Saving the Villain

Days had passed in a blur for everyone. Cosette and her entire class got busy with their exams and endless reviews before that, hosting group reviews, and others performed seance to pray for a good outcome. Even though Cosette and Luke were confident, the atmosphere in their class gave off left this lingering worry in their hearts.

Everyone could only sigh in relief — or rather, some of them could only heave a sigh of relief after the last their of their exams, which was also the last week of their class before the school year ended.

Meanwhile, from the other side, Asher wasn't as busy as them. Or rather, he was busier, but for a different reason. His graduation was the least of his concerns, involving himself more in their family business and doing everything he could to secure his spot. He was more determined than ever, and many people noticed that.

And just like that, Asher's graduation rolled in.

[To: Cosette Blac

Are you coming? ]

Asher looked around the function hall where their graduation was being held. Despite the crowd, it was easier for him to search for Cosette because he slightly knew everyone's faces already. Everyone in this place was all people in the upper echelon — everyone was connected through business or other areas one way or another.

'She's still not here.' A shallow breath slipped past his lips, setting his eyes back on the stage where the headmaster was doing his speech. 'Not that I didn't see that coming.'

When Asher invited Cosette to come to his graduation, he wasn't expecting her to agree. After all, Asher believed he didn't have a proper moment where the two of them would be true friends. All the time he was with her, they would always bicker and agree to disagree on things. Other times, it was just awkward since Cosette was firm when she draw the line between them.

In other words, Cosette never truly gave Asher the chance she easily gave to everyone. Therefore, Asher wasn't expecting anything from her. Yet, he still asked her to come to his graduation despite that.
Asher's train of thought halted when the phone in his grip vibrated. He gazed down, a slight hope swirling in his heart.

[From: Cosette

Can I bring my friends? ]

"Friends…" he whispered and the first person who came into his head was Maxen.

Asher's jaw tightened as his hand shook slightly. He glanced at the person sitting beside him, and his gaze instantly landed on Maynard's side profile. His heart thudded with heaviness as his lungs mildly constricted, setting his eyes back to his phone.

His thumb hovered over the keys on his phone, typing a quick, 'no' but didn't send it. Asher deleted those two letters and just stared at his phone for a moment.

What should he say? Telling her "no" also meant "just don't bother then."

Asher didn't want that. He wanted Cosette to come.

[To: Cosette Blac

Whatever makes you happy. ]



Asher didn't think twice as he tapped send before he change his mind. As he waited for her response, he flinched when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" asked Maynard, raising his brows. "You look a little pale."

Asher's eyes shook for a moment before he forced a slight smile. "Of course. I'm just… nervous."

"Nervous? That's… a surprise." Maynard frowned, leaning back comfortably. "You should take a month's leave from work and chill. You deserve to rest from time to time, my son."

Oh, how Asher wished he could. However, Asher felt like he was running out of time. If he wouldn't work hard now and built his own connections, he was afraid that once the truth comes out, he would be left with nothing. He needed to rush things just so he could immediately prove himself worthy of being a Quinn.

"Don't worry too much, son." Maynard let out a deep exhale, detecting the reluctance in his son's eyes. He raised a hand and planted it on Asher's shoulder, nodding at him reassuringly. "Your father is still healthy and well. I'm not dying soon, so you don't have to pressure yourself. All I want is for you to be happy, hmm? So, just relax."

Maynard squeezed his son's shoulder so the latter could feel the warmth of his father and Maynard's sincerity. However, Asher might've smiled back, but his heart felt otherwise. Asher wasn't reassured even in the slightest. If anything, Asher only had one question in his head while staring at his father;

'Would you say the same if you find out I am not your son?'

When Maynard retrieved his hand from his son's shoulder, both of them gazed at the stage. As soon as their eyes landed on it, the headmaster announced the valedictorian and invited the most excellent student of the Academy to come up on the stage to give his speech.

A round of applause followed as their heads turned to the student, who rose from his seat. Smiles were plastered on everyone's faces, watching Asher carry himself with a respectable mien as he came up to the stage. No one showed even slight displeasure, as if they all accepted that Asher Quinn would graduate with flying colors.

Asher was a Quinn, after all. He was known to be the next patriarch, and it was no secret; he was close to perfection. A true Quinn.

Asher could see that as he approached the stage. The look in everyone's eyes, even the faculty staff and the headmaster as they shook hands. They all bore this sense of pride in their eyes, but they weren't looking at Asher as Asher and his achievements alone.

He could see in everyone's eyes that were screaming, 'a true Quinn.' Yet, Asher maintained a smile as he thanked the headmaster before standing before the lectern. His eyes glossed over the faces of the audience and his gaze lingered on where Maynard was sitting.

Maynard nodded at him reassuringly, wearing this proud grin and seeing his son stand there as the valedictorian. It was a normal reaction from a father, but Asher couldn't even enjoy this glorious moment. If anything, he felt sick to the stomach.

"I —"

As Asher was about to start his speech, his lips quivered and his voice was stuck to his throat. Droplets of sweat formed on his forehead, his back getting damped. His hand felt cold and his lips grew paler, barely keeping himself together.