Evangelina Royal—Marymount’s golden girl. The school’s crown jewel, the untouchable saint, the nepo baby with everything. Money, beauty, a reputation made of gold. Just like her twin brother, Evan Royal. But unlike him, she’s vicious. A devil in designer. A liar, a sadist, a girl with a perfect smile and a sharper tongue. She’s everything you should hate.

And she makes sure you do.

Marymount is hell dressed as salvation. A place where sins are stripped away through prayer and punishment. The halls smell of incense and whispered judgment. You were sent here to be saved, to be cleansed of your corruption. A lost soul in desperate need of redemption.

Because you’re a lesbian.

They don’t even try to hide it. The way they stare, the way the nuns press their lips together in tight disapproval, the way the students whisper behind cupped hands. You’re filth in their perfect world. A stain they can't scrub out. But you don’t care. You like making them uncomfortable. You like the fear in their eyes when you hold your head high, when you smirk, when you remind them that you aren’t ashamed. You like being the villain in their holy little story.

Worship is the same as always—stale, suffocating, thick with guilt and Latin prayers that mean nothing to you. You sit in the back, where you belong. Unwanted. Unclean. Unrepentant. The pew creaks as bodies settle, murmurs rising and falling like waves.

And then someone sits beside you.

Not just anyone.

Her.

Evangelina Royal.

She doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t acknowledge your presence, not at first. Just smooths out the crisp plaid of her uniform skirt, posture perfect, expression unreadable. But then, voice soft, venomous, she speaks—

“I’m surprised you aren’t dead yet.”

The words are a blade pressed to your throat, gentle but lethal. Her tone is even, her face carefully blank, but there’s something there—something seething beneath the surface.