Tuesday, 10:34 a.m.Location: Saint Gabriel's Prep – Senior Courtyard (a.k.a. TikTok Surveillance Zone)
There are few things more dangerous than an Alpha with a ring light and a mission.
One of those things?
An Alpha mom to be with Wi-Fi, a three-part series idea, and a background in crisis PR.
Which is why I should've known something was wrong the second Frankie texted me:
"Smile, you're going viral 💅📲🧨"
Ten minutes later, the entire school knew that Ricci Pizza was launching a rebrand.
And by "rebrand," I mean Frankie uploaded a TikTok of herself dancing in front of the oven in kitten heels while one of our cousins flipped dough in the background like he'd trained at Cirque du Soleil.
The caption?
"When the mafia is fake but the garlic knots are real 🍝 #FamilyBusiness #NotSuspiciousAtAll #TikTokMafiaAesthetic"
It hit 75k views in under an hour.
By lunch, it was being stitched, duetted, and remixed with gun sound effects and B-roll of our pizzeria's faded signage.
And then came the comments.
"This is giving Sopranos meets Eataly, I'm obsessed."
"Wait… this is the same Ricci family that owns that motel right?"
"Not me shipping Frankie and crime 😍"
"Why does this girl look like she launders money through cannoli sales"
To which Frankie replied:
"Not money. Just hearts 💖"
I was sitting under the sad cherry blossom tree in the courtyard, trying to survive on caffeine and sarcasm, when Izzy stomped over and flung herself onto the bench beside me.
"She did it again," she said flatly, dropping her phone into my lap.
Frankie's video was now part of a TikTok trend called #CriminallyHot.
Noah flopped down on my other side, chewing something unidentifiable and smiling like we weren't in the middle of a full-on PR disaster.
"Your sister's iconic," he said through a mouthful of whatever it was.
"She's going to get us arrested," I muttered, scrolling through the stitches. "Someone made an edit of our pizza place set to dramatic mob music and photoshopped a Tommy gun into Frankie's hands."
"Wait." Noah pulled out his phone. "Link me. That sounds cool."
Izzy ignored him. "People are talking. Like, real people. Adults. Reporters. Gossip sites."
"And Midas?" I asked, already knowing.
"Uploaded a reaction video," she said, grim. "He's doing the whole 'coincidence? I think not' angle."
"Perfect."
Izzy leaned in closer, voice low. "Also… he's here."
I turned so fast I nearly snapped my neck. "What?"
She nodded toward the front gate.
There, standing just outside school property with a suspiciously large camera and an even more suspicious smirk?
Midas freaking Montgomery.
Wearing a windbreaker, a beanie, and the face of a man who absolutely believed he was about to uncover a conspiracy.
Next to him?
Emma.
Holding his coffee, vlogging the whole thing, and—judging by her outfit—auditioning for the role of "Mafia Girlfriend #2" in her own content.
"Why is she with him?" I hissed.
"They're 'collabing,'" Noah said, making air quotes. "She posted a teaser this morning. Said she's 'finally ready to spill the tea on the Ricci girl who used to be her best friend.'"
I stared at the gate.
I stared at the camera.
I stared at Emma's smug little Omega face.
"Oh," I said. "She wants a war."
Izzy leaned forward, cracking her knuckles like this was an invitation. "We giving her one?"
I squinted at Emma through the fence. She was wearing pastel pink like it was armor, holding her phone high, angles perfect, smile weaponized. Midas stood beside her, already filming some obnoxious intro about "corruption hiding in plain sight."
"She's trying to bait us," I muttered.
"Yeah, well, it's working," Noah said, squinting at the camera. "Think if I sneeze on it, the footage will get corrupted?"
I ignored him and opened my group chat with Frankie—Frankie PR Mode 🔥💻💉. The name, by the way, is accurate.
ME: Pls tell me you know Emma's out here playing TMZ with her new boytoy
ME: And by boytoy I mean a grown man with a GoPro addiction
FRANKIE: Already saw
FRANKIE: Don't stress. I'm posting a maternity shoot in 10 min. That'll bury it.
ME: WAIT
ME: Maternity shoot??
FRANKIE: Chill. Not pregnant. Just manifesting
FRANKIE: Fertility content gets engagement
FRANKIE: Also my doc says I need to lower cortisol levels. TikTok counts as therapy, right?
ME: idk what counts anymore.
I sighed and locked my phone.
"Frankie's trying to get pregnant," I said, more to myself than to them.
Noah blinked. "Like… now?"
"Not now-now. She's doing IVF. Her Alpha hormones are all over the place. She's not bonded, so the odds suck."
Izzy frowned. "That's brutal."
"Yeah. And of course she's pretending she's totally fine about it while editing Reels at 2 a.m. and fixing the family's PR disasters for fun."
We all fell silent for a moment.
Emma laughed, loudly, on the other side of the fence. I swear she did it just to spike my blood pressure.
"She said I needed a makeover in her last vlog," I muttered.
"She wears sequins to the grocery store," Izzy snapped. "You're perfect."
"She called Noah her boyfriend."
"Okay that's a crime," Izzy muttered.
Noah's cheeks flushed. "I was just standing near her. I think she mistook that for emotional intimacy."
"Or saw an opportunity for clickbait," I said, sighing. "Look, Midas is gonna film. That's what he does. But if we make this about Emma, we're playing her game. And she doesn't play fair. Or well. Just loud."
"So what's the move?" Izzy asked.
I turned to face the camera. Emma spotted me instantly.
I smiled.
Then I raised my phone and started filming her right back.