I fish out my notebook, find a blank page, and write down everything that happened. Every face, every line, every moment. I document it like a scientist taking notes on a plague.
When I’m done, I set the notebook aside, lie back on the mattress, and let my hair dry against the pillow. I don’t sleep, not really, but I let my eyes close, and I picture each girl, each laugh, each flash of the camera.
If this is their ritual, fine. But I’m not their sacrifice.
Tomorrow, I’ll show them what I’m made of.
The next morning, the story is everywhere.
The halls are filled with the sound of a video, the laughter, the champagne cork. Opening my Academy email on my phone, I see the attachment fromUnknown Senderand sigh before opening it. It’s already been edited, soundtracked, captioned. I watch it in silence, earbuds in, as my face stares back at me, soaked and shaking, the blood-red dress ruined. The comments are cruel, but I’m numb to them.
I go to class. I take notes. I walk the halls with my head up, and I make sure to sit in the front row, even when the space around me is a dead zone.
At lunch, I eat in the main dining hall, ignoring the stares, the whispers. I finish every bite, then linger for a long, slow drink of water, eyes locked on the center table where Vivienne and her pack sit. She glances over, once, then again. Our eyes meet. She raises her glass, just a fraction, in mock salute.
I raise my water back, never looking away.
The day grinds on, but I keep moving, keep showing up. The humiliation doesn’t fade, but it stops mattering. Every time I see the video on someone’s phone, I look them dead in the eye, daring them to say something. None of them do.
That night, I walk the quad again, boots crunching on the brittle grass. The air is clean and sharp, no trace of champagne left.
By the time I go back to my room, the red dress is dry, its color even deeper. I put it in the closet, front and center, a flag of what they tried to do.
I sit at my desk and open my notebook to a new page.
The first line writes itself: “Not broken. Not even close.”
I close the book, knowing that someone, somewhere, is watching.
Let them.
Chapter 4: Colton
Afterlastnight’svideohit my phone, rage had poured from me. So I decided to do the only thing I can right now.
Research the new board members and see how I can topple their empire.
And the library archives is the best place to find that information.
Julian already has four volumes open on the glass-topped table. He’s cross-legged in a leather armchair, reading the way some people smoke: slow, drag, flick. His uniform is flawless—charcoal blazer, starched shirt, everything tailored almost tootight around his muscles. Even his hair is perfect, dark curls tamed with gel.
He doesn’t look up as I pace the shelves, scanning the spines. He knows I’m running hot, that my jaw is locked so tight it’s a question whether it’ll crack or hold.
“I didn’t think the party would get to you,” Julian says with his usual snark. “It’s not like you to care about the Board’s little amusements.”
I ignore him. I find the ledger I’m looking for: Board disciplinary actions, pre-1900. Somewhere in here is a list of old money funders and other elite families ‘just in case.’ I snap the cord, flip to the marked tab, and start reading.
He turns a page, the sound exaggerated in the silence. “Or maybe it’s not the party, hmm?”
I don’t answer.
Julian finally looks up, eyes like a wolf’s, amber and curious. “You want to tell me what’s so fascinating about the girl? Because I’d love to watch you try to explain it.”
I turn another page. “Stay out of it.”
He laughs, just loud enough to echo. “There’s nothing to stay out of. The girl’s a nobody. Your father would kill you if he knew what you were on about. She won’t last in our circles, and sheknows it. But you—” He leans forward, elbows on knees, mouth curving. “You want her to.”
I set the ledger down, flat palms, and look at him. “The Board is hiding something. You said it yourself. Every year, same bloodlines, same rituals, and now they push a Scholarship through. Why? It’s unlike them to have this many charity cases in one year. In fact I think this is the first year we’ve had more than three.”
