The Next Day
School buzzed like a hive disturbed. The whispers were endless, venomous.
"Did you see her? She forced the prince to dance with her."too
"She's too full of herself."
"Greedy. So greedy."
Rosaline could feel the stares digging into her back with every step. One dance, and it was as though the entire school had turned her into a villain. She hadn't done anything wrong—but they were determined to twist her into one.
She entered class with Cassandra and Margaux by her side, trying to keep her head high. But the air thickened the moment she stepped in.
Brittany's eyes lit up with wicked glee. "Look who's here—our talk of the day," she said sweetly, her voice honeyed with poison.
Maya clenched her fists, ready to snap back, but Bianca's calm, sharp voice sliced through the tension.
"Let her be… for now," Bianca said smoothly, flipping her perfect hair. "She's with her two little sidekicks."
Break Time
Thirsty and distracted, Rosaline remembered she'd left her water bottle in class. "Be right back," she told her friends and made her way down the hall.
What she didn't see was Ashley—Bianca's loyal puppet—slipping behind her, turning the classroom key in the lock with a quiet click.
Inside,Rosaline grabbed her bottle and was about to leave when Bianca's voice stopped her cold.
Bianca stepped out from behind the curtain, arms crossed, a sick smile curving her lips. "Now I see it," she purred. "You really do look like her. No wonder the prince picked you. You're even prettier than I expected."
Rosaline's heart pounded. "What are you talking about?"
But the response came as a shove. She stumbled to the floor with a gasp.
Brittany moved fast, yanking her hair back and slapping her hard across the cheek. "You think you're special because he danced with you?" she spat. "You should've stayed in the shadows where you belong."
Tears stung Rosaline's eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Bianca crouched beside her, cruel satisfaction flickering in her gaze. "Because you need to learn your place. This is a warning. Next time, we won't be so gentle,You have to even learn not to talk to someone greater than you."
Another slap echoed through the room.
Bianca leaned in, voice low and dangerous. "What was it, hmm? Your golden hair? That irritatingly innocent face?"
But then, Rosaline pushed her back—sudden, fierce. Blood streaked her lip, and pain throbbed through her leg, but her eyes blazed.
"I thought maybe this was personal. But now I see the truth—it's jealousy. You've turned a dance into a war. If you wanted the prince, you should've asked. Don't blame me for something I never planned."
Bianca's smile faltered.
She turned to leave—only to find the doors locked.
Behind her, Bianca stood. Her expression had changed—cold, calculating, and dangerous.
"I thought it was just your face," Bianca whispered, stepping closer. "But now… you are her. You act like her. Proud. Arrogant. You should've bowed before me—pleaded for forgiveness. But instead, you're standing there, challenging the Grand Councilor's only daughter."
Rosaline moved close, defiant.
"I don't care who you think I am," Rosaline said, eyes flashing. "But let this be clear. My family never raised a coward. Even my grandmother, who's stricter than a winter storm, only slapped me once—and never again. You? You crossed a line. Heaven will remember this."
"She doesn't even respect you!" Brittany gasped.
Bianca's eyes narrowed. She lunged and tore Rosaline's dress with a violent tug. Snap. Two unfamiliar boys—hulking, silent—stepped out of the shadows.
"Hold her down," Bianca ordered.
"Let go of me!" Rosaline screamed, struggling.
The boys were merciless. One kicked her leg hard—she cried out, crumbling to the ground. The other pinned her arms, their fists pounding into her back and sides. Her vision blurred. Blood painted her lips.
Ashley froze in the corner, pale and trembling.
Bianca loomed over Rosaline. "Say 'please.' Lock your legs. Beg. Maybe we'll let you go."
"I'd rather die than do something so pathetic," Rosaline rasped.
Bianca hissed. "Still so arrogant."
Maya handed her a small, gleaming knife, eyes cold. "Then let her wear it forever."
Bianca knelt before her prey, brushing Rosaline's blood-matted hair back with deceptive gentleness.
"This is where your story ends," she whispered. "When we're done, even the prince won't recognize what's left of you."
Her fingers tightened on the blade.
Elsewhere…
Under the shade of the summer hut, Margaux tapped her fingers restlessly.
"She's taking too long," she muttered.
Cassie nodded. "She just went for her bottle…"
"But it's been over ten minutes."
They exchanged a look—and stood.
At Grandma Elira's Mansion
Far from the school, Grandma Elira was rummaging through her old wardrobe, searching for the gold coins she'd hidden years ago. Her hand brushed against a dusty, forgotten box. Inside—an unlabeled video tape.
Curiosity tugged at her.
She slid it into the player.
Static.
Then—laughter. A baby's squeal. A birthday cake. A mother and father smiling down at a golden-haired toddler.
Elira froze.
That laugh.
That hair.
That baby was Rosaline.
Her granddaughter.
But more than that, the memory awakened something she had buried long ago—something someone wanted to erase.
Her heart pounded as she leaned in, the truth unraveling before her very eyes.