Campus was buzzing.
Banners fluttered, rehearsals echoed from the auditorium, and the student forums were ablaze with predictions about who would come with whom. The Moonlight Gala wasn't just an event—it was a battlefield for beauty, class, power, and secrets.
Ochieng walked with a presence no one could replicate. Clad in a custom-cut obsidian trench coat and clean white shirt that clung to his sculpted chest, he seemed untouchable. Yet behind his unreadable eyes, thoughts swirled.
He hadn't spoken to Ivy since the lecture. And that silence… it wasn't just cold. It was burning.
He'd noticed how Clara suddenly began hanging around the tech hub more often. How Zahra flirted louder when he passed by. And how every guy in campus—rich or struggling—seemed to glance at Ivy with curiosity or hunger.
He hated it. And he didn't know why.
--
Ivy was sitting alone at the old library courtyard, legs tucked beneath her, rereading a borrowed philosophy book. Her clothes were modest, her hair tied carelessly, but there was something about the way she didn't care—that made everyone care.
She knew about the gala. She knew she wasn't expected. That's why she never planned on going.
Until a voice broke her thoughts.
"You're coming."
She looked up. It was Ochieng. No smile. No emotion. Just a command wrapped in a compliment.
"I'm not dressed for that world," she said.
"I'll take care of it," he replied. "Don't say no."
She stared at him for a moment. "Are you trying to make someone jealous?"
"I don't need anyone jealous," he replied coolly. "They already are."
She almost laughed—but she didn't.
He left without waiting for an answer.
-
The venue? The Wekesa Sky Hotel—the tallest, most extravagant structure in the city. Glittering chandeliers, champagne fountains, gold-trimmed staircases… it screamed luxury.
Zahra was glowing in an emerald satin dress with a slit that nearly cut to her thigh. Clara wore a red velvet ensemble with diamonds hanging like threats around her neck. Bianca, the queen of manipulation, arrived in a black gown so flawless it could blind.
But then the room shifted.
Gasps.
Phones raised.
Ochieng arrived.
And on his arm… was Ivy.
Only it wasn't the Ivy they knew.
She wore a midnight blue silk gown that wrapped around her body like it was made for her alone. Her makeup? Minimal, yet seductive. Hair? A soft bun with stray curls teasing her cheeks. Her eyes, lined in gold shimmer, held quiet defiance.
Even the richest girls looked poor next to her.
Bianca's champagne glass nearly cracked in her grip.
Zahra's lips parted, frozen.
Clara's smile died halfway.
And Ochieng? He didn't say a word. He simply walked with her through the crowd like a storm announcing its arrival.
---
They danced.
And when Ochieng spun her gently, Ivy caught the eyes of a mysterious man across the room. Tall, European-suited, confident.
He was watching her. And he wasn't just any man—he was Lucien Moretti, heir to Moretti Industries and silent partner of WekesaTech.
Bianca noticed him watching Ivy. Her chest burned.
Ochieng noticed too. His jaw tightened.
Ivy didn't.
Lucien walked toward her.
And suddenly, the room no longer belonged to one pair.
---
Meanwhile…
Outside the gala, an uninvited guest stepped out of a limo. A woman. Dark crimson dress, matching lips, skin like caramel gold. Her name? Sylvia Kemboi. Age: 27. Business heiress. Rumored to be Ochieng's ex.
She was here for two things:
1. To reclaim what she once had.
2. To destroy everything standing in her way.
And Ivy? Ivy was first on her list.
---