Lilly's POV
I stood in the security line with my single duffel bag slung over my shoulder, watching people heft designer luggage onto conveyor belts, and felt the first real flutter of panic in my chest.
This is either the best decision I've ever made or I'm about to be trafficked. 50/50 odds.
The acceptance letter was folded in my back pocket, worn soft from the number of times I'd unfolded it to make sure it was real. Ravencrest Academy. Full scholarship. Room and board included. A chance at the future, far away from that man with a raging dick and my mother who didn't give two shits about me.
He'll, I'd never left home except for the usual bus ride the bus ride to community college and back. And now I was about to fly across the country to attend some elite boarding school in Northern California that I'd never even heard of before that letter arrived.
The security guard waved me forward, and I fumbled with my shoes, my belt, watching to make sure nobody walked off with my bag. Everything I owned was in that duffel—clothes, a few books, my laptop that was held together with electrical tape and prayers. If I lost it, I'd have nothing.
"First time flying?" the guard asked, not unkindly, as I struggled to reassemble myself on the other side of the scanner.
"That obvious?"
"You've got the look. You'll be fine. Just find your gate and follow the crowd."
I found the gate with twenty minutes to spare and sat in the hard plastic chair, watching planes taxi and take off through the enormous windows.
The knot in my stomach was growing tighter. What was I doing? I didn't belong at a place like Ravencrest.
I'd looked it up online—what little I could find—and everything screamed exclusive, expensive, exclusive. The kind of place where people named their children things like "Winthrop" and "Pemberton" and probably discussed their stock portfolios over brunch.
No going back now, I thought, equal parts terrified and exhilarated. This is it. New life starts now.
I tried to sleep during the flight but couldn't. My mind kept spinning through worst-case scenarios—what if the acceptance letter was a mistake? What if I got there and they realized they'd meant to offer the scholarship to someone else? What if I was so out of place that they sent me home before the first day was over?
Stop it, I told myself firmly. You earned this. Whatever happens, you earned the right to be there.
The plane touched down in Northern California just after noon, and I followed the crowd through the terminal to baggage claim, then out into the California sunshine.
A man in a black suit stood near the exit, holding a sign with my name: LILLY WINTERS.
Here goes nothing.
"I'm Lilly," I said, approaching him cautiously.
He nodded once, his expression professionally blank, and reached for my duffel bag. "This is all your luggage?"
"Yep. I'm a light packer."
If he found that odd, he didn't show it. He simply turned and led me to a sleek black town car idling at the curb. A town car for me. I'd taken precisely one Uber in my entire life, and I'd felt fancy. This was on another level entirely.
The driver climbed in without a word and pulled smoothly into traffic.
"So," I tried, "have you worked at Ravencrest long?"
"Ten years."
"That's cool. What's it like? The school, I mean?"
"It's a school."
"Right, that was so helpful. Thanks."
He didn't respond, and I gave up on conversation, turning instead to watch the landscape roll past outside my window. We left the airport behind, then the suburbs, then the city itself.
"Where is everyone?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
"Working," the driver said shortly. "Town's mostly service industry for the academy and the nearby estates. Everyone's at their jobs this time of day."
That made sense, I supposed, but it still felt wrong somehow. Like a movie set waiting for the actors to arrive.
The road narrowed after that, becoming little more than two lanes cutting through dense forest. Then the driver turned onto a private road, and I saw gates ahead—massive iron things that looked like they'd been forged in the Middle Ages, all Gothic points and scrollwork. They swung open as we approached, apparently operated by some unseen mechanism.
And then I saw it.
Ravencrest Academy rose from the hillside like something out of a Gothic novel. It wasn't just a school—it was a mansion, a castle, an estate that sprawled across acres of immaculate grounds. Stone towers reached toward the sky, their slate roofs dark against the clouds. Enormous windows glinted in the afternoon sun. Gardens stretched out in every direction, perfectly maintained and frighteningly expensive-looking.
"Holy hell," I breathed.
The driver's lips might have twitched. Might have. "Welcome to Ravencrest Academy."
We drove through grounds that seemed to go on forever. Students were visible here and there, walking in small groups or sitting on benches, and even from a distance I could tell they looked different from anyone I'd ever known. Polished. Perfect. Expensive.
Finally, the car pulled up to the main entrance—a set of massive wooden doors that looked like they could withstand a siege. The driver came around to open my door, and I climbed out on shaky legs, my duffel bag suddenly feeling like an anchor weighing me down.
"Good luck, Miss winters," the driver said, and there was something in his tone that made me wonder if he knew something I didn't.
"Thanks," I managed. "I think I'll need it."
He drove away, leaving me standing alone at the base of those imposing doors. All around me, other students were arriving—but they arrived in Mercedes and BMWs and cars I didn't even have names for. They had Louis Vuitton luggage and parents fussing over them and that casual confidence that came from a lifetime of belonging in places like this.
I'd never felt poorer in my life.
I was contemplating whether I should just walk through the doors or wait for someone to tell me what to do when three girls materialized in front of me. And I mean materialized—one second the path was empty, the next they were there, like they'd stepped out of thin air.
They were dressed like they'd raided a boutique specifically labeled "Posh Private School"—designer blazers over crisp white shirts, skirts that probably cost more than my monthly rent, shoes that gleamed like mirrors. Everything about them screamed money and status and the kind of casual cruelty that came from never having to face consequences.
The one in the center—a girl with perfectly highlighted hair and a smile sharp enough to cut glass—stepped forward first. "Welcome to Ravencrest! I'm Beauty—yes, that's my real name, and yes, I know. These are my associates, Ethereal and Allure. We're the freshman coordinators, here to help you get oriented."
Her tone was saccharine sweet, but her eyes were scanning me from head to toe, cataloging every piece of thrift store clothing, every worn seam, every clear sign that I didn't belong. I saw the exact moment her assessment was complete, saw the way her smile sharpened into something predatory.
"Oh my," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Are you sure you're in the right place? The service entrance is around back. We're not hiring cleaners today, but if you leave your information—"
Behind her, Ethereal and Allure started cackling like the witches they clearly were, their laughter high and cruel.
Something hot flashed through my chest. I'd dealt with mean girls before—hell, I'd grown up surrounded by people who looked down on me for being poor, for living in the bad part of town, for wearing secondhand clothes. I'd learned early that you either stood up for yourself or got trampled.
"I'm a student," I said, my voice flat and cold. "Scholarship student. Full ride and I don't appreciate being mistaken for the help, though I'm sure they do important work here and don't deserve to be talked about like that." I pulled out my acceptance letter and waved it in her face. "Now, are you going to do your job as freshman coordinator and take me to the chancellor's office, or do I need to report that you're harassing new students before they've even made it through the front door?"
The laughter cut off like someone had flipped a switch. Beauty's face went through several interesting color changes—shock, rage, embarrassment, then settling on a mask of brittle politeness.
"Of course," she said through gritted teeth. "Right this way."
She spun on her designer heel and stalked toward the entrance, her minions trailing behind like ducklings. I followed, my heart pounding but my head held high. First day and I'd already made enemies. That had to be some kind of record.
The interior of Ravencrest was even more intimidating than the exterior. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, held up by carved stone pillars. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across marble floors. Oil paintings of stern-looking people in old-fashioned clothing lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow us as we walked.
Beauty led me through a maze of corridors, never speaking, her posture radiating offense. Finally, she stopped outside a door marked "Chancellor Perkins" and knocked once, sharply.
"Enter," called a warm voice from inside.
Beauty opened the door and practically shoved me through, then departed without another word.
"Miss Winters," Chancellor Perkins stood, coming around the desk with outstretched hands. "I'm so delighted you decided to accept our offer. Please, sit, sit!"
The warmth in her greeting was so unexpected after Beauty's coldness that I almost didn't know how to respond. I took the offered seat, sinking into a leather chair that was probably worth more than my car.
"I have to say," the chancellor continued, settling back behind her desk, "when your application came across my desk, I knew immediately that you were exactly the kind of student Ravencrest needs. Your academic record is exceptional, especially considering the circumstances you overcame to achieve it."
"Thank you," I said, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I appreciate the opportunity."
I didn't even apply for a scholarship but I wasn't about to tell her that. Maybe there was someone else out there with the exact same name,who knows?
"Now, I know this will all be quite different from what you're used to," she said kindly. "Ravencrest has a very particular culture, and it can take some adjustment. But I have complete faith that you'll thrive here." She pulled out a folder and began walking me through the basics—class schedules, dress code, rules about technology.
"You'll notice we don't allow cell phones on campus," she explained. "We've found they're too much of a distraction. You'll be issued a laptop for your studies, and there are designated areas where you can make calls home on weekends."
I pulled out my beat-up phone—it was barely functional anyway—and handed it over. It felt like giving up my last connection to my old life, but I supposed that was the point.
There was a knock at the door, and another girl entered. This one was dressed similarly to Beauty and her crew, but her expression was open and friendly rather than calculating.
"Ah, Zeal!" Chancellor Perkins said. "Perfect timing. Zeal, this is Lilly Winters, our newest student. Zeal will show you around campus, help you get oriented. She's one of our best students—you couldn't be in better hands."
Zeal smiled genuinely. "Hi, Lilly, are you ready for the grand tour?"
I stood, shouldering my duffel bag once more. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Excellent," the chancellor said. "Welcome to Ravencrest Academy, Miss Winters. I think you're going to do wonderful things here."