CHAPTER 2

The next morning, the heavy mahogany doors of the lecture hall felt more like the gates of a courtroom.

Antonia took a deep breath, clutching her backpack straps tightly, and stepped inside. The lively chatter that usually filled the room instantly died down.

A heavy, suffocating silence blanketed the classroom.

Antonia walked down the aisle, trying to maintain her usual gentle smile, but the atmosphere was freezing. As she approached her usual row, the friends she had laughed with just twenty-four hours ago suddenly looked busy.

One locked her eyes onto her phone, another quickly placed her designer tote bag on the empty chair beside her, and the rest looked away, completely ignoring her existence. The black card’s curse had officially begun.

With a tight throat, Antonia walked toward the very back of the hall and found an isolated desk.

The true storm hit the moment she pulled out her chair. A loud, wet squish echoed through the immediate area. Antonia froze. Someone had smeared thick, sticky blue acrylic paint all over the seat.

A few snickers broke out in the front rows.

"Oh, look, the freshie wants to match her cheap clothes with some color," a voice whispered from the darkness of the tiered seating.

Before Antonia could even process the mess, a sudden splash of ice-cold water drenched her from behind. She gasped, shivering as the water soaked through her uniform shirt and dripped onto her notebook.

Standing on the stairs above her was one of Portia’s loyal minions, holding an empty plastic cup with a mocking smirk.

"Oops, my hand slipped," the girl sneered, loud enough for the whole class to hear. "Just thought you needed to wash up since you love making messes in the cafeteria."

Laughter erupted across the lecture hall, sharp and cruel. No one stepped in. No one offered a tissue. Antonia stood frozen in her soaked uniform, her heart pounding against her ribs as she realized just how lonely and brutal her new reality was going to be.

Antonia felt the ice-cold water dripping down her neck, but instead of the tears everyone expected, a spark of pure determination lit up her eyes. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, she squeezed the excess water from her hair, squared her shoulders, and turned around to face the girl who had thrown the water.

The laughter in the room began to falter under Antonia's calm, steady gaze.

"If your hand slips that easily, you might want to see a doctor," Antonia said, her voice remarkably clear and devoid of fear. She stepped closer to Portia's minion, looking her straight in the eye.

"Because running away from a mess you made is a terrible habit. But then again, I guess you only do what Portia tells you to do."

The girl’s mocking smirk instantly vanished, her face flushing with embarrassment as the rest of the class went quiet, shocked by the freshman’s unbroken spirit.

Before the confrontation could escalate, the heavy classroom doors swung open. The sharp, rhythmic clicking of heels echoed through the room as Professor Santos stepped inside, her stern eyes scanning the lecture hall.

"Settle down, everyone. Take your seats," Professor Santos commanded, placing her leather briefcase onto the podium.

Antonia had no choice. With no time to change or clean up, she had to endure the two-hour lecture sitting in her soaked, freezing uniform at the back of the room.

Every gust of wind from the air conditioner sent a violent shiver through her body, and the damp fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin.

Yet, throughout the entire class, Antonia kept her chin up, taking notes diligently with a steady hand, proving to everyone watching that a little water wouldn't be enough to break her.