chapter 3 " Beneath the marble "

Greg Carter’s laugh echoed down the corridor like the sound of polished cruelty. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It carried weight—the kind that silenced conversations and twisted stomachs.

He walked down the hallway like he owned it, flanked by Ferdinand—his ever-grinning sidekick with the loud voice and louder ego—and Leo, who trailed slightly behind with a frown carved into his face.

Ahead of them stood a girl—cute, shy, and clearly cornered. Tessy. Her cheeks flushed pink as she clutched her books tighter, trying to squeeze past them toward the lockers.

But Greg stepped in her path, casually holding out an arm.

“Well, well,” he said, that amused smirk dancing on his lips. “If it isn’t Brentford’s cupcake queen.”

Ferdinand snorted. “Careful, Carter. She might crush your shoes if she breathes too hard.”

Greg smirked wider. “Relax, Tessy. We’re just admiring your... gravitational pull.”

Tessy flinched. Her smile cracked. She didn’t reply—she never did. She’d learned to laugh softly at herself to make them go away quicker.

But Leo shifted uncomfortably, his voice hesitant. “Guys, come on. That’s enough.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “Don’t go soft on us now, Leo.”

Greg’s eyes flicked to his friend. “Unless there’s a reason you’re defending her?”

Leo’s face reddened. “Just drop it.”

Tessy looked down, lips trembling. And then—

A sharp voice cut through the tension.

“Move.”

Greg turned just in time to see her. Helena.

Her blazer was slightly wrinkled, her curls tied up tight, her eyes burning. She pushed between the boys without hesitation and reached for Tessy’s arm.

“She said nothing to you. So unless your ego’s hungry enough to survive off bullying girls, I suggest you get out of her face.”

Ferdinand stepped back, startled. “Who invited the scholarship hero?”

Greg’s smirk faded—just slightly. “Interesting. Didn't think you'd play the savior today, James.”

Helena didn’t blink. “Didn’t think I’d meet someone so obsessed with humiliating girls to feel important.”

Greg leaned forward, his voice low. “Careful. You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

Helena’s gaze stayed steady. “No, Carter. I know exactly who you are. A bored, bitter boy with too much money and not enough heart.”

A crowd was forming, silent and eager.

Greg’s jaw tightened. “You keep talking like that, and Brentford’s going to eat you alive.”

“And yet here I am,” Helena snapped, “still standing.”

She turned to Tessy, gently placing a hand on her back. “Come on.”

Tessy hesitated, still frozen in disbelief. But Helena gave her a reassuring nod and led her away, her shoulders straight, her steps firm.

Greg didn’t follow. But his eyes did.

He watched them until they disappeared around the corner, something unreadable flickering behind his cool exterior.

Inside the girls’ locker room, Helena finally exhaled.

Tessy sat down on the bench like her legs were giving out.

“Are you okay?” Helena asked, kneeling beside her.

Tessy nodded quickly, wiping at her eyes. “I’m fine. I just… I didn’t expect anyone to—thank you.”

Helena offered a small smile. “You shouldn’t have to expect kindness. Especially not here.”

Tessy gave a shaky laugh. “You’re brave. Most people here wouldn’t even look Greg Carter in the eye.”

Helena shrugged. “He bleeds like the rest of us. He just hides it better.”

Tessy stared at her a moment, then extended her hand.

“Tessy Vanti.”

Helena blinked. The name rang faintly. “As in… Vanti Shelters? The estate company?”

Tessy smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. My dad owns it.”

Helena laughed softly. “Great. So I just dragged a billionaire’s daughter away from a billionaire’s son. This place really is something.”

Tessy grinned now, visibly lighter. “You’re Helena, right? The new girl?”

“Scholarship girl, outsider, target. Take your pick.”

“Well,” Tessy said, standing straighter, “I’d like to add ‘friend’ to the list, if that’s okay.”

Helena blinked—caught off guard for the first time that day. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They shared a smile. A rare one. The kind that felt like it might survive Brentford’s cruelty.

Outside, the bell rang again, pulling them back into reality.

But as Helena walked beside Tessy through the halls, she didn’t feel invisible anymore.

And somewhere down another corridor, Greg leaned against the wall, arms crossed, replaying every word Helena had thrown at him.

No one talked to him like that.

No one challenged him that way.

And for the first time in a long while... he didn’t feel bored.

He felt interested.

And that was dangerous.

For both of them.

The second bell rang, sharp and echoing through the tiled halls of Brentford Academy. Tessy jumped to her feet, smoothing her skirt and grabbing her lunch bag.

“Let’s go have lunch,” she said, smiling tentatively at Helena. “And don’t worry—it’s not cafeteria food. I get meals delivered.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Perks of billionaire status?”

“Perks of surviving this place without saltless mashed potatoes,” Tessy said with a wink.

They walked together toward the courtyard, sunlight slanting through the high windows. The marble gleamed beneath their shoes, and Helena couldn’t help noticing the looks they got—curious, skeptical, a few openly hostile. One girl with sharp eyeliner and a tighter uniform than the handbook allowed whispered something behind her hand as they passed.

“Don’t mind them,” Tessy muttered. “They’ll gossip about anything that breathes differently.”

Helena tried not to let it bother her. She was used to whispers. But something felt different at Brentford. It wasn’t just social hierarchy—it was warfare. Smiles could be weapons. Friends could be bait.

They reached the courtyard and slipped into a quiet stone alcove behind a hedge wall. A picnic basket rested on the bench—Tessy’s driver had dropped it off, apparently—and Helena was surprised to find roast chicken sandwiches, fruit tarts, and chilled hibiscus tea waiting.

“I feel underdressed for this meal,” she joked.

“Then don’t tell me you brought crackers and Capri-Sun,” Tessy shot back.

Helena laughed—genuinely this time—and for a brief moment, things felt normal.

But elsewhere, things were far from it.

In an upstairs lounge that only the elite had access to, Greg stood by the window, watching the girls through the glass. His arms were folded, jaw set. Ferdinand lounged on the leather couch nearby, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“You’re quiet,” Ferdinand said. “Plotting?”

Greg didn’t answer immediately.

“She embarrassed you,” Leo muttered from the back corner, not looking up from his phone.

“She didn’t embarrass me,” Greg said coolly.

Ferdinand chuckled. “Greg, she called you a bitter boy with no heart—in front of half the year.”

Greg’s jaw ticked, but his eyes stayed fixed on the courtyard.

“She’s new,” he said, voice low. “Doesn’t know the rules yet. Someone should teach her.”

Leo finally looked up. “You’re seriously going to start a war with her?”

“No,” Greg said simply. “I’m going to remind her who she’s dealing with.”

Ferdinand leaned forward, grinning. “What’s the plan?”

Greg turned, eyes cold and calculated. “If she wants to be the hero, then let’s see how long she lasts when people start turning on her. Start with whispers. Maybe a fake rumor or two. Something soft.”

Leo frowned. “This isn’t like the others.”

Greg ignored him.

“She thinks she can walk in here and play white knight?” he muttered. “Let’s see how bright she shines when the lights go out.”

Back in the courtyard, Helena was finishing her sandwich when her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number:

Lunch by the hedge? Cute. You’re brave. Or stupid. Maybe both.

She showed it to Tessy.

“Who the hell is that?” Tessy asked, scowling.

Helena shook her head. “No idea. But they’re watching.”

Tessy leaned back. “This place is like a haunted mansion disguised as a school.”

Helena pocketed the phone and sighed. “Do you think Greg’s behind the messages?”

“I don’t know,” Tessy said. “He has the resources… but this feels sneakier. Greg’s more direct. This? This is layered.”

Helena sipped her tea slowly, her mind already piecing together the warning note, the stares, the texts.

“I think,” she said carefully, “Greg is just the surface. There’s more going on under all of this. And someone doesn’t want me to dig.”

Tessy tilted her head. “Then maybe don’t?”

But Helena’s expression hardened. “Too late.”

From the top floor window, Greg watched her tuck the phone away, saw the way she leaned into the conversation, saw that she wasn’t scared.

She was curious.

And Greg Carter had learned one thing about people like her—curiosity could be fatal at Brentford.