Perfect posture.
Thigh-high boots.
Hair like she stepped off a Burberry billboard.
She’s been at Royal Oaks for exactly two weeks and already managed to become the girl everyone whispers about.
And right now, she’s looking at me.
Lingering.
Assessing.
Hunting.
Bianca and Nadia aren’t far behind her, circling like wolves who smell something new bleeding.
I feel Tristan elbow me.
“Bruh,” he mutters, “she wants you.”
“Good for her,” I snap.
“Good for you,” he corrects under his breath.
I ignore him.
The bass thumps through the marble like it’s trying to shake the whole place loose. People dance in designer clothes that cost more than my first car. Champagne glasses clink. Cameras flash. Someone is filming a TikTok in the corner, lip-syncing about betrayal or glitter or whatever the algorithm needs tonight.
My skin crawls.
X returns with a second drink. “This place is obscene,” he mutters.
“So is everyone in it,” I say.
He gives me a look.
The kind of look that says: yeah, but these are our people, like it or not.
I want to burn the whole mansion down.
Because Jade is gone. Hurt. Hiding somewhere I can’t reach.
And these kids—these spoiled, vicious, untouchable kids—are celebrating like they didn’t just humiliate her in front of the world.
And maybe they’re right.
Maybe nothing will happen to them.
Maybe this is how it always goes.
But not this time.
Not if I can help it.
Vivian starts walking toward me. Slow. Confident. Eyes locked on mine like she’s already decided who I am to her.
Tristan mutters, “Incoming,” under his breath.
