Clara could still feel the stares piercing her back even after the commotion in the hall had died down. Daniel's hand had been warm, steady, almost shielding her from the daggers in everyone's eyes. He had guided her out of the worst of it, but even now, she could hear the murmurs that refused to die.
"Why her?"
"Elena must be furious…"
"What if Adrian saw?"
Clara tilted her chin slightly higher, her lips curving into a small, defiant smile. Let them whisper. Let them doubt. Every word was fuel, every sneer a reminder of why she was here in this second chance at life.
She was no longer the naive, timid girl who let others crush her. Not anymore.
When Daniel excused himself to speak to another student council member, Clara leaned against the cool marble pillar, letting her eyes wander across the hall. Elena was easy to spot.
Her rival stood stiff and trembling, though she tried to mask it with an elegant pose. The laughter in her usual entourage had dimmed, replaced by nervous glances. Elena's grip on her glittering clutch was so tight her knuckles turned pale.
Clara's smirk deepened. Your crown is slipping, Elena.
Elena's chest rose and fell sharply as if every whisper in the room stabbed deeper into her pride.
"She didn't expect that at all…"
"Daniel publicly embarrassed her…"
"Her face looked awful!"
The venom of the whispers cut worse than any blade. Elena could feel the ground cracking beneath her carefully crafted image. She was supposed to be untouchable, flawless, adored. And yet—Daniel had chosen Clara.
Heat burned in Elena's chest, boiling into rage. No. This isn't over. I won't let her steal even a second of my light.
Her eyes snapped toward Clara, who stood calmly near the pillar, the faintest smile playing on her lips—as if mocking her.
That was the final straw.
Without another word, Elena spun on her heel. The sharp clack of her stilettos echoed across the marble floor, silencing a few nearby conversations. She pushed past the doors and stormed into the garden, her fury barely contained.
The night air was cooler outside, the fragrance of roses carried by a soft breeze. But Elena didn't notice. Her heart pounded, every thought poisoned with Clara's face.
She thinks she's won. She thinks Daniel's attention means anything. Pathetic. I'll remind her who I am. I'll make sure she regrets this. By the time I'm finished, Clara Whitmore won't even have a shadow left to stand in.
Her fists clenched around her clutch, the diamonds digging painfully into her skin. She welcomed the sting—it grounded her fury into focus.
She strode deeper into the garden, the moonlight spilling over the marble fountain at the center. And then—
She froze.
She wasn't alone.
A tall figure leaned against the fountain's edge, his posture relaxed yet commanding. The silver light caught on the sharp line of his jaw, the black suit that fit him like a second skin, the watch on his wrist that gleamed faintly as he adjusted his cuff.
Even without turning his head, his presence was unmistakable.
Adrian Blackwood.
The whispers of the hall had followed her out here, only to twist into silence in the weight of his aura.
Her breath hitched, her anger stumbling into something else—nerves, anticipation, fear.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The garden itself seemed to fall still, the sound of the fountain the only witness to this moment.
Elena swallowed hard, her mind racing. Had he seen? Had he heard the humiliation inside the hall?
The thought made her throat tighten. If Adrian—the Adrian Blackwood—had noticed her disgrace, then everything she'd built could crumble in an instant.
He finally moved, tilting his head slightly, his gaze cutting to her like a blade. Cold. Assessing. Dangerous.
And Elena realized with a shiver that for the first time, she wasn't the one in control.