The St. Jude's Annual Gala was a masterclass in performative excellence.
The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter garden, covered in white silk and lit by hundreds of flickering candles. It was Claire Howard's work, sharp, cold, and flawless.
I stood by a stone pillar, wearing a dark velvet dress that felt more like armor than evening wear.
I didn't care about the champagne or the orchestra. My eyes were fixed on the man in the suit across the room.
Alistair was back in his grey. He looked stiff, his shoulders held with a tension that spread across the ballroom. He was playing the part of the perfect faculty member, nodding politely to donors and laughing at jokes that weren't funny.
I waited for the right moment, slipping through the crowd when Claire was occupied with a catering problem.
"Mr. Howard," I said, stepping into his line of sight.
He didn't flinch, but I saw his fingers tighten around his glass. He didn't look at me, he looked at the wall behind me instead.
"Miss Vance. It's a lovely evening, isn't it?" His voice was professional, distant, and lacking the warmth from the library.
"The blue tie was better," I whispered, stepping closer. "What happened to it?"
He finally looked at me, but his eyes were like stone. "Elara, enough. Last night was a lapse in judgment on my part. I'm a teacher at this school, and you are a student. There is no 'us,' there is no 'shared interest.' Please, enjoy the evening and leave me to my duties."
"Alistair—"
"I asked you to leave me alone," he said, his voice rising just enough to be firm. He turned his back on me, moving toward a group of governors.
I felt a sharp, stinging humiliation. It wasn't just the rejection. It was the way he had dismissed me like a burden, a child who had overstayed her welcome. I turned to walk away, my face hot, when a hand clamped onto my upper arm.
It wasn't a teacher. It was a woman with sharp, blonde hair and eyes that looked like they could cut glass. Claire.
She didn't make a scene. She simply guided me toward the shadows of the arched hallway, her grip surprisingly strong. When we were out of sight of the crowd, she let go and turned to face me.
"I don't believe we've met," she said, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "I'm Claire Howard. Alistair's wife."
I stayed silent, my heart beating quickly.
"I've been watching you," she continued, stepping into my personal space. She was taller than me, smelling of expensive perfume and wine.
"The way you look at him. The way you lingered near him earlier. You're the Vance girl, aren't you? The 'troubled' one."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to find my voice.
"Don't play coy with me, you little brat," Claire snapped. "Alistair is a good man. He's a responsible man. He has a perfect life, and I have worked very hard to keep it that way. He might be 'pitying' you because he has a soft spot for lost causes, but don't mistake his kindness for interest. You're a distraction. A pathetic, schoolgirl crush."
She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowed. "If I see you near him again, if I even hear your name mentioned in our house, I will make sure your time at St. Jude's ends very, very painfully. I know people on the board. I can have you erased before you can finish your next history essay. Stay away from my husband."
She straightened her dress, gave me a look of pure disgust, and walked back toward the lights of the gala.
I stood in the dark hallway, shaking. Not with fear, but with a cold, clear clarity.
Up until now, Alistair had been a means to an end. A way to get to Diana Halloway. But Claire had changed the rules. She thought she owned him. She thought he was a "responsible man" who belonged to her.
Usually, I handled my enemies with silence. I was a girl of files and secrets. But Claire didn't deserve a slow burn.
She deserved to lose the one thing she thought made her powerful.
I looked back into the ballroom. Alistair was standing by the fountain, looking miserable and trapped in his grey suit.
If I couldn't reach him through literature and shared silence, I would reach him through the one thing Claire couldn't control. I didn't want to just ruin the Headmistress anymore. I wanted to ruin the life Claire had built.
I was going to take him. And I was going to make sure he enjoyed every second of his own fall.