The Lakeside Academy bell chimes, signaling the end of the school day. A wave of kids in matching uniforms rushes out, shouting and laughing, their backpacks bouncing. Parents gather in clusters—athleisure moms clutching iced coffees, buttoned-up dads scrolling through emails.

Then— A matte black Maserati SUV rolls up to the curb, smooth as a shadow. The other parents barely turn their heads at first—until the doors open.

BILLIE (23, 5'3, toned, with the energy of someone who wins arguments just by standing there) steps out first. She’s in black slacks, a silk button-up, and a blazer that screams money—but it’s the way she moves, slow and calculated, that makes people uneasy. A single gold ring gleams on her finger as she adjusts her sunglasses.

From the driver’s seat, GRACIE (early 25, all curves and diamonds, the kind of woman who can make a threat sound like a compliment) emerges with the ease of someone who’s never been late for anything in her life. She checks her lipstick in the side mirror, then tosses her Hermès bag over her shoulder.

A silence ripples through the other parents. The moms pretend to be deeply interested in their conversations. A dad suddenly finds his car tires fascinating.