Chapter 12- One Vote Against

There are two kinds of power at Daxton:

The kind you take and the kind they let you think you’ve earned.

Sonia sat in the back of the morning business seminar, legs stretched under the table, black pen twirling between her fingers. She wasn’t listening. Not really.

The only thing playing in her head was Mavina’s voice from the night before:

“Someone in House Morvain voted against you.”

And not just that.

“We don’t allow traitors to live comfortably.”

It wasn’t just drama. At Daxton, being uncomfortable meant getting your room trashed, your grades tampered with, your name dragged through whispers until you were nothing but a rumor with a face.

After class, she moved like someone with a mission.

Quick. Precise. Calculating.

There were eleven members of House Morvain. Mavina, two twins from Beijing, the heir to a diamond empire, four second-year legacies, one secret transfer from Switzerland, and… Eric Blackbourne.

He didn’t speak much during the meetings.

But he watched.

Sonia spotted him at the fencing hall, alone, blade in hand. Sweat clung to his temple, his jacket hung half open, and his footwork looked sharper than usual.

She walked in and leaned on the doorway.

“Are you training or preparing for war?”

He didn’t look up.

“Same thing at Daxton.”

She stepped closer.

He finally stopped, straightened, and turned to face her.

“You didn’t come to practice yesterday.”

“Wasn’t in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood lately.”

She smirked. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

He set the blade down and walked past her to grab his water bottle.

“You’ve got everyone fooled,” he said. “The icy prince act. The disappearances. The secrets.”

“I’m not acting,” she said automatically.

He turned his head slightly.

“That’s what I said too. When I first started hiding.”

Sonia blinked. “What were you hiding?”

Eric took a long sip before answering.

“My father’s company collapsed two years ago. Embezzlement. Insider trading. Headlines. Disgrace. You name it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No one at Daxton does. Blackbourne money still looks clean here. But it’s borrowed shine.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m learning how to wear a mask that fits.”

Sonia swallowed hard.

“What about you?” he added. “You ever get tired of pretending?”

She hesitated. Then turned the question around.

“You ever get tired of being the only person who sees through me?”

He met her eyes.

"Every day.”

The silence was long, uncomfortable and soft.

Then Sonia said, too lightly, “You should probably stop following me everywhere.”

> “Maybe I would,” Eric said. “If you stopped acting like you wanted to be caught.”

Later that night, Sonia sat on her bed, the Morvain crest glinting on her blazer lapel.

She pulled out a sheet of paper and drew a circle.

Then she wrote down every House Morvain member.

One by one, she crossed out names.

Mavina? Too obvious. She needed Sonia for control.

The twins? Loyal to Mavina’s father. Wouldn’t risk internal rebellion.

The Swiss heir? Suspicious. But silent.

Eric?

Her pen hovered.

No. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

At exactly 11:30 p.m., Sonia’s tablet buzzed.

A message.

Anonymous, again.

“Check your closet. Second shelf.”

She stood, cautious.

Opened the closet.

Inside was a folded blazer.

But not hers.

A Daxton staff blazer.

With a key card tucked inside the pocket.

And a handwritten note:

“There are doors even legacies can’t open.

But staff can.”

"We voted you in for a reason, now earn your seat.”