I Thought Zane's Cousin Is Ugly

The heavy oak door of the lecture hall clicked shut behind Serena, cutting off the suffocating murmurs and the stifled, pathetic sounds of Marcella’s manufactured weeping. The corridor stretched out before her, bathed in the sharp, clean light of the afternoon sun filtering through the tall arched windows. Serena took a slow, steady breath. The air out here tasted crisp, a stark contrast to the cloying, tense atmosphere she had just left behind. She walked with an even pace, her flats making quiet, deliberate sounds against the polished marble floor.

Behind those doors, she knew exactly what was happening. In a matter of mere minutes, Marcella had undoubtedly cemented her role as the tragic, victimized heroine. Armed with crocodile tears and a practiced tremble in her voice, her sister was busy painting Serena as the wicked, ungrateful interloper. The narrative was predictable yet effective: Serena was the vicious thief who had maliciously stolen eighteen years of a comfortable, luxurious life, only to treat the true heiress with heartless cruelty. The easily swayed classmates, blinded by imported coffee and a theatrical display of vulnerability, were likely already labeling Serena a toxic woman.

Let them. Serena felt a profound sense of detachment. The character assassination occurring behind the closed doors meant nothing to her now.

She calmly followed her counselor, Mr. Graves, down the long hallway. The older man walked half a step ahead, periodically glancing down at the meticulously prepared student file in his hands. When he looked back up at her, his posture shifted, adopting a polite, almost deferential demeanor.

"Ms. Sterling," Mr. Graves began, his voice dropping to a respectful volume. "I must say, we are thrilled to have you here. Your mother is a renowned opera singer and a distinguished alumna of our institution. It is a genuine honor for Cranston University's theatrical arts department that you chose to study with us."

Serena kept her expression neutral, her voice steady. "The honor is mine, sir. Coming to Cranston University to study has always been my personal dream. It has nothing to do with my mother's legacy."

Mr. Graves smiled, nodding along. "Of course, of course. Still, if you ever need any assistance adjusting to campus life, please feel free to come to me." He paused, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle as he tapped her file. "Though, what am I saying? Your father is a prominent member of our school's board of directors. There is likely very little a humble counselor like me can actually do to help you."

He clearly grasped the immense influence of the Sterling family. In Kingsport’s business world, Arthur Sterling was a titan, and Diana Caldwell was a cultural icon. With that kind of backing, Serena could have easily demanded the royal treatment, strutting through the campus with her chin raised, untouchable.

Serena stopped walking. She looked directly into Mr. Graves' eyes, her tone firm and unyielding. "I am here to study strictly as an ordinary student. Sir, please do not give me any special treatment. It would be strange and unnecessary. I want to earn my place here just like everyone else."

Mr. Graves blinked, clearly taken aback. He stared at the young woman standing before him. Students hailing from affluent families usually went out of their way to notify the administration of their VIP status before they even set foot on campus. Just earlier today, he had dealt with the Voss family's daughter from Oakhaven—Marcella—who had arrived eager to flaunt her wealth, passing out expensive gifts and making a grand, desperate spectacle of her status.

The contrast was jarring and incredibly refreshing. Serena’s genuine desire to keep a low profile spoke volumes. In that brief exchange, the counselor's professional impression of her soared.

"I understand," Mr. Graves said warmly, a genuine smile replacing his previous deferential mask. "I respect that decision, Serena. I will not disturb your peace any longer. But if you need anything, even just a student to show you around the sprawling campus to get your bearings, let me know."

Before Serena could respond, the quiet murmur of their conversation was interrupted by the confident, rhythmic cadence of footsteps approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Speak of the devil," Mr. Graves said lightly, his gaze shifting past Serena’s shoulder. He raised a hand. "Gideon, come over here for a moment."

Gideon.

The name sent a phantom jolt through Serena’s veins, freezing her in her tracks. Her breath hitched in her throat, catching on the sudden, intrusive flood of memories. She slowly turned her head, her eyes tracking the movement down the hall.

There he was.

Gideon Adler, the eldest son of the prestigious Adler family, walked toward them. He was dressed impeccably, exuding the effortless, natural charisma of a rising star. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, every step showcasing the undeniable presence that would soon make him a household name.

In her previous life, Gideon had been her very first crush. Not just a passing infatuation, but a profound, silent devotion. She remembered the freshman orientation vividly—the exact moment she had first laid eyes on him, feeling that terrifying, exhilarating rush of first love. As a senior in the theatrical arts department, he was a legend in the making. He debuted shortly after, his first film catapulting him to instant fame and earning him a sweep of prestigious awards. She had admired him from afar, watching his star rise while she struggled in the harsh reality of the entertainment industry. She had dreamed of sharing a screen with him, hoping that one day, her hard work would earn her a spot by his side, even if it was just a minor role.

But Marcella had ruined it all.

Serena’s jaw tightened as the pieces of her past life clicked into place. Marcella had debuted the following year and somehow miraculously secured the female lead role right alongside Gideon in her very first drama. It was the exact role Serena had been vying for. The public ate it up. They became an on-screen golden couple, their chemistry praised by critics and fans alike. Then came the orchestrated 'accident'—Marcella posting a scandalous, intimate photo of her and Gideon in bed on Facebook. The internet broke. Gideon, playing the part of the honorable gentleman, bravely stepped forward to admit their relationship, making them the ultimate power couple of the industry.

Serena had never told a single soul about her feelings for him. Yet Marcella had known. In this new life, Serena realized the truth: Marcella had also been reborn. Armed with future knowledge, Marcella had ruthlessly and systematically schemed to steal Gideon away, knowing exactly how bright his future shone and exactly how much it would hurt Serena.

Facing the undeniably handsome senior in the flesh right now, Serena braced herself for the familiar ache. She expected the sting of betrayal, the flutter of old longing, the bitter regret of what could have been.

She searched her feelings.

Nothing.

She stood there, staring at his perfect, chiseled face, and felt a profound, echoing emptiness. Her heart remained perfectly still. The desperate longing that had once consumed her days and nights was gone, burned away by the fires of her past life's tragic end. He was just a man. A man who had been easily manipulated into Marcella's bed. He was no longer the shining idol on a pedestal; he was just another ghost from a timeline she had left behind.

Serena calmly averted her gaze, her expression turning into a mask of cold detachment.

"Mr. Graves," Gideon greeted as he reached them, his voice smooth, carrying that signature welcoming tone that made fans swoon. He had the kind of voice designed for a microphone.

"Gideon," Mr. Graves smiled cheerfully. "Serena, this is your senior, Gideon Adler. He is one of our most prominent student leaders here in the theatrical arts department. Since we bumped into him, it is perfect timing. Gideon, do you have some time to personally show our new student around the campus?"

Gideon stopped a few feet away. His sharp, dark eyes drifted toward Serena. He took his time, his gaze sweeping over her fair neck before settling on her delicate, flawless profile. A faint, appreciative light danced in his eyes.

"Hello," Gideon said, offering a practiced, charming smile.

Serena ignored his greeting. She did not blink. She did not offer a polite nod. She kept her gaze locked strictly on Mr. Graves, treating the famous senior standing next to her as if he were nothing more than a coat rack.

"It is alright," Serena stated coldly, her voice devoid of any warmth or hesitation. "I can explore on my own. There is no need to trouble him."

Mr. Graves opened his mouth to protest, but Serena cut him off.

"I will be leaving now. Thank you for your time, Mr. Graves."

Without offering Gideon a single backward glance, a smile, or even a moment to respond, she turned on her heel. Her white dress flared slightly as she pivoted, and she walked swiftly down the corridor, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Gideon stood frozen in the hallway, his charming smile faltering slightly. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where she had just stood, then followed her retreating figure until she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

In all his years at Cranston, no one had ever brushed him off with such freezing indifference. Let alone a freshman.

"Mr. Graves," Gideon murmured, his voice losing a bit of its polished veneer. "Is she in your class?"

"Yes," the counselor replied, watching the empty corner. "She is a new student. And she comes from quite an influential background."

Gideon’s eyebrows rose. He found himself standing in the hallway, deeply fascinated. A girl with a massive backing who clearly wanted nothing to do with him, who looked at him with eyes as dead as winter.

This new student is fascinating, Gideon thought, a smirk slowly returning to his lips. He suddenly found himself looking forward to the freshman orientation in the afternoon.

Pushing through the heavy glass doors of the administrative building, Serena stepped out into the warm embrace of the afternoon sun. The bright light forced her to squint for a second. She exhaled a long breath she did not know she was holding, letting the tension of the lecture hall and the ghost of her past crush dissipate into the crisp air.

However, her moment of peace proved short-lived.

Looking down the wide, tree-lined campus pathway, she spotted four imposing figures approaching with purposeful strides. They moved like a unified force, parting the sea of students around them simply by existing.

Leading the pack was Kaelen, his hands shoved nonchalantly into the pockets of his dark trousers. Flanking him were Silas Croft and Roman Mercer, two prominent figures who practically radiated wealth and arrogance. But the loudest of the bunch was the man walking on Kaelen’s left, wearing a casual brown baseball jacket.

Zane.

He was gesturing wildly, a visibly panicked expression plastered across his face.

"Kael, seriously, what does my cousin really look like?" Zane chattered incessantly, his voice carrying down the pathway, laced with genuine, unfiltered anxiety. "You didn't actually just leave her behind on the street, did you? Tell me you didn't just ditch her!"

Kaelen kept his gaze forward, his face a mask of cold indifference, offering no response.

"Oh no," Zane groaned, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly ahead and then falling back into line. "How on earth am I going to explain this massive screw-up to my old man tonight?! He is going to kill me. What was I thinking? I shouldn't have asked you to pick her up. It is my fault, it is all my fault."

Roman tossed his head back and laughed openly, mercilessly mocking his friend’s breakdown. "She has definitely been left behind. Zed, you are such a fool. How could you ask Kael of all people to pick her up? Did you guys make some shady, last-minute deal just to pick up a girl?"

Zane’s head snapped toward Roman, acting strangely defensive as he tried to cover his tracks. He knew Kaelen was famously intolerant of trivial errands. "Rome, what do you mean by that? Am I someone who would do such a thing? Though, honestly, if Kael wants a favor like that in return, I will just put up with it to save my own skin..."

"That is enough." Kaelen’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

He shot Zane a single, sharp look, swiftly shutting the banter down. There was no shady deal. Zane had simply whined and begged Kaelen for hours until the taller man finally relented just to shut him up.

The group continued their approach, Roman still chuckling under his breath while Zane muttered anxious prayers to himself.

As they drew closer to the administrative building, Kaelen’s intense, dark gaze lifted. His eyes locked directly onto Serena standing alone by the stone steps, her crisp white dress catching the sunlight, the gentle breeze playing with the hem.

She stood still, watching them approach, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the sudden shift in Kaelen’s demeanor, Zane, Roman, and Silas followed his line of sight.

The moment their eyes landed on Serena, they froze in their tracks.

The loud, obnoxious banter died instantly. The pathway seemed to fall silent. Roman’s mocking smirk vanished, replaced by slack-jawed awe. Silas stopped mid-step, his eyes widening. They were paralyzed by the ethereal, gorgeous girl standing silently before them. She looked like a painting brought to life, her delicate features illuminated by the sun, radiating a quiet, untouchable grace.

Wow, Roman thought, his mind struggling to form words. The new female students this year are insane. She is gorgeous.

Zane blinked. Once. Twice. Clueless as ever, he tore his eyes away from the stunning girl and looked around the empty courtyard, scanning the area behind Serena.

Breaking the heavy silence, Zane turned to Kaelen, his voice tight with lingering panic. "Kael, should we just stand around and wait for her here? Maybe we arrived too early, and my cousin hasn't come down yet? Do you think she is still in the lecture hall? We should go look for her before she gets lost!"

Kaelen stopped walking. He stood firmly on the pathway, his hands still casually resting in his pockets. He looked at Zane, then shifted his dark, unreadable gaze back to Serena.

He stated with flat, undeniable finality, "She is right in front of you."

The words hung in the air.

Zane, Roman, and Silas froze in a state of sheer, paralyzed shock.

Their jaws practically hit the floor as they slowly, mechanically turned their heads back to the angelic, stunningly beautiful girl standing on the steps. They stared wide-eyed, unable to fathom or process the reality crashing down on them.

This breathtaking vision of a girl? The one standing there looking like royalty?

This was Zane's supposedly hideous, unpresentable cousin?