Chapter 3

Marlowe’s POV

Three weeks later, I'd gotten used to staying close to Caspian.

In Ashford's library, afternoon sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colored shadows across the long tables. I sat beside Caspian, pretending to read while stealing glances at him.

"Marlowe, want to join our study group?" Caspian closed his economics textbook and turned to me.

My heart raced. A study group meant deeper access to him—and more surveillance opportunities.

"Can I?" I feigned hesitation. "I'm just a scholarship student..."

"Don't say that." Caspian cut me off. "You're smarter than most people here."

His words made my cheeks burn. But guilt quickly overwhelmed that fleeting sweetness.

The study group met in a private library room. Besides Caspian, there were three other boys: Marcus, Theodore, and Sebastian. All heirs to elite families.

"Everyone, this is Marlowe." Caspian introduced me.

The three nodded politely but distantly. I could feel their scrutiny and skepticism.

"Heard you're on scholarship?" Marcus asked casually. "Impressive."

It sounded like praise, but I caught the sarcasm underneath.

"Her grades are better than all of yours," Caspian said coldly.

The atmosphere tensioned instantly.

"Just curious," Marcus shrugged. "Ashford scholarships are pretty rare."

"Especially the charity kind," Theodore added with obvious contempt.

My fists clenched, but Caspian spoke first.

"Enough." His voice was calm but intimidating. "If you don't want to study, you can leave."

"Alright, alright, let's start." Marcus raised his hands. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

For the next two hours, I forced myself to focus on the material, but their words kept echoing in my head.

Charity scholarship.

That label was branded on me like a scar, constantly reminding me of the gap between us.

After the session ended, the others left gradually. Caspian packed his books, seeming to wait for something.

"What are you thinking about?" he suddenly asked.

I startled. "Nothing."

"Don't mind what they said." Caspian stepped closer. "You're far more interesting than they are."

My heart raced again. Why did he always protect me like this?

"Actually, they're right. I really am different from you all," I said, looking down.

"So what?" Caspian's tone was firm. "Birth doesn't determine a person's worth."

I looked up at him, suddenly noticing the pain in his eyes when he said that.

"I thought people with noble backgrounds like yours wouldn't understand us," I replied with self-deprecation, my head dropping unconsciously.

Caspian was quiet for a long time, then said, "Want to see my private lounge?"

I nodded, both excited and nervous. This was a good chance to gather more information. Mrs. Aldridge had been pressing me several times, always dissatisfied with what I reported. But all I did was study with Caspian daily—nothing special.

He led me through several corridors to a room I'd never seen. Opening the door revealed an elegantly furnished lounge with a crackling fireplace and leather sofas that gave off a subtle fragrance.

"Sit," Caspian gestured to the sofa.

We sat facing each other, the atmosphere suddenly intimate.

"Do you know why those people look down on you?" Caspian asked suddenly.

"Because I'm poor?"

"No, because they're afraid." A flash of irony crossed Caspian's eyes. "They're afraid that someday, people like you will surpass them."

I looked at him in confusion.

"In this circle, bloodline is everything," Caspian continued. "If you weren't born with a silver spoon, you're forever second-class."

"But you're an Aldridge..."

"Bastard," Caspian interrupted, his voice bitter. "I'm a bastard, Marlowe."

My mind went blank.

What?

Caspian wasn't Mrs. Aldridge's biological son?

Then why did she want me to spy on him? If she wasn't his real mother, why care about his school activities?

Unless... unless she had other motives.

"You look shocked," Caspian said with a bitter smile. "Think I'm pathetic?"

"No, not at all." I shook my head quickly, but my thoughts were in chaos.

"In the world of the wealthy, bastards are stains," Caspian's voice was soft, but each word cut like a knife. "They think we're impure, just products of lust, unworthy of this wealth."

I wanted to comfort him, but words stuck in my throat.

"My birth mother is dead," Caspian's voice grew softer. "She was murdered."

I gasped. "Murdered?"

"I don't know how," Caspian looked toward the fireplace, flames dancing in his pupils. "But I'm going to avenge her."

My hands started trembling. Who would kill a bastard's mother?

"Marlowe." Caspian turned to me, his eyes more serious than I'd ever seen. "I need to know you're on my side."

"I... of course," I stammered, but my heart was in turmoil.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

A text message.

Mrs. Aldridge: Wait for me in the backyard tonight when you get home.

I nearly dropped my phone.

"You okay?" Caspian asked with concern.

"Fine, just a message from my mom." I tried to sound normal.

But inside, I was completely shattered.

Caspian trusted me, told me his biggest secret, even hoped I'd stand by him.

But I had to report this information to someone who might hurt him.

What was I? A traitor? A spy?

"I should go," I stood up, my legs weak.

"Alright, you should head back."

We never went home together, to avoid being seen by his father or others.

Walking home, I kept replaying our conversation.

Caspian was a bastard.

His mother was murdered.

He wanted revenge.

At nine PM, I appeared in the backyard on time.

The black car was already waiting, engine quietly running. The window rolled down, revealing Mrs. Aldridge's refined face.

"Get in." Her voice was as elegant as always.

I opened the door and sat across from her. The car was filled with expensive perfume, suffocating.

"Tell me your observations from these past few days," Mrs. Aldridge got straight to the point.

I took a deep breath and began my first real betrayal.

"Caspian's performance at school is average," I tried to keep my voice steady. "His grades aren't great, and he skips classes often."

This was a lie. Caspian's grades were shockingly excellent.

"What about friendships?"

"He doesn't have many friends, keeps to himself, doesn't socialize much."

Another lie. While Caspian was indeed lonely, it was because of others' prejudice, not his personality flaws.

"Any unusual behavior?" Mrs. Aldridge's eyes bored into me. "Like investigating something, or searching for something?"

My heart nearly stopped.

She knew. She knew Caspian was investigating his mother's death.

"No, he just attends classes normally," I struggled to stay composed.

Mrs. Aldridge was silent for several seconds, then said, "You're lying."

My blood froze.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You better understand what I mean." Mrs. Aldridge leaned closer, dangerous light flashing in her eyes. "Because your mother still needs this job, needs health insurance, needs to survive."

A threat.

"I understand," my voice trembled.

"Good." Mrs. Aldridge settled back into her seat. "Next time, report the truth. I need to know his every move, every detail."

"But... why?" I couldn't help asking. "He's your... your..."

"He's what?" Mrs. Aldridge sneered. "My son? Don't be naive, child. Blood relations don't mean everything."

The car door opened, and I was silently "invited" out.

Standing in the dark backyard, I watched the car disappear into the night, my whole body shaking.

Not from cold, but from fear.

I finally understood.

Mrs. Aldridge wasn't caring for Caspian—she was surveilling him.

And I had become her accomplice.