STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: OF BROKEN CROWNS, BAITS SET, AND THE TACTICIAN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: OF BROKEN CROWNS, BAITS SET, AND THE TACTICIAN WHO NEVER FORGOT

Bianchi's POV

They all act like this school is untouchable. Supreme Allievo Academy—the perfect kingdom. Khaizer Dylan Dela Vega's little kingdom.

But kingdoms fall. And when they do, it's never the enemy at the gates that destroys them. It's the rot from within. The whispers no one notices. The hand that opens the door when the wolves arrive.

I'll be that hand.

I sat in my room—no, my throne—bathed in the cold glow of my screen. Same chair. Same view. Same ache in my chest. The only thing missing now was Dylan.

I hated myself for rejecting him. I thought he'd circle back. After all, who else could tolerate him? His sharp words. His cutting silences. His storm of a personality. Everyone else flinched. I didn't. I'd been at his side since grade school, always in the same class, always standing shoulder to shoulder with him in a world that didn't understand him.

I thought that made me irreplaceable.

When he confessed, I said no. Not because I didn't care. But because Dylan made me feel safe. Too safe.

And I was stupid enough to believe that safety was a cage.

I thought real ambition meant reaching for the fire, not the hearth. I wanted danger, not peace. So I pushed him away, thinking he'd pull me back.

But he didn't. He didn't argue. Didn't ask why. Just turned and walked away. Not completely—he never severed the thread between us. I still saw him. Still worked beside him. Still thought I mattered. I didn't realize the only reason he kept me close was because I was his Vice President. An asset. Not a partner.

The realization came like a knife in the ribs. And the blood was my own fault.

Now?

Arielle Rylance Del Rio.

The girl with the sarcastic voice that cuts through the air like she's too bored to care. The girl whose silences feel heavier than her words. The girl who stands still while the rest of us claw at each other—and somehow, that stillness draws him in.

She has everything I threw away. His attention. His trust. The version of him I broke.

And the worst part? She doesn't even try.

She didn't seduce him. Didn't parade herself around. Didn't plot. She just... existed. And suddenly, the whispers were hers.

Top one. Celestine Princess. Dylan's date.

And me? Not just forgotten—erased.
Replaced.

But here's the thing about crowns: It's not enough to wear one. You have to survive it.

If she wants the crown I forged with my own hands, the one I bled for—
Then she's going to have to bleed harder.

I clenched my jaw and typed the message, every letter a poisoned blade.
"That breach at Supreme Allievo—staged, wasn't it? Don't worry. Your secret's safe. For now."

Let's see how the Prince of Celestine reacts.

Xythe Nathaniel Alcantara.
Her ex-boyfriend. Her childhood friend.
The perfect crack in her royal mask.

I hit send.
"I'll help you get the girl," I whispered to the screen, lips curling into a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Only because she's standing where I should be."