Not Her Prince Charming
Ann McBrown moved through the sea of students like a ghost slipping beneath waves—unseen, unfelt, unnoticed.
Growing up in the Little Saints Orphanage had its share of advantages and disadvantages. Being the smallest child among the rest often meant she was forgotten, overlooked. But sometimes, that worked in her favor. She was only seven months old when she was abandoned at the orphanage’s gates.
It was a story she’d been told so many times, in such vivid detail, that she could recite it step by step by now. Sometimes, it almost felt like she remembered it herself. She left the system that abused her since she learned how to talk immediately she turned seventeen years old. She raised herself working odd jobs and living on handouts.
The hallway was nearly empty—quiet in the way a storm is before it breaks. Ann McBrown moved like a shadow between the rows of lockers, head down, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of another day. Her cracked phone buzzed uselessly in her palm. She liked these moments—when no one looked. When she could pass through the world unnoticed.
She didn’t see him.
Not until it was too late.
Until she turned the corner and collided with a wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall.
It was a boy. A young boy her age or maybe a bit older than her.
Her books spilled all over the floor. Her balance wavered. She braced for the floor with her eyes shut tightly—until a hand caught her elbow with cool indifference, as if it were a reflex, not a favor.
“Watch it,” the boy snapped at her angrily, stepping back like she’d dirtied him.
Ann looked up—and met a storm.
He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Built like someone who knew the world bent for him. Raven-dark hair fell in tousled waves across his forehead, and his eyes—cold, silver-gray—narrowed at her like she was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“I—You ran into me,” she said, breathless.
He gave her a once-over. Slow. Disinterested. Disgusted look.
“No,” he replied, voice clipped. “It’s your fault, you got in my way.”
Ann blinked. Her spine straightened. “Sorry my lord, I didn’t know the hallway belonged to you.” She stated sarcastically, looking at the mess around her.
That earned a humorless chuckle from him. “Everything else does. Why not this too?”
Before she could reply, he bent down—not to help, but to pick up the worn notebook at her feet. He flipped through it casually, his fingers barely touching the edges as though the paper might stain him.
“This is yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously? People still use these?”
She reached for it. He didn’t hand it over immediately. He raised it so high, she couldn’t reach it.
“Let me guess,” he said coolly, eyes sweeping from her scuffed sneakers to her threadbare sweater. “Are you studying here on a scholarship?”
Her jaw clenched. “Give it back.”
He smirked, finally releasing it into her hands like he was doing her a favor. “Relax. I’m just trying to figure out how someone like you got into this place.”
“Someone like me?” she echoed, voice tight.
He nodded once. “Invisible. Unimpressive. Wears thrifts and not designers. Broke.”
Something burned behind her eyes, but she didn’t let it show.
“You’re not as important as you think,” she said evenly, brushing past him.
But he didn’t move. He watched her with that same icy detachment. “We’ll see.”
And then he turned and walked away, leaving nothing behind but the scent of expensive cologne and a lingering sting that settled deep in her chest.
She didn’t know who he was.
That boy wasn’t just trouble—
He was the kind of chaos that left bruises no one could see.
And Ann knew, with cold certainty,
He was someone she never wanted to share a space with again.
Let alone an atmosphere.
She sighed as she reached her locker, the kind of sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep, like it was carrying the weight of her entire life. She twisted the lock open, about to place her books inside, when she was shoved hard from behind. She cussed under her breath, falling down twice this morning wasn’t something she was looking forward to.
Her body tilted dangerously forward, and her heart lurched—until two tiny hands caught her just in time.
Mocking laughter followed behind her, the squeals and high-fives of Avirina and her plastic entourage. Their taunts bounced through the hallway like secondhand perfume—loud, artificial, and impossible to ignore.
Ann didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn. She didn’t give them the satisfaction. She already knew who was responsible for it.
Her jaw clenched as she thought bitterly, 'If not for those helping hands, I would’ve fallen straight to the floor… maybe cracked my skull. But who could save me with getting into trouble with Avirina and her friends? I don’t have many friends who will be willing to risk it like this, just Judith'.
Before she could turn to thank her rescuer, a familiar voice cut through the noise—low and brimming with frustration.
“Ann, I don’t know why you put up with that self-proclaimed queen bee and her minions. You’ve never wronged her. But every single day since the first day of college, she and those sluts torment you everyday.”
Ann turned just on time to see Judith standing behind her, arms folded, eyes glaring daggers at the retreating backs of Avirina and her gang.
Ann smiled faintly and let Judith help her back onto her feet. “Don’t let them get to you. You know… in my twenty years of life, I’ve been through worse. What they’re doing now? Just child’s play. It doesn’t even shake me.”
Judith scoffed, brushing imaginary lint from Ann’s shoulder. “You always say that—‘I’ve been through worse’, but you never tell me what you’ve been through. We’ve been friends since the first day of college, Ann, and I still don’t know what you’ve actually been through.”
Ann’s smile didn’t waver, but it didn’t reach her eyes anymore. There were some stories even the closest of friendship couldn’t touch. “It’s not important,” she said softly. “Come on, let’s get to class. We need to study hard if we want a future. Girls like Avirina? Their futures are already laid out for them. Rich parents. Fancy cars. Gold-plated last names. You still have your family, but… your family’s worth is like an ant compared to theirs. Me? I have no one. Just this mind. We have to work twice as hard to shine.”
Judith rolled her eyes but followed her friend toward the lecture hall. “You make a valid point, but damn it still pisses me off.”
By the time they reached the classroom, the professor was already at the podium, glasses perched low on her nose, going over notes. The lecture hall buzzed with chatter, but quieted slightly when the girls entered.
Ann could feel the stares like pins against her back. Whispers followed her, the familiar melody of mocking tones and sneers—an unwelcome soundtrack she’d grown used to over the years. But she didn’t react. She walked straight to the back and pulled Judith along with her.
They slid into the last row, the furthest point from anyone important. Ann pulled out her worn notebook and a pen with faded blue ink. Around her, tablets and sleek laptops flickered to life like tiny cityscapes. But Ann doesn’t care, she was used to this too.
Halfway into the lecture, something shifted in the air. The door creaked open and the professor paused mid-sentence.
Principal Deborah entered, her heels tapping authoritatively against the polished tile.
“Attention, students,” she said, voice too cheerful to be apologetic. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a new student joining us today.”
Ann glanced up, already disinterested, but something about the glint in the principal’s eyes made her curious. The woman looked excited—as if she were announcing a celebrity, not just a transfer student. They’ve all heard the story of a new transfer student. She knew he had to come from a very rich family to be available to transfer into the school mid-semester but still had no idea who he was.
“Rex Radford has been enrolled in our school by his father, Alfred Radford.”
The name dropped like a pebble into still water—and the ripple was immediate.
Excitement exploded across the room. Girls gasped, scrambling to fix their hair, smooth their shirts, and swipe on lip gloss. Laughter, whispers, and shrieks of recognition filled the space. The boys looked mildly annoyed, like they already knew this guy would be trouble.
Ann tilted her head, blinking. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She turned to Judith.
Her friend was fluffing her curls and reapplying tinted lip balm with trembling hands.
Ann’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Jud? Are you seriously doing what they’re all doing?”
Judith groaned and nearly smacked her forehead. “I’m guessing you don’t know who the new transfer student is. I mean, your TV’s older than Moses, so I’m not even surprised, but come on Ann! Rex Radford is the Rex Radford. Son of Alfred Radford—tech mogul, billionaire, owns like half of the country’s economy. Even the Daily magazine featured him on their cover yesterday!”
Ann’s expression didn’t change. “And?” She asked.
Judith gave up, slumping dramatically. “You are a hopeless case. I give up!”
The principal called for silence again. “Everyone, please be respectful. Here he comes. Make him feel welcome and at home.”
The door opened—and he walked in—and the air changed.
Him.
The same boy from the hallway.
The one who looked at her like she was beneath him. The one who held her notebook like it might stain his hands. The one who made her feel small with nothing but a mere glance.
Ann’s heart sank. Her stomach turned. This school just got a lot smaller and he was the last person she ever wanted to see again.
But then, of course it has to be him.
He just so happened to be the new student and she had already made an enemy out of him.
Every breath in the room stalled. The energy shifted in an instant, like the oxygen had been sucked out and replaced with something heavier, more electric.
Ann blinked slowly in disinterest. Judith clutched her arm.
“Don’t tell me you seriously don’t know who he is,” Judith hissed at her.
Ann looked over at her with a frown. “Should I?”
Judith nearly fainted with disbelief. “He’s literally one of the richest heirs in the country. Paparazzi, parties, scandals—you seriously live under a rock.”
Ann shrugged with a scoff. “More like behind on rent.”
His eyes swept over the crowd with slow disinterest, like none of this mattered to him. His eyes found hers but she ignored him and turned away. He was perfection wrapped in danger—storm-gray eyes, a faint scar above one brow, lips that didn’t smile often but when they did… the world tilted.
Ann felt the weight of every girl’s gasp, every boy’s glare, every unspoken desire coiling around him like vines.
Ann stared at him, unimpressed. She didn’t feel what the other girls felt when they saw him.
No butterflies.
No heart skips.
But she did feel a lot of dislike for him.
To say he was handsome felt like calling the ocean “wet.” His beauty wasn’t soft—it was sharp. Chiseled cheekbones, a jawline you could cut glass with, thin but expressive lips, and a faint scar above one brow that made him look like he’d stepped out of a dark fairytale.
But more than that—it was his presence.
He didn’t demand attention. He didn’t have to, he was the attention.
And everyone else responded instinctively. Girls adjusted their posture. Boys straightened their backs, sizing him up. The silence was awkward and too reverent.
Ann studied him with narrowed eyes.
Yes, he was attractive.
Yes, he had that effortless power woven into his stride.
Yet to Ann, he was nothing to write home about.
