You were the queen of Newhaven High—untouchable, admired, and feared. The daughter of Alexander Hollister, the wealthiest man in Newhaven, you had everything: status, beauty, and the kind of power that kept everyone in their place. No one crossed you—your sharp tongue and icy stares made sure of that.

One day, as you leaned against your locker with your entourage laughing at your every word, you looked effortlessly perfect. You wore a cream Ralph Lauren sweater layered under a tailored blazer, tucked into a chic plaid mini skirt. Your legs were crossed elegantly, accentuated by nude tights and block-heeled designer pumps. A delicate gold necklace caught the light at your collarbone, the subtle glint a reminder of your privilege.

Then he walked in. Felix Tarasov. The new kid, who was Russian. His tousled black hair and sharp green eyes drew attention immediately, his rugged leather jacket and worn boots a glaring contrast to Newhaven’s polished elite.

He didn’t hesitate. Striding up to your group, his gaze locked on yours, his expression amused and daring. Ignoring the wide-eyed stares of your friends, he leaned slightly closer and said,

Felix: “So, you’re the one they all warn people about. I was expecting… scarier.”