Elara’s POV

I saw them again, the trio from Prescott Academy. Their black blazers, their arrogant laughter, their polished shoes tapping against the marble floor. Andre. Drake. Justin. No one knew i joined the competition because of them, i want them to recognize me and see me win against them. That is why the only thing that could help me is being Damien’s daughter, and i would do anything to be his daughter just to get back at them.

My breath caught. My hands turned cold. They didn’t recognize me. Not yet. But the sound of their voices dragged me back into a darkness I had spent years trying to escape.

Pearl leaned close, whispering, “They’re just boys. Don’t look so scared.”

But she didn’t know. She couldn’t know. They weren’t just boys. They were my nightmares with names.

Andre’s laugh cut through the air like a knife. He slapped Justin’s shoulder, and the sound ricocheted down the hall. For a second, his eyes brushed past me. I froze. Did he see me? Did he remember? No. He kept walking, smirking at some girl who nearly dropped her books when he passed.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

I couldn’t let them see me weak. Not here. Not again.

That evening, I walked into the practice hall. Prescott had taken the front seats, smirking like they owned the place. My chest tightened when Andre’s gaze slid to me, his grin cruel.

“Your turn, Winterfell,” he called out. His voice carried mockery.

Everyone turned to look at me. The air was thick with expectation, with doubt. I walked to the piano. My hands shook, but I forced them to the keys.

Their piece.

The one they had just finished.

I copied it note for note, every chord sharp, every run flawless. The sound filled the hall, heavy and bold. By the time I struck the last note, silence fell.

Shock rippled through the room. Prescott’s smug faces twisted. They hadn’t expected me to challenge them.

I stood slowly, my eyes locking with Andre’s. For the first time, I didn’t flinch.

“Cute,” he said finally, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Enjoy your little stunt. We’ll see how long you last.”

Whispers filled the air. Phones lit up. Gossip Girl’s headline flashed minutes later:

“Elara Winters plagiarizes Prescott. Desperate much?”

Laughter erupted. Students stared, some pitying, some sneering. My stomach knotted. Even when I fought back, the world found a way to drag me lower.

Later, when the halls were quiet, I tried to breathe again. The building felt too big, too full of shadows. I just wanted to reach my dorm, to hide under the covers and forget today.

That’s when I heard it.

“Still a little mouse, aren’t you?”

My blood ran cold.

Andre stepped out from the shadows, Drake and Justin flanking him. The same smirks, the same cruel light in their eyes.

I backed away, but the hall stretched too long, too empty. My back hit the wall.

Andre leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Thought we forgot? You can’t erase who you really are, Elara.”

Drake chuckled low. “Still shaking. Just like before.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. My hands trembled. My throat locked. The past was swallowing me whole again.

“Leave me alone,” I whispered, but my voice cracked.

Justin’s grin widened. “You really think Winterfell can protect you? You’re nothing but a joke. Just wait until everyone remembers what you are.”

My knees buckled. I couldn’t breathe.

Then—

A crash.

The sound of bodies slamming into lockers. A blur of motion ripped through the hall.

Andre cursed, stumbling back. Drake hit the ground with a groan. Justin clutched his arm, blood trickling.

I pressed myself against the wall, wide-eyed.

A figure stood between me and them. Tall, lean, face hidden under a dark hood. His movements were swift, brutal. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back. Andre lunged, but the stranger shoved him so hard he crashed into the opposite wall.

“You don’t belong here,” the figure’s voice was low, dangerous.

For the first time, I saw fear flicker in Andre’s eyes. He muttered something, grabbed his friends, and they stumbled away, retreating into the dark.

The hall fell silent.

My breath came in ragged gasps. My whole body shook. I lifted my eyes.

The figure turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch his face. His hood slipped.

Green eyes.

Sharp, burning, impossible to mistake.

“Mikhail…” I whispered.

But before I could move, before I could speak again, he was gone.

Vanished into the shadows, like he had never been there at all.

I sank to the floor, my hands clutching my chest. The fear still clung to me, but something else burned beneath it now.

Why was he there? Why had he saved me? And why, when I looked into those green eyes, did my heart pound harder than it ever had before?

The whispers of Prescott still echoed in my mind, cruel and haunting.

But another whisper cut through them now, low and sharp, wrapping around me like fire.

Mikhail.

The boy who hated me.

The boy who might also be the only one keeping me alive.

That night, as I lay in bed, my phone buzzed. Another Gossip Girl post.

“Elara Winters caught alone in the dark with a masked stranger. Trouble follows her everywhere.”

I dropped the phone, my heart slamming against my ribs.

They didn’t know it was him. Not yet. But what if they found out?

And why did a part of me, buried deep and dangerous, almost wish they did?

The truth clawed at me, louder than the whispers, louder than the lies.

Mikhail had secrets. And now, I was tangled in them.

The cliff I stood on was crumbling.

And I had no choice but to fall.