Power was a language.
And today, Sonia Vale decided she would speak it fluently.
She sat up in bed, the black envelope clutched in her hand.
"The game ends when the imposter breaks."
The message was printed in careful, deliberate ink. No name. No seal. No blood. Just a warning dressed like a fact.
She stared at the words until they blurred.
Whoever sent it wasn't just watching, they understood the weight of image at Daxton. A crumble would be public. And permanent.
Sonia slid the note into her journal, right between a sketched map of the East Wing and a list of Silas's least trusted names. Eric's was still circled. Twice.
She wasn't sure if she should erase one yet.
At 8:15 a.m., Daxton's loudspeaker crackled to life:
"Silas Vale. Report to the Great Chamber. Immediately."
It wasn't Headmaster Quill's voice.
This one was smoother. Female. Cool like marble.
Sonia froze.
That voice only spoke when things were serious.
Really serious.
---
The Great Chamber was Daxton's most intimidating room. Round. Stone walls. Echoes. Every inch of it whispered judgment.
At the center stood the student council tribunal, seven upper elites seated like judges on a dais. Behind them hung the ancient Daxton crest: a crowned falcon holding a golden chain in its beak.
At the front, a single wooden chair.
Empty.
Waiting.
Sonia walked in, heart steady, mask flawless.
They didn't invite you to the chamber unless they were trying to rattle you.
Too bad she'd already rattled herself months ago.
"Silas," said Delphine Lin, student body president. Gold-rimmed glasses. Deadly posture. "Have a seat."
Sonia did. Legs apart. Shoulders relaxed. Exactly how Silas would sit if someone threatened to test his legacy.
"Your performance this term has been… unorthodox," Delphine continued.
"And entertaining," added one of the boys, smirking.
"This isn't entertainment," Delphine snapped, then turned back to Sonia. "We're concerned about recent behavioral inconsistencies. And your failure to attend last week's strategy council."
"I had the flu."
"And your failure to respond to three direct summons?"
"Must've been the fever."
Delphine blinked once. "You were seen fencing alone at midnight."
"I like silence."
"You turned down Mavina Cross's gala invitation."
"Not a fan of theater."
Another student, Hugo Devreaux, leaned forward.
"Be honest. Are you high, Silas?"
A few laughed.
Sonia didn't blink.
"Are you?" she shot back.
The laughter grew.
Even Delphine's lip twitched.
She had them. Not completely but enough.
---
Then Delphine dropped the real reason.
"We're enacting a live challenge. Strategic response round.
Ten scenarios. Thirty seconds each. In front of the board."
Sonia's pulse quickened.
Silas never mentioned this.
It was a test reserved for those they wanted to either promote or humiliate.
She gave a faint smile. "Let's dance."
---
Scenario One:
"You're in charge of a joint venture between Daxton and Blackbourne Industries. They want controlling shares. You want autonomy. What's your move?"
Sonia's voice was cold, precise.
"Create a third shell company. Make both parties invest equally. Retain decision power through voting rights structured in my favor."
Scenario Two:
"A scandal leaks. A teacher's in bed with a student. You find out first. What do you do?"
"I leak it anonymously before anyone else does. Control the narrative."
More stares.
More impressed looks.
She answered eight more. Fast. Sharp. Some even better than Silas would've.
By the end, Hugo was clapping.
"Maybe you're not dead after all."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Sonia said, standing.
Delphine didn't smile.
"We'll be watching."
"I'd be disappointed if you weren't."
By noon, the whispers were different.
Not he's changed.
Now it was he's dangerous.
---
Sonia sat under the courtyard tree later, sipping black coffee from the kiosk cup, when Eric slid onto the bench beside her.
He didn't say anything right away.
Just handed her something.
A photo.
It was old. A picture of Silas, smiling, arms draped around a younger kid...Eric.
Sonia blinked. "Where'd you get this?"
"From the same file I showed you yesterday," he said. "The school archives."
"You were friends?"
"Once," Eric said. "Then we weren't."
"Why?"
Eric leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Because I figured out something about him I couldn't unsee."
"Like what?"
He met her eyes.
"That he was smarter than all of us. And that terrified me."
Sonia's throat tightened.
"He trusted you," she said.
Eric gave a sad smile. "Maybe too much."
They sat there in silence, until he asked:
"You never talk about what happened to him. The crash. That night. Why?"
She stared into her cup.
"Because if I do, I'll start asking questions I'm not ready to answer."
---
That night, Sonia opened Silas's notebook again.
A line was circled near the back.
"If you're reading this, it means I failed, which means you can't."
Right beneath it was a name she hadn't seen before.
Rhys Vale.
Not a Daxton student.
Not in their family tree.
But the word beside it chilled her blood:
"Heir."