EPISODE 1-Where it begins

Milan didn’t whisper.

It announced itself.

Luxury cars slid across polished streets like they owned the night. Designer stores glowed under golden lights. Laughter spilled out of rooftop parties where champagne flowed like water and reputations were built just as fast as they were destroyed.

At the center of it all stood Vittorio Emanuele Elite Institute, a university that didn’t just produce graduates.

It produced power.

If you studied here, you weren’t ordinary.

You were legacy.

Money.

Influence.

Or all three.

Alessia Moretti didn’t belong here.

And she knew it.

She adjusted the strap of her worn-out bag as she stepped through the massive iron gates, her eyes instinctively lowering as a sleek black Maserati sped past her.

No one walked here.

They arrived.

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

“Just focus,” she murmured.

Scholarship students didn’t get second chances

Across campus, attention gathered like gravity.

Because he had arrived.

“Lorenzo!”

“Over here!”

“Look at me!”

Girls leaned over balconies, phones already out, voices layered with excitement.

Lorenzo De Santis didn’t rush.

He never did.

Dressed in effortless luxury white shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, confidence stitched into every step he walked like the world adjusted itself around him.

Football captain. Heir to a business empire.

Untouchable.

He glanced up just once, offering a lazy half-smile.

That was enough.

Screams.

Laughter.

Chaos.

Lorenzo smirked faintly.

Same reaction.

Every time.

Boring.

Stupid bitches.

“Try not to break too many hearts today.”

The voice came from beside him.

Marco Leone, leaning casually against a pillar, sunglasses hiding his amusement.

Lorenzo didn’t even look at him.

“No promises.”

Marco chuckled. “One day, someone’s gonna mess you up.”

“Doubt it.”

Arrogance?

No.

Certainty.

Meanwhile

From the far edge of the courtyard

Alessia watched.

Not openly.

Never openly.

Her gaze flickered up, then down, then back again stealing moments like they were something forbidden.

There he was.

Closer than ever before.

Real.

Not just someone she saw from a distance.

Her fingers tightened around her notebook.

Don’t stare.

She looked away quickly.

Then, slowly…

Looked back again.

“You’re doing it again.”

The voice was quiet. Flat.

Right beside her.

Alessia startled, nearly dropping her notebook.

“W-what?”

Adriano Bianchi didn’t move much.

He stood slightly behind her, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but his eyes…

His eyes noticed everything.

“You’re staring,” he said simply.

“I’m not,” she replied too quickly.

Adriano tilted his head, studying her like a pattern he’d already solved.

“You’ve looked at him six times in the last thirty seconds.”

Her cheeks burned. “Why are you counting?!”

“Because you’re predictable.”

There was no mockery in his tone.

Just truth.

And that somehow made it worse.

Alessia looked away, forcing a small frown.

“You’re weird.”

Adriano didn’t react.

His gaze shifted past her.

To Lorenzo.

Then back to her.

“She doesn’t belong here.”

The thought crossed his mind, silent but sharp.

And yet—

She was the only thing worth noticing.

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