Just as everyone had hoped, the sound of high heels clicked down the hallway—sharp, deliberate, each step pressing on their nerves.
A woman in a fitted navy suit and black-rimmed glasses stopped at the classroom door.
She didn't even step inside. Her gaze swept over the mess of overturned desks and scattered books. Silence spread like a chokehold.
Someone blurted out, "It was Autumn James!"
The disciplinary director turned her head. Her eyes settled on Autumn.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Her voice was calm, unreadable.
Autumn ducked her head, shoulders rounded, hands clasped in front of her like a timid child. Her voice was soft, almost trembling.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. It was my fault. I tripped and knocked over the desk. I'll clean everything up right away."
She bent down as if to start picking up the books.
The director's brow twitched, but she said nothing. She wasn't a fool—she had long noticed the class's bias against Autumn. And with that shrinking, harmless demeanor, Autumn hardly seemed the type to start a fight.
But siding with her openly would only make things worse for the girl.
So, after a moment's pause, she cleared her throat and ordered the back row boys, "You three. Clean it up. Quickly, before we waste any more class time."
The entire room gaped. A moment ago, Autumn had sent a boy flying with a single kick—now she was playing the part of the meek, apologetic victim.
They couldn't reconcile the two.
Anna Hawthorne frowned, hiding the flicker of unease in her eyes.
The morning passed quickly, and soon it was time for lunch.
St. Claire's Academy ran on a semi-closed schedule—students had to eat in the dining hall and nap in their classrooms.
Autumn had no friends to walk with. She gathered her things and slipped out alone toward the cafeteria.
From her seat, Anna caught sight of Autumn's retreating back through the hallway window.
Usually Autumn waited for them, tailing behind like a shadow even when mocked. Why not today?
Before Anna could dwell on it, a cheerful voice called:
"Anna, let's go."
She turned. Ethan James and Chaz Donovan stood at the door—tall, striking, the center of attention as always.
Unlike Ethan, who saved his warmth only for those close to him, Chaz carried a natural gentleness that seemed carved into his very bones.
Anna beamed at them, her greeting bright and sweet.
Ethan nodded back automatically, then frowned when his eyes skimmed their usual seats. No Autumn.
"Looking for your sister?" Anna asked innocently, her tone light as sugar. "She already went ahead."
Ethan's ears burned red. He scowled, embarrassed at being caught.
"No! Why would I be looking for her? Don't be ridiculous!"
He cleared his throat and forced a change of subject. "Come on, let's eat before the good dishes are gone."
All her fault, he fumed inwardly. If she hadn't run off without a word, I wouldn't have been put on the spot like that.
As they walked, Anna recounted the morning's incident in the classroom—exaggerating here, softening there—until the story painted Autumn as reckless and rude.
"Of course, I don't mean to criticize her," Anna finished with a little shrug, lips curving in a helpless smile. "I just worry she might make enemies…"
Ethan reached out and ruffled her hair, his voice indulgent. "Don't worry, you're fine. Autumn's the one at fault. I don't know what's gotten into her lately, acting so unreasonable."
Meanwhile, Autumn had already collected her lunch tray and settled quietly at a table.
The cafeteria stirred as Ethan, Anna, and Chaz entered—St. Claire's golden trio, impossible to ignore.
Autumn kept her head down, eating slowly, deliberately.
But soon, shadows fell across her table.
She glanced up. Of course—Ethan, Anna, and Chaz had sat right beside her.
Her gaze brushed over Chaz, and a faint ache flared in her chest. In her past life, he had treated her with more kindness than the others. But in the end, his rejection had cut the deepest.
Anna noticed the glance and smirked inwardly. With both Ethan and Chaz on her side now, surely Autumn must be seething.
Still, she pasted on a look of innocence.
"Autumn," she chirped, "why didn't you wait for us today? Are you scared Ethan will scold you? Don't worry, he's really very gentle."
Her words fanned the flame in Ethan's chest.
"Autumn James," he snapped, brows drawing together, "why didn't you wait? Do you think you can just ignore us now?"
Autumn's fork paused midair. She set it down, her tone flat.
"You mean wait like before? You three chatting happily in front, while I trailed behind like your servant?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. The memory stung because it was true.
"You—! You can't just—" He sputtered, grasping for ground, then finally burst out, "You probably just ran ahead to tell Dad on me, didn't you? To complain I wasn't taking care of you at lunch?"
His voice rose, indignant. "I knew it—you're so calculating!"
Autumn rolled her eyes and went back to her meal.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chaz quietly deboning fish for Anna, setting the fillets neatly on her plate. A pang of loss flashed through her—but it was gone in an instant.
Anna tried to smooth things over, her tone saccharine.
"Autumn, try the fish. It's really good here."
She tugged Ethan's sleeve as if urging him to join in.
Ethan ground his teeth. "Yeah, eat some fish. It's healthy."
Autumn stared at the fillet for a beat, then calmly pushed it to the side of her tray.
For the first time, Chaz's eyes flickered toward her. Just for two seconds—then he looked away.
Ethan slammed his hand on the table, temper snapping. "Autumn James, what the hell is your problem?!"
Anna tugged his sleeve again, her voice soft and coaxing. "Don't be mad, Ethan. She probably just doesn't like fish…"
Autumn lowered her eyes. Then, suddenly, a sharp laugh slipped from her lips.
"Don't like it?" Her gaze cut to Ethan, cool and unflinching. "Ethan James, I'm allergic to fish. You didn't forget that, did you?"