8 [ Eloise's POV]

The voice that cracked through the room belonged to a girl too beautiful for her own good.

Long, wavy black hair framed her face and slid down her back, glossy as silk. Her skin was smooth, her features refined, and her uniform looked like it had been tailored just for her.

She didn’t shout again. She didn’t need to. Her presence alone was enough to hold the class in place.

The air shifted when she spoke, like the room itself recognized her authority. Even the laughter quieted, students straightening in their seats as though she had pulled invisible strings.

I knew every place had its own hierarchy—even this rich kid playground. And I knew immediately that this girl occupied a space high on that pyramid. She wasn’t just another pretty face.

She was a queen bee in the making, maybe already crowned.

“Ruby. Lindsay.” Her tone was smooth, almost kind. “Play nice.”

The room exhaled. Finally someone had come to stop what was most likely going to end with blows and slaps.

She had authority, yes—but not everyone obeyed.

Ruby, the tall tomboy, didn’t move out of my face right away. She leaned back in her chair instead, arms folded tight across her chest, her sharp eyes fixed on me like she was memorizing my face. Her smirk never wavered.

She wasn’t intimidated, not by Gabrielle’s words and definitely not by me.

Dominant. Dangerous.

Unbothered.

I was the only thing she gave her brain the chance to focus on, and the way she stared at me made it clear: this one was going to be a real problem.

Lindsay, the blonde, reacted differently. She scoffed loudly, flipping her hair in a practiced move before pulling a compact mirror from her bag.

She ran a fingertip over her glossed lips as though nothing in the world mattered except her reflection. Then she tilted the mirror slightly, catching my eye on purpose.

“If you say so, Gabby.” She smirked, snapping the mirror shut with a little click.

It was pure performance. A dismissal wrapped in femininity.

I remembered what Theo had told me earlier about cliques.

Yeah. These three girls weren’t random classmates. They were part of the same circle.

The black-haired girl—Gabrielle—walked toward me, her steps deliberate, unhurried. The sound of her heels against the floor echoed louder than it should have.

“I’m Gabrielle Mane,” she said when she reached my desk. “Class president. Welcome to Sophomore A.”

She extended her hand. Perfect nails, smile polished, the picture of composure.

I stared at it. Then at her. Finally, I sat down, opened my notebook, and wrote the first thing that came to mind: *Don’t trust any of these bitches.*

Her hand hung there for half a second too long before she let it fall. The smile stayed, but I saw the controlled rage flicker in her eyes as she turned away.

“Suit yourself,” she said lightly, and walked off like nothing had happened.

Ruby’s smirk deepened, like she approved of me refusing Gabrielle’s handshake. Lindsay blew a slow, exaggerated kiss at me and giggled to herself.

Yeah. Same circle. Different masks.

The girl next to me leaned in slightly, voice warm. She was pretty too, with delicate features and a scarf tied fashionably around her head. She was trying to be nice and probably faking it as well.

Even if she was not, I don't think I was in any mood to try and find out. I hada warned myself not to trust anyone here. This was not where I belonged and if I had any plans of making it out in one piece then I had to play smart.

“I’m Aisha Rakeem,” she whispered. “If you need—”

I flipped the page in my notebook.

She didn’t finish the sentence.

Good. At least one of these people knew to leave me the hell alone.

The rest of the day dragged, every laugh and whisper sticking to me like glue. By the time the bell rang, I felt like I’d carried the weight of the whole school on my shoulders.

I booked a taxi ride back to Tristan’s house; I wasn’t comfortable enough to call it home yet.

At the house, Alex tried to stop me in the hallway, tossing out a joke with that easy grin of his. I didn’t even slow down. Just brushed past him, my mood too heavy to let anyone in.

My room wasn’t as dark as I’d left it that morning. Marilyn had pulled the curtains apart to let the light in. The air smelled faintly of her perfume—soft, floral, grounding.

I sat on the bed, staring at nothing, letting silence press against me.

A knock. Then the door eased open.

Marilyn stepped inside. She didn’t ask permission; she didn’t need to. She carried a warmth with her that settled into the space before she even spoke.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

“Fine,” I muttered.

She studied me like she could see straight through the word. Then she came over, sat on the edge of my bed, and brushed my hair back from my face.

“I know today was hard,” she said. “It’ll get easier. And even if it doesn’t—” her voice thickened, more insistent—“you’re not alone anymore. You hear me?”

It was hard to believe that when I had always felt and still felt alone. And to make it worse, I’d just turned myself into enemy number one.

“I don’t know about all that.”

“Eventually, it will get easier to understand. You’re part of this family now, Eloise. We want you here. I’m glad you’re here.”

She pressed a kiss against the crown of my head, firm, certain, leaving warmth that stayed even as she stood.

“Thanks, Marilyn.”

“Rest,” she said gently, and left the room.

I sat there long after the door clicked shut, her words echoing in places I’d sworn were closed off.

They wanted me here?

We’ll see.