THIS WAS THE MOMENT I'D BEEN DREADING FOR MONTHS.

Chapter 1

Aurelia

The acceptance letter felt like both a lifeline and a death sentence in my trembling hands.

Westridge University.

The words were embossed in gold lettering across thick cream paper that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

I traced the letters with my fingertip, my stomach churning with a mixture of dread and something that might have been hope if I'd allowed myself to feel it.

"You don't have to do this."

I looked up from where I sat curled on my window seat, finding my mother standing in the doorway of my bedroom.

Diane Sinclair looked elegant as always, her blonde hair swept perfectly, her designer pantsuit without a single wrinkle.

She looked like the kind of woman who had never felt anxious a day in her life, who had never understood what it meant to be afraid of the world.

"Yes, I do," I said quietly, looking back down at the letter. "We made a deal, remember? One year. If I hate it, you and Dad promised you'd never force me to face the world again."

My mother's perfectly manicured hand gripped the doorframe. "Sweetheart, we said that because we thought you'd realize you were stronger than you think. We never actually meant we'd let you hide away forever."

"I'm not hiding." The words came out sharper than I intended. "I'm protecting myself. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

I didn't answer. I turned to look out the window at the Los Angeles skyline in the distance, the city sprawling out like a glittering promise I'd never been brave enough to accept.

My parents had built their tech empire in this city, had conquered it with innovation and determination. They expected me to do the same, to walk out into the world with my head high and take what I wanted.

They didn't understand that the world had already taken everything from me.

"Aurelia." My mother's voice softened, and I heard her footsteps crossing my bedroom floor. The mattress dipped as she sat beside me on the window seat.

"I know what happened at Westridge Prep was terrible. I know those girls were cruel. But that was eight years ago. You're not that scared thirteen-year-old anymore."

I looked down at my hands, at the small scar on my left eyebrow where Victoria Ashford had shoved me into a locker door hard enough to split the skin.

The scar had faded over the years, but I could still feel it. Still remembered the blood running down my face while Victoria and her friends laughed.

"I'm exactly that scared thirteen-year-old," I whispered. "I never stopped being her. I just learned to hide better."

My mother reached out and tucked a strand of my dark auburn hair behind my ear.

It was a gesture of affection, but it felt distant somehow, like she was touching a stranger. We'd never been close, not really.

She and my father loved me in their own way, but they loved their work more. They loved success and achievement and the image of the perfect family they presented to the world.

They didn't know what to do with a daughter who was broken.

"One year," my mother said finally, standing up and smoothing down her pantsuit. "Give it one year, Aurelia. If you truly can't handle it, we'll honor our promise. But you have to actually try. No giving up after the first week."

"I'll try," I promised, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth.

She nodded and left the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

I listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway, listened to the heavy silence that filled the house. This massive, empty house where I'd spent the last eight years of my life barely living.

I looked down at the acceptance letter again. Classes started in three days.

Three days until I had to walk onto a university campus filled with people who would look at me and see exactly what Victoria had seen all those years ago.

Ugly. Fat. Worthless. Invisible.

I stood up and walked to my full-length mirror, forcing myself to look at my reflection even though it made my chest tight with anxiety.

I saw a twenty-one-year-old woman with pale green eyes that rarely met anyone's gaze, long dark auburn hair that hung limp around a round face, and a body that curved in all the wrong places according to every magazine and I*******m post I'd ever seen.

I saw everything Victoria had seen.

Everything that made me wrong.

I pulled my oversized hoodie tighter around myself, letting the fabric swallow my body.

This was how I survived. By making myself as small as possible, by disappearing into baggy clothes and hunched shoulders and lowered eyes.

By becoming invisible.

My phone buzzed on my nightstand, and I picked it up to find a text from my father.

Dad: Your mother tells me you're going through with the university plan. I'm proud of you, Aurelia. This is the first step toward building a real future.

I stared at the message, at the clinical way he phrased everything like I was a business project instead of his daughter.

I wanted to text back that I wasn't going to build anything, that I was just going to survive one year and then come home to my safe, quiet life.

But I didn't. I just texted back a simple "Thank you" and set the phone down.

Three days. I had three days to prepare myself for the worst year of my life.

......

The next three days passed in a blur of anxiety and packing.

I filled two suitcases with the baggiest clothes I owned: oversized hoodies, shapeless t-shirts, jeans that hung loose on my hips, sweatpants that hid every curve.

My mother watched with barely concealed disapproval as I packed, occasionally suggesting I bring "something nice" or "something that fits properly."

I ignored her. These clothes were my armor. Without them, I was exposed.

On the morning I was supposed to leave for campus, I woke up at four AM with my heart racing and my hands shaking.

I'd barely slept, plagued by nightmares of walking into a classroom and finding Victoria there, finding all of them there, ready to destroy me all over again.

I knew Victoria wasn't at Westridge University anymore. I'd checked obsessively. But the fear was still there, buried so deep in my bones that logic couldn't touch it.

I took a long shower, standing under the hot water until my skin turned pink, trying to wash away the anxiety.

It didn't work. Nothing ever worked. I'd tried medication, therapy, meditation, every coping mechanism my parents' money could buy. The fear always remained.

I dried off and dressed in my usual uniform: a grey hoodie three sizes too big, black leggings, and worn sneakers.

I pulled my hair back into a messy bun and looked at myself in the steamy mirror.

Invisible. Just how I needed to be.

My father was already gone for work when I came downstairs with my suitcases.

My mother was in the kitchen drinking coffee and scrolling through her tablet, probably reading the morning business news.

She looked up when I entered, and I saw disappointment flash across her face before she masked it with a smile.

"Ready?" she asked.

"No," I admitted. "But I'm going anyway."

Something softened in her expression, and for just a moment, I saw actual concern there. "You have your anxiety medication?"

"Yes."

"And you'll call if you need anything?"

"Yes."

"And you'll actually try, not just hide in your dorm room for a year?"

I hesitated, then nodded even though we both knew I was lying.

My mother stood and walked over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. She looked me directly in the eyes, and I fought the urge to look away.

"Aurelia, I know you don't believe this, but you're not the girl Victoria Ashford said you were. You're intelligent, you're capable, and yes, you're beautiful. The world isn't going to destroy you. You're stronger than you think."

I wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that eight years of hiding had somehow made me stronger instead of just more afraid. But I couldn't.

"Thank you," I said instead, because it was easier than arguing.

My mother drove me to campus herself, something that surprised me. Usually she was too busy for things like this, delegating them to assistants or drivers.

But today she insisted, and we made the hour-long drive from our home in the hills down to Westridge University in relative silence.

The campus was even more intimidating than I remembered from the virtual tour. Massive stone buildings that looked like they belonged in Europe, perfectly manicured lawns, students everywhere looking confident and beautiful and exactly like they belonged.

I didn't belong here. I knew that with every fiber of my being.

"This is it," my mother said as she pulled up to the freshman dorms. She turned to look at me, and I saw something in her eyes that might have been worry. "One year, Aurelia. Just one year. You can do this."

"I can do this," I repeated, though my voice shook.

I got out of the car and pulled my suitcases from the trunk. She didn't get out, didn't help me carry them.

She just watched as I struggled with the bags, watched as I kept my head down and my shoulders hunched.

"I love you," she called out the window as I started walking toward the dorm entrance.

"I love you too," I said, not looking back.

I heard her drive away as I reached the door. I stood there for a long moment, my hand on the handle, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

This was it.

This was the moment I'd been dreading for months.

Once I walked through this door, there was no turning back.

I had to survive a full year before I could go home and hide forever.

I took a deep breath, pulled my hoodie up over my head, and opened the door.