The morning sun sliced across the courtyard, glinting off rows of glass windows and casting fractured light on the school's stone paths. Students clustered in tight knots, voices hushed but urgent as they scrolled through the latest headlines flooding their phones. The air buzzed with an undercurrent of nervous thrill, a tension sharp enough to taste.
Lottie leaned casually against a railing on the second-floor balcony, one ankle crossed over the other, a faint breeze lifting strands of her dark hair. Her phone buzzed relentlessly in her pocket, each vibration a pulse of momentum she could feel in her fingertips, like a drumbeat threading through her nerves. She drew it out, thumb brushing the screen as she scrolled through headlines: "Evelyn Hayes: Campus Queen or Charity Faker?"; "Top Scorer Lottie Whitaker Shakes the Throne"; "Leaked Photos Reveal Staged Volunteer Work?" The words blurred together, sharp and brilliant as broken glass.
The corners of Lottie's lips curved ever so slightly, a cool satisfaction tightening in her chest. But beneath the thrill was steel. This wasn't victory—it was just the first crack. A flicker of breath escaped her, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh, as she slid her phone back into her pocket.
Leo's voice drifted toward her, low and amused. "Enjoying the view, princess?"
She glanced sideways as he sauntered up, phone in hand, his messy hair catching the sunlight in tousled bronze glints. His grin was lazy, but his eyes glinted with sharp interest. "I assume you had something to do with this?" he murmured, showing her a screenful of furious comments under Evelyn's carefully curated PR posts.
"Maybe," Lottie murmured, fingers brushing absently along the cool metal of the railing. "Or maybe people just don't like being lied to." The words slid from her lips soft as silk, but beneath the calm, her pulse beat quick and bright.
Down in the courtyard, Evelyn emerged from the administration building, flanked by two of her PR handlers. Her face was the picture of composed grace—shoulders back, chin high—but Lottie saw it. The flicker at the corner of her mouth. The tautness at the edge of her smile. The quick, too-sharp scan of her eyes across the crowd, as if measuring the ground beneath her feet for cracks.
Lottie felt the buzz of tension hum through her skin as Evelyn turned slightly, murmuring sharp instructions to the handlers at her side. One of them—nervous, pale—nodded too quickly, nearly dropping a clipboard. Evelyn's fingers twitched, knuckles whitening as she reached out to steady the papers, her smile never faltering. It was a performance down to her fingertips, but the mask was slipping. Lottie could feel it like the sharp edge of a blade in the air.
"Text from Mason." Leo's voice cut in, sharper now. He leaned close, his breath brushing the delicate curve of her ear. "Evelyn's team paid off three student reporters. He says we can link it."
Lottie's heart jumped, a fast thrum under her ribs. Her fingers curled briefly against the railing, the cool bite of metal anchoring her. "Good," she whispered, voice low, eyes glinting. "Let's push it."
Leo's grin curved wider, wolfish, as his thumbs flew over his phone.
Lottie's eyes swept the crowd. Amy stood near the edge, shoulders hunched, watching Evelyn with a stricken expression. Her hands twisted the strap of her bag, fingers white-knuckled, and when Evelyn's eyes briefly flicked toward her, Amy flinched back as though scorched. A knot pulled tight in Lottie's chest, a strange blend of pity and calculation. Amy was shaking on the edge, teetering, and all it would take was the right word, the right push.
A sudden murmur rippled through the courtyard. Students gasped softly, phones lighting up in their hands as a new headline dropped: "Exclusive: Behind Evelyn Hayes' Glamorous Facade—Manufactured Charity Photos, Anonymous Source Confirms."
A tremor passed through Evelyn's poised figure, so slight most would miss it—but Lottie saw. The faint sag of her shoulders. The muscle flickering at the corner of her jaw. The sharp pivot as she barked a command to her handlers, her fingers digging into the edge of the clipboard as if she could will the story to vanish.
"She's feeling it now," Leo murmured, sliding his phone into his pocket. His voice brushed soft against her ear, a dark purr threaded with satisfaction. "She's got her claws in that PR team, but they're bleeding for her already."
"Let them bleed," Lottie murmured, her voice low and sharp as a blade, her fingers curling tighter around the rail. A gust of wind whipped through the balcony, cool and biting, tugging at her hair.
In the media room below, a wave of laughter rippled as students scrolled through the flood of influencer reactions. Snarky videos, edited clips of Evelyn's tearful charity pleas, mocking memes—all spreading like wildfire, a storm she could no longer control.
Lottie's phone buzzed again. She slipped it free, glancing at the screen. Mason:Invitation confirmed. You're on the guest list for the charity gala. Dress sharp.
Her mouth curved, a slow pull of satisfaction curling at the edges. Evelyn might have owned the stage before, but Lottie was coming for her crown—and now the spotlight was shifting.
As if sensing the gaze burning into her back, Evelyn turned—eyes sharp as cut glass, locking on Lottie across the courtyard. Their gazes collided, the air between them crackling like a live wire stretched to snapping.
For one heartbeat, neither girl moved.
Then Evelyn's mouth curved into a brittle, beautiful smile—the kind that didn't reach her eyes, the kind honed on magazine covers and staged interviews. She lifted her chin, spun on her heel with surgical precision, and vanished through the archway.
"Classic retreat," Leo murmured, looping an arm casually around Lottie's shoulders. She let him, though her body remained taut, the pressure coiled tight in her chest. "Don't get too smug yet, Whitaker. Cornered animals bite."
Lottie's voice was soft, but steel-threaded. "Good. I want her to."
⸻
That night, in the privacy of her room, Lottie sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop glowing in the dim light. Her phone lay beside her, buzzing softly every few minutes. On the screen, Leo's messages scrolled past in a steady stream: Reporter #2 admits payout traced to Evelyn's fund.Anonymous confirms photos doctored.Mason: Proof ready. Let me know when to leak.
Lottie's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Her shoulders ached from holding tension all day, her chest tight with the strain of restraint, the ache of exhilaration burning just beneath the skin. She exhaled slowly, the breath shuddering faintly as she pressed her palms against her thighs, grounding herself in the cool press of fabric.
On her nightstand, the anonymous letter waited, its red string a stark slash across white paper. She traced it with her fingertips, the edge of the envelope rough against her skin, the weight of its unspoken promise heavy in the room.
Her phone buzzed. She snatched it up, heart leaping in her throat.
Amy:We need to talk.
The breath caught sharp in her chest. For a long moment, she stared at the screen, pulse flickering fast under her skin. She could almost feel Amy's voice, the tremble behind the words, the fear and guilt coiling like a knot between them. The room felt smaller suddenly, the glow of the laptop too bright, the air too still.
A knock at the door jolted her. She tensed, half rising—but it was just Leo, slipping inside with a quiet smirk and two cans of soda dangling from his fingers.
"Thought you might want backup," he murmured, nudging the door shut with his foot. His grin softened as his gaze swept over her, catching the flicker in her eyes, the tight set of her shoulders. "That bad?"
Lottie's fingers tightened around her phone. "Amy just texted." Her voice was low, rough-edged, the words scraping slightly as they left her throat.
Leo's brows lifted, his grin sharpening into something edged. "Oh."
The air between them pulsed, thick with unspoken understanding.
"She's cracking," Lottie murmured, voice so soft it was almost a breath. "I just need to catch her before Evelyn does."
Leo leaned against the wall, cracking open one of the sodas with a soft hiss of carbonation. "Then let's make sure you do." His voice was calm, easy, but his eyes were sharp, watching her with the steady focus of someone who knew exactly when to push and when to hold back.
Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the window, a whispering pulse threading through the night. Lottie's fingers hovered over her phone again, heart hammering hard enough to make her ribs ache.
Lottie:Name the time. I'll be there.
She hit send.
The message blinked away, the screen fading to black. For a moment, Lottie sat very still, hands loose in her lap, breath soft and unsteady. The weight of the night settled on her shoulders, pressing cool and heavy, but beneath it, something fierce sparked to life, burning steady and bright.
Across town, Evelyn Hayes stared into her mirror, flawless lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, a glass of untouched wine trembling faintly in her hand.
And in the soft dark of her room, Amy watched the headlines flicker across her phone, fingers trembling as the war she'd tried to avoid crept ever closer to her door.