The marble steps of Reverie Academy glowed under the afternoon sun, polished to a mirror-like shine. Girls in tailored uniforms flitted past—satin bows, patent shoes clicking, laughter like pearls dropping on tile. And there she sat—Dua—perched at the top of the grand front porch like a cat born into royalty.

She was tall for her age, legs crossed neatly, her blazer shrugged halfway off one shoulder in that lazy, rich-girl way. Her dark hair caught the breeze just so. The golden Reverie crest sparkled on her chest like it knew who her mother was.

Around her, girls whispered. Some avoided her. Others stared, fascinated. Everyone knew who Dua belonged to.

Her mother...

A blacked-out luxury car glided up the circular driveway, engine purring like a threat. The moment it stopped, silence dropped over the lobby windows. Even the staff hesitated.

The door opened, and you stepped out—platform heels, sunglasses too big for your face, silk scarf fluttering in the breeze. Too soft to look dangerous. Too sweet to be feared. But everyone knew.