silver chain there. Our style was sharp, subtle, and unmistakably expensive.
I tied the last loop of my ponytail, grabbed my strawberry milkshake from the kitchen counter, and watched the organized chaos unfold. Despite the image outsiders had of the Smiths being raised on discipline, the truth was different. Our parents didn't hover. They didn't care where we were as long as they knew. Freedom was a given; it was what we did with it that made us dangerous.
"Are you done staring or should we twirl for you?" Aaron, the oldest, raised an eyebrow.
I smirked and took a loud sip of my milkshake. "Please. I'm just wondering how the world hasn't been taken over by the A-team yet."
Aaron grinned. "One day."
My brothers: Aaron, Alec, Aiden, Arlo, Adrian, August, Abel, Anders, Alric, and little Asher. Eleven of us in total. I was number eleven—the only girl—and I made sure they never forgot it. I was proud of my name. Proud of what it meant to be a Smith.
"Lisa!" I called, just as the door opened.
Lisa popped her head in, strawberry-glossed lips and waves bouncing. "Don't tell me you're leaving without me."
"Wouldn't dare," I said, looping my arm with hers.
Lisa had lived with us since middle school, and honestly, I couldn't imagine life without her. She was the kind of person who brought chaos and comfort in the same breath. The rest of our crew—Rose and Nikki—would meet us at school. All four of us, back for the start of our final year.
Anderson High was built for excellence. Founded by Peter Anderson, the school had earned its spot as the top private institution in Country M. Red-brick buildings stood side by side across a wide, neat campus. The classrooms were spacious, and the school boasted facilities for nearly everything: advanced science labs, media rooms, a giant gym complex, club wings, and most importantly—the Court.
The Court was Anderson's pride. A fully-equipped indoor stadium where basketball gods were made, and legends played. It was the home of the Anderson Alphas, the reigning kings of high school basketball.
Students crowded into the main hall, a large modern auditorium where the welcome assembly was being held. Lisa and I found Rose and Nikki already inside, waving us over with huge grins.
"Tell me the Alpha are in here already," Rose whispered, eyes scanning the crowd.
Lisa giggled. "I'm hoping for Asher or maybe Luke."
Nikki groaned. "Forget them. I want Alexander Wilson. There's something about the whole 'leave-me-alone-or-die' vibe that just does it for me."
I rolled my eyes. "Please. He's all looks and no charm. I'd rather date a cactus."
Lisa leaned closer. "You two still at war?"
I scoffed. "What war? I just happen to hate arrogance. And he happens to be the human form of it."
The murmur died down as Principal Celeste Anderson stepped up to the podium. She looked every bit the regal leader: her graying hair coiled in a sleek bun, eyes sharp, and her tailored suit pristine.
"Good morning, students," she said, voice crisp and powerful. "Welcome to another year at Anderson High. Whether you are returning or new, know this—you now carry a legacy. My grandfather built this school not just on education, but on excellence. And we expect no less from each of you."
She paced slowly. "This is not a place for scandal, shortcuts, or mediocrity. Our reputation is not a costume—it is a crown. Wear it properly."
A hush fell over the room.
"Be bold. Be exceptional. But never be reckless. I am watching. And more importantly—so is the world."
A brief pause, then applause filled the hall.
As we filed out of the auditorium, I could already feel the shift. Senior year had officially begun.
I checked the class lists outside Homeroom 4A. My name stood out easily: Smith, Ciera.
But right next to it? Wilson, Alexander.
"Oh, for crying out loud," I muttered.
Nikki peered over my shoulder. "Fate is playing games with you."
I stepped into the classroom, and there he was. Sprawled in the chair next to mine, legs stretched out like he owned the room, hoodie under his blazer, and earbuds in like he couldn't care less. His uniform was rumpled, hair perfectly tousled like he just rolled out of a Calvin Klein ad. He didn't even glance at me.
I dropped into my seat, pulling out my notebook with a loud thud.
Nothing. Not even a blink from him.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Just what I needed—Anderson High's golden boy with a superiority complex."
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, unbothered. I caught the faint scent of vanilla and musk—probably some overpriced cologne.
He looked away like I didn't exist.
Good. Because I had no intention of playing nice either.
Senior year had officially started. And if Anderson High thought things were going to be smooth between me and Alexander Wilson?
It had another thing coming.