Semua Bab The She Billionaire In Boy’s Blazer: Bab 11 - Bab 20

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

Everyone at Daxton plays a role. But only the Cartel decides the script. Sonia stared at the message on her desk like it was a match poised over a gas leak. “The Cartel meets again. Bring the photo. Don’t be late. North Clock Tower. Midnight.” No signature. No name. Just that ominous symbol again: Half a crown. Half a dagger. Now with a falcon in chains. She touched the image carefully, tracing the sharp lines like they might cut her fingers. This was no longer about who sent her the staff blazer or who voted against her in House Morvain. This was bigger. It was Cartel-big. And someone had just invited her into the lion’s den. 10:12 PM — The Dorms Sonia paced her room like she was wearing grooves into the carpet. Her mind was running circles. Was this a trap? A test? Or had she crossed a line she didn’t even see? The photo of her and Silas was tucked safely behind her binder. It burned against her like a brand. The evidence that he might still be alive—or someon

Secrets don’t stay hidden at Daxton.They get dressed up, polished, and announced on stage.Sonia gripped the printed Gala list until her knuckles whitened. Her name—Sonia Vale—was printed in bold type, right under the Daxton crest.Not Silas.Not “S. Vale.”But Sonia.Her body went cold.If that list was read aloud at the October Gala, Daxton’s most public, most photographed event—she was finished. She wouldn’t even need to be exposed. The announcement would do it for her.Her secret would end with a spotlight and a round of applause.---She took the stairs two at a time and stormed into the West Archives. The scanner didn’t recognize her card anymore—probably because of the student ID she snapped during the Morvain challenge—so she rerouted through the east-side laundry chute.She landed with a thud and a grunt inside the faculty records hallway.Her shoulder ached, but she didn’t stop.The Gala logistics files were kept in the backroom safe, according to Silas’s old map. She knew

The hardest part of a lie isn’t telling it.It’s surviving the moment someone starts to believe the truth instead.---Sonia sat on the windowsill in the common room, knees pulled to her chest, staring out at the campus like the answers were hiding in the dark corners between lamplight and ivy. Her Gala speech was now less than a week away, and Daxton’s golden stage was already being built, an altar dressed in glass and tradition.And she was the sacrifice.Every word written for that speech felt like a coffin being nailed shut.Legacy.Loss.Leadership.The kind of themes Daxton loved. The kind it used to bury truths in silk and sparkle.But none of it meant anything if they called her name.If they called Sonia Vale.She reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out the copy of the leaked article. She hadn’t meant to keep it, but some bruises deserved to be stared at until they healed. The side-by-side of her and Silas still made her chest twist. Maybe not because it was wrong.B

At Daxton, silence rarely meant safety.It meant something was watching you decide how loud to be.The morning after the speech, Sonia expected fallout. Repercussions. Summons from Claire. A fresh round of rumors, maybe even a headline like:“Vale Legacy Melts Down On Stage.”Or worse:“Girl in Boy’s Blazer Admits It All.”But there was nothing.No disciplinary summons.No Cartel invitation.No Mavina gloat.Just a soft, manufactured quiet that made Sonia feel like she was standing in the eye of something much, much bigger.Even Eric seemed cautious, walking beside her on the quad with his hands deep in his coat pockets like he didn’t want them to shake.“You made waves,” he said, voice low.“I didn’t say anything they couldn’t already guess.”“That’s what makes it dangerous.”She looked at him.“You’re not scared of me now?”He smirked. “I’m scared for you.”And then he laced his fingers through hers. Right there. In the open.That simple, shameless act felt louder than her whole spe